Conversations
Title: Conversations
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel/Crowley, Bobby
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bobby gets a visit from the former King of the Crossroad Demons and Crowley reveals more of himself then he ever meant to.
Notes: I've been totally ruined. First I write wing!kink, of all things, and now I seem to have a mini-series going. Here's the second story. I am writing these as I go so I have no idea how many there will be or how long it is.
Bobby Singer paused in mid-pour, frowning at the feeling creeping up his spine. With a single quick motion, he set the bottle on the counter and spun, the hidden shotgun in hand and aimed at the figure standing in the middle of his kitchen.
"Well, now." Amusement dripped from the familiar voice. "Is that any way to great an old friend?"
"We ain't friends." Bobby growled automatically. This brought a laugh from the demon but no comment, which surprised the hunter. But that wasn't the only thing to surprised him. In fact, he couldn't tell what surprised him more. Maybe it was the fact that the demon once known for his impeccable tailored suits was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Or maybe it was the raven-black wings he had half-folded around himself in an almost protective gesture. No, he finally decided. It was the fact that Crowley was holding a large-footed puppy in his arms, a puppy that squirmed and whined to be let down.
"This yours?" Crowley asked, setting the puppy down. All huge head and paws, the puppy looked to be a Rottweiler. It promptly clumped over to sniff at Bobby's boots.
"Hell, no! I don't have a dog! Where'd you get it?"
"Found her sniffing around a corner of your fence." Crowley opened a cabinet then another, finally dragging out a large bowl. Before Bobby could protest the bowl was filled with water and on the floor.
"Why'd you bring it here?"
Crowley shrugged. "It …she rather … was outside your fence. Thought maybe she belonged here." He straightened from petting the puppy, brushing his hands off as he eyed the man.
Bobby scowled back, finally nodding at the wings. "Thought those would go away."
Crowley blinked, the wings folding around him. He absently caressed one, seemingly unaware he was even doing it. "So did I," he said finally. "But they didn't. Not that I mind, really."
"Suppose not," Bobby muttered. "Must be some kudos. Being the only demon with wings."
Crowley arched an eyebrow. "Hardly," he said dryly. "The angels are having fits at the mere thought. Apparently they are of the opinion that wings are an angel-only thing. Only the fact that …" He stopped abruptly then shrugged. "Only Gabriel's protection has kept them from doing something about it."
Bobby studied the demon, narrow-eyed. "Why would Gabriel be protecting you?"
Crowley blinked in obvious surprise. "Castiel didn't tell …" He caught himself with a rueful laugh. "I suppose not. It would seem he's keeping a number of things from you." He ran a finger absently around the collar of his shirt before abruptly pulling it down far enough for Bobby to see the handprint seared into his skin, just where his heart would be. "He's my lover. My … mate, if you will," he said simply, releasing the collar and smoothing it back into place. "By mutual agreement," he added with some defiance, as if that had been in doubt by others.
Bobby gawked at him then laughed abruptly, finally lowering the shotgun. "Bet that gave the boys upstairs fits."
"In a major way." Crowley chuckled then sobered, a hand gripping the edge of one wing and Bobby suspected that not even the archangel's protection had kept him from at least some harm. "Any demon still left on Earth is out to kill me anyway, wings or no, for betraying Lucifer. Angels stay away because of …" He touched his chest and the claiming mark there. "I stay away from the crossroads these days and away from hunters. None have found my home yet. As long as they don't I'm fairly safe." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more then Bobby.
Bobby frowned. "So why are you here?" he asked gruffly, his fingers tightening on the shotgun.
"To clear up a misconception you're still laboring under and shouldn't be, if certain angels did what they're supposed to." Crowley's voice was surprisingly kind as he spoke. "Your soul is your own and has been since before you went to confront Lucifer."
Bobby blinked, unsure if he'd heard right. "Excuse me?"
"Castiel was supposed to tell you but for some reason he never did. I gave you back your soul before you and angel-boy went off to confront Lucifer. Just in case." Crowley leaned against the counter, sweeping his wings around himself.
"Do you ever put those away?" Bobby blurted out, his mind still trying to process what the demon was telling him.
"Not if I can help it. Drives Gabriel crazy but then he's had his all his existence, hasn't he?"
"True enough. Why didn't you tell me yourself?"
Crowley rolled his eyes. "With the Hardy Boys just straining to knife me the second they had a chance? No, thank you. Castiel knew you had your soul as soon as he brought you back from the dead; angels can always tell. Why he didn't tell you I don't know. At a guess I'd say he preferred to keep me on your collective shit lists more then he wanted to ease your mind."
Bobby scowled at that. "How do I know you're not lying?"
Crowley smirked. "I don't lie. Not when the truth is so much more fun. And whether you believe it or not, I keep my word. But if you want to check just ask him, straight out, next time you see him. Or ask Gabriel next time he swings by.”
