Hearts Are Made Of Broken Glass 7/13 (Crowley, Castiel, Dean, rated PG-13)
Title: Hearts Are Made Of Broken Glass
Chapter: 7/13
Author: pink_bagels
Genre: humour, drama
Pairing(s): Castiel/Crowley (eventually...kind of...), Dean/Crowley (eventually...kind of? o.O)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1072
Disclaimer: You kidding? I own nothing.
Warnings: Some spoilers for the seventh season and some deviation from canon at the end of the sixth.
Summary: Hell is no place for a brooding, guilty angel. So, Crowley sends Castiel on a crossroads mission. Big mistake.
HEARTS ARE MADE OF BROKEN GLASS-chapter seven
It was the loud screeching of seagulls that awoke him, and he blinked into the bright onslaught of sunlight, warm sand grating against the back of his head. Salted air filled his lungs as he sat up, a dried patch of seaweed scratching against his palm. Confused, he brushed the white sands off of his suit, the pleasant stretch of blue that caressed the horizon a peaceful example of infinity. He stepped back, doubtful of the peace that resided here, and he nearly fell back over the large umbrella that had been strategically placed beside him, its shade having drifted towards the cliff-face to the left of where he was standing. On a flat rock, just a few feet away from the flowered umbrella, was a bottle of unopened Chablis and two delicate champagne glasses. Crowley wasn't entirely sure if it was safe to drink such victuals when there always was the risk of poisoning in some manner, but the calm setting and the beauty of the place created an unexpected sense of well being within him, and he happily opened the Chablis and poured himself a drink. Then, seeing the empty second glass, he shrugged to himself and poured another, figuring if there was an unseen companion here, it was only polite to offer. He could always double hand it if it came to that.
"You know, I never really thought of you as the beach lounging sort, but I can tell, you're enjoying this."
Crowley took a sip of the Chablis. It was cold and velvet on his tongue and with the warm sands and ocean coolled breeze, he sat beneath the large flowered umbrella and clinked the rim of his glass against the other, which was now held by a slender, tanned hand with perfectly manicured nails. "I take it you're doing well," he said.
The bottle of Chablis was moved giving his companion room on the flat rock, the sun shining behind her, giving her long, brown locks a golden halo. Her toes dug into the soft sand. "Better than expected."
"I should think so."
Bella smiled at this, and offered to top off his glass, which he'd already polished off. "Funny, isn't it, how some things turn out. I trust you got into a bit of trouble thanks to me."
"Not as much as one would expect," Crowley said over the rim of his glass. It really was good Chablis. "In the end, while one can bend the rules a little, it's not acceptable to outright break the law. It was a slap on the wrist, really. A few thousand years hard labour, the usual, though I was able to get about five hundred years shaved off thanks to the obscurity of that innocence clause."
"Deals made with innocents are considered null and void," Bella sagely nodded. "Your superiors must have been bloody angry when they saw me going upstairs instead of down."
"They aren't the most forgiving of employers, no."
Bella was in profile, the sun hitting her skin as though it were kissing her. "Did you suffer much?"
"No more than the usual."
"I wish you hadn't suffered at all."
"Some of us were born for it."
"It makes me sad."
"How can you be? Look at this place." The sun was beginning to set, a speeded up rendition of day into night that was a smooth as the sands, and the air, and company he currently enjoyed. "It's remarkable, how peaceful this all is. I wouldn't have thought you'd want this kind of isolated version of Heaven. Seems to me you'd like to be the life of the party once in a while."
"No," Bella said, her voice confident, happy. "This is exactly where I always pictured my heaven." She glanced down at Crowley who lay sprawled in his good suit beneath the umbrella, sand creeping into the wrinkles of his black trousers. "I used to come here as a child. To get away from my father. It was my sanctuary. We'd vacation here every summer and I'd escape to this exact beach for hours. He never found me here." She placed her glass down, her profile one of bliss. "You arranged that deal with me on purpose. You knew you couldn't make a deal like that. You knew it would fall through."
"Don't be daft, I'm rotten to the core. Sent the hell hounds, didn't I?"
"I was long dead already." She was pensive as she watched the sun set on the horizon, the sky darkening into streaks of blue and purple and gold and slowly into a deep navy hue, the bright eye of the moon cutting across the white capped black water that lapped against her wiggling toes. "Seems to me you've been looking for a secret beach yourself."
"Can't say it doesn't appeal to me."
"How are the Winchesters?"
He paused at this, not entirely sure how to answer her. She was specifically asking about Dean, of course, but he wasn't so foolish as to give her false hope. Dean would never find this beach, he would never have the opportunity to traipse along the sandy shores and see the happiness Bella so desperately deserved. He didn't know her story, and if he did he didn't care. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, this irked Crowley. No hell hound he'd ever sent to collect could have ripped a heart out more.
"Still alive," he said.
"Oh," Bella said, and she seemed disappointed. Then, a familiar grin, one full of mischief and conniving erupted over her features. "Be sure to tell them hello when you see them again."
"Can't say when that will be," Crowley said, pouring himself yet another glass of that wondrous Chablis.
"You'll be seeing Dean Winchester very soon," Bella assured him. Behind her the cliff face was beginning to crumble, the black velvet shoreline bubbling as the sea heated up to boiling. Crowley watched it, impassive, quite sure this wasn't a part of Bella's heavenly construction. She bent close to him, her breath smelling of strong bubblegum, a childish scent. "He's walking around your heart right now, the cheeky monkey. I'm sure you didn't invite him."