Bobby eyed him for a moment longer then grunted, turning to put the shotgun away. He opened a couple cupboards, finally finding a can of dog food left from the days when he had a dog. After opening it he hesitated then opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, tossing it to the surprised demon. “Might as well sit down,” he muttered as he found an old dog dish and dumped the can’s contents into it.
When he finally turned back to the demon it was to see him sitting at the kitchen table, absently making wet rings on the table with the cold bottle as he watched the puppy gobble down the food. His wings were gone now, folded back into wherever it was they kept their wings.
“Knew she belonged here.”
“Like hell. She ain’t staying.” Bobby pulled out a beer of his own and sat down, glaring at the demon. “So … no crossroads?”
“No crossroads.” Crowley sighed. “No where to send the souls. Hell is closed off to me.”
Bobby grunted. “Miss it?” He reached hastily for a towel as the demon sputtered beer over the table.
“You are joking!” Crowley coughed, wiping at his face. He glared at the spilled beer and cleared it with a gesture. He scowled at the empty bottle and snapped another into existence. “No, I do not miss it,” he growled. “I spent centuries … millennia … clawing my way out of there and nothing could ever make me go back!” He hesitated, his face, for a moment, open and somewhat lost. “But it has been the only thing I’ve known for … longer then I care to remember. It’s hard, sometimes, to …” His voice trailed off and he looked at Bobby in some surprise, as if suddenly realizing who he was talking to.
“Been hanging around Gabriel too long,” Bobby said and Crowley gave him a grateful look for breaking the mood.
“Yes, I suppose I have been.” His hand absently touched his shirt where the claiming mark was. “So …” He waved a hand. “What do you do when you’re not hunting?” There was very real curiosity in the demon’s voice.
Under different circumstances, Bobby would have been suspicious of Crowley’s question … hell, he was suspicious anyway but sitting here with an over-sized puppy snuffling in the corners and the crossroads demon looking relaxed in jeans and t-shirt and a neat row of beer waiting to be drunk ... he leaned back in the chair and started talking.
Sometime in the night they moved to the living room. Crowley vanished long enough to get a double-order of Chinese and was properly awed by Bobby’s expertise with chopsticks. They talked about all kinds of things, Crowley telling stories from the ages that made him wonder how old the demon really was. When he finally asked, Crowley gave him an unreadable look.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “No demon does really. They take our names, our memories of being human from us eventually. Once we're so broken they can't use them to torment us any longer. Dean was lucky to get out when he did.” His expression was surprisingly wistful. “But sometimes … sometimes I see … someone. A woman … with red hair. And …” A pained expression crossed his face and he looked away.
Bobby shifted uncomfortably. He reminded himself that this was a demon, once the king of the crossroad demons. He didn’t deserve sympathy … but he knew that kind of pain.
“So you were there during the time of Caligula?” he asked abruptly. “Was he really as nuts as they say?”
Crowley snorted, good humor restored. “Worse. And the funniest thing about it is that neither I nor any other demon had a thing to do with it. It was all him and that crazy family of his.”
They spent the night talking, swapping stories. Crowley imparted a surprising amount of information Bobby never knew about various supernatural creatures and didn’t seem at all put out when Bobby grabbed a notebook and pen to take notes.
At some point, when Bobby was on the verge of nodding off, he heard the demon speak quietly.
“You might want to spread the word about me and Gabriel. Keep the hunters away. If they try to kill me … or worse, succeed … Gabriel will kill them. If they’re lucky, he’ll just kill them. Might just want to let them know.”
Bobby cracked an eye open to glare at the demon. “You just wanna make your life easier,” he grumbled.
Crowley smirked at him. “Of course.” With that he vanished and Bobby snuggled more comfortably in the chair to sleep.
He woke up the next morning with a surprisingly clear head and a heavy weight on his chest. He opened his eyes to glower at the sleeping puppy.
“Oh no. Oh no! Damn it, Crowley! You forgot the damn puppy!” Bobby could almost hear the demon’s laughter. He scowled at the now-awake puppy, which was happy and eager to see him. “What the hell do I do with you?”
The puppy yipped in response, doing a little I-gotta-pee dance that the man recognized from previous puppies. He sighed, scooping her up and tucking her under his arm as he rose. “Well, if you’re staying, first thing you learn is no peeing in the house. Or anything else. Come on, I’ll show you where the doggy door is.”
He grabbed the notebook he’d been taking notes in then paused, frowning at the page it was open to.
If you need any more obscure information, call me. 888-276-9539.
Bobby gave a snort of laughter. Shaking his head, he stomped over to let the puppy out.
ooOoo
“Awwww, that’s almost sweet.” Gabriel slipped his arms around the demon from behind and nuzzled his neck.