Chapter: 7/13
Author: pink_bagels
Genre: humour, drama
Pairing(s): Castiel/Crowley (eventually...kind of...), Dean/Crowley (eventually...kind of? o.O)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1072
Disclaimer: You kidding? I own nothing.
Warnings: Some spoilers for the seventh season and some deviation from canon at the end of the sixth.
Summary: Hell is no place for a brooding, guilty angel. So, Crowley sends Castiel on a crossroads mission. Big mistake.
HEARTS ARE MADE OF BROKEN GLASS-chapter seven
It was the loud screeching of seagulls that awoke him, and he blinked into the bright onslaught of sunlight, warm sand grating against the back of his head. Salted air filled his lungs as he sat up, a dried patch of seaweed scratching against his palm. Confused, he brushed the white sands off of his suit, the pleasant stretch of blue that caressed the horizon a peaceful example of infinity. He stepped back, doubtful of the peace that resided here, and he nearly fell back over the large umbrella that had been strategically placed beside him, its shade having drifted towards the cliff-face to the left of where he was standing. On a flat rock, just a few feet away from the flowered umbrella, was a bottle of unopened Chablis and two delicate champagne glasses. Crowley wasn't entirely sure if it was safe to drink such victuals when there always was the risk of poisoning in some manner, but the calm setting and the beauty of the place created an unexpected sense of well being within him, and he happily opened the Chablis and poured himself a drink. Then, seeing the empty second glass, he shrugged to himself and poured another, figuring if there was an unseen companion here, it was only polite to offer. He could always double hand it if it came to that.
"You know, I never really thought of you as the beach lounging sort, but I can tell, you're enjoying this."
Crowley took a sip of the Chablis. It was cold and velvet on his tongue and with the warm sands and ocean coolled breeze, he sat beneath the large flowered umbrella and clinked the rim of his glass against the other, which was now held by a slender, tanned hand with perfectly manicured nails. "I take it you're doing well," he said.
The bottle of Chablis was moved giving his companion room on the flat rock, the sun shining behind her, giving her long, brown locks a golden halo. Her toes dug into the soft sand. "Better than expected."
"I should think so."
Bella smiled at this, and offered to top off his glass, which he'd already polished off. "Funny, isn't it, how some things turn out. I trust you got into a bit of trouble thanks to me."
"Not as much as one would expect," Crowley said over the rim of his glass. It really was good Chablis. "In the end, while one can bend the rules a little, it's not acceptable to outright break the law. It was a slap on the wrist, really. A few thousand years hard labour, the usual, though I was able to get about five hundred years shaved off thanks to the obscurity of that innocence clause."
"Deals made with innocents are considered null and void," Bella sagely nodded. "Your superiors must have been bloody angry when they saw me going upstairs instead of down."
"They aren't the most forgiving of employers, no."
Bella was in profile, the sun hitting her skin as though it were kissing her. "Did you suffer much?"
"No more than the usual."
"I wish you hadn't suffered at all."
"Some of us were born for it."
"It makes me sad."
"How can you be? Look at this place." The sun was beginning to set, a speeded up rendition of day into night that was a smooth as the sands, and the air, and company he currently enjoyed. "It's remarkable, how peaceful this all is. I wouldn't have thought you'd want this kind of isolated version of Heaven. Seems to me you'd like to be the life of the party once in a while."
"No," Bella said, her voice confident, happy. "This is exactly where I always pictured my heaven." She glanced down at Crowley who lay sprawled in his good suit beneath the umbrella, sand creeping into the wrinkles of his black trousers. "I used to come here as a child. To get away from my father. It was my sanctuary. We'd vacation here every summer and I'd escape to this exact beach for hours. He never found me here." She placed her glass down, her profile one of bliss. "You arranged that deal with me on purpose. You knew you couldn't make a deal like that. You knew it would fall through."
"Don't be daft, I'm rotten to the core. Sent the hell hounds, didn't I?"
"I was long dead already." She was pensive as she watched the sun set on the horizon, the sky darkening into streaks of blue and purple and gold and slowly into a deep navy hue, the bright eye of the moon cutting across the white capped black water that lapped against her wiggling toes. "Seems to me you've been looking for a secret beach yourself."
"Can't say it doesn't appeal to me."
"How are the Winchesters?"
He paused at this, not entirely sure how to answer her. She was specifically asking about Dean, of course, but he wasn't so foolish as to give her false hope. Dean would never find this beach, he would never have the opportunity to traipse along the sandy shores and see the happiness Bella so desperately deserved. He didn't know her story, and if he did he didn't care. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, this irked Crowley. No hell hound he'd ever sent to collect could have ripped a heart out more.
"Still alive," he said.
"Oh," Bella said, and she seemed disappointed. Then, a familiar grin, one full of mischief and conniving erupted over her features. "Be sure to tell them hello when you see them again."
"Can't say when that will be," Crowley said, pouring himself yet another glass of that wondrous Chablis.
"You'll be seeing Dean Winchester very soon," Bella assured him. Behind her the cliff face was beginning to crumble, the black velvet shoreline bubbling as the sea heated up to boiling. Crowley watched it, impassive, quite sure this wasn't a part of Bella's heavenly construction. She bent close to him, her breath smelling of strong bubblegum, a childish scent. "He's walking around your heart right now, the cheeky monkey. I'm sure you didn't invite him."