After his first instinct … which was to throw himself across as many states as possible … Crowley recognized his lover and relaxed. He watched as Bobby let the dog out, stepping out on the porch to keep an eye on her.
“Don’t be a prat. I’m just trying to make my life easier. Maybe he can get the hunters off my back. Besides,” He unfurled his wings. “I need new contacts. Most of my old ones have been fried.”
“They’re trying to kill you anyway.” Gabriel pointed out. He nodded at Bobby. “First you give him his legs back now you give him a puppy. Should I be jealous?”
Crowley gave him a sharp look but saw only humor in his eyes. “We needed him walking and the puppy was just there. Don’t make me out to be a nice guy,” he muttered.
Gabriel smirked. He wasn’t as good at it as Crowley was but he did have his moments. “And yet he’s still walking. Any other demon would have taken that ability back once it lost its usefulness to him. And you didn’t have to give him his soul back.”
Crowley was squirming uncomfortably now but Gabriel didn’t stop.
“You didn’t have to take that puppy to him. Or give him all that information. Or leave your number.” He turned the demon to face him. His wings were out now, glimmering white to Crowley’s black. “Admit it, you like him.”
Crowley sucked in breath to protest then sighed instead. He couldn’t lie to Gabriel, never could lie to the archangel. “Bobby’s all right,” he admitted grudgingly. “Those two dunderheads I could do without but Bobby’s smart enough to know killing me, especially now, wouldn’t serve any purpose except get you mad. So I give him some information that won’t do me any harm. Seems fair.” He looked at the archangel defiantly.
Gabriel looked at him in a manner he rarely did; as if he could see deep inside him, deep down to that area where his soul would be if he still had one. “Of course. Perfectly fair. Shall we?” He tugged on his lover’s hand and they took to the skies, winging their way home.
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairings: Gabriel/Crowley, Bobby
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Bobby gets a visit from the former King of the Crossroad Demons and Crowley reveals more of himself then he ever meant to.
Notes: I've been totally ruined. First I write wing!kink, of all things, and now I seem to have a mini-series going. Here's the second story. I am writing these as I go so I have no idea how many there will be or how long it is.
Bobby Singer paused in mid-pour, frowning at the feeling creeping up his spine. With a single quick motion, he set the bottle on the counter and spun, the hidden shotgun in hand and aimed at the figure standing in the middle of his kitchen.
"Well, now." Amusement dripped from the familiar voice. "Is that any way to great an old friend?"
"We ain't friends." Bobby growled automatically. This brought a laugh from the demon but no comment, which surprised the hunter. But that wasn't the only thing to surprised him. In fact, he couldn't tell what surprised him more. Maybe it was the fact that the demon once known for his impeccable tailored suits was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Or maybe it was the raven-black wings he had half-folded around himself in an almost protective gesture. No, he finally decided. It was the fact that Crowley was holding a large-footed puppy in his arms, a puppy that squirmed and whined to be let down.
"This yours?" Crowley asked, setting the puppy down. All huge head and paws, the puppy looked to be a Rottweiler. It promptly clumped over to sniff at Bobby's boots.
"Hell, no! I don't have a dog! Where'd you get it?"
"Found her sniffing around a corner of your fence." Crowley opened a cabinet then another, finally dragging out a large bowl. Before Bobby could protest the bowl was filled with water and on the floor.
"Why'd you bring it here?"
Crowley shrugged. "It …she rather … was outside your fence. Thought maybe she belonged here." He straightened from petting the puppy, brushing his hands off as he eyed the man.
Bobby scowled back, finally nodding at the wings. "Thought those would go away."
Crowley blinked, the wings folding around him. He absently caressed one, seemingly unaware he was even doing it. "So did I," he said finally. "But they didn't. Not that I mind, really."
"Suppose not," Bobby muttered. "Must be some kudos. Being the only demon with wings."
Crowley arched an eyebrow. "Hardly," he said dryly. "The angels are having fits at the mere thought. Apparently they are of the opinion that wings are an angel-only thing. Only the fact that …" He stopped abruptly then shrugged. "Only Gabriel's protection has kept them from doing something about it."
Bobby studied the demon, narrow-eyed. "Why would Gabriel be protecting you?"
Crowley blinked in obvious surprise. "Castiel didn't tell …" He caught himself with a rueful laugh. "I suppose not. It would seem he's keeping a number of things from you." He ran a finger absently around the collar of his shirt before abruptly pulling it down far enough for Bobby to see the handprint seared into his skin, just where his heart would be. "He's my lover. My … mate, if you will," he said simply, releasing the collar and smoothing it back into place. "By mutual agreement," he added with some defiance, as if that had been in doubt by others.
Bobby gawked at him then laughed abruptly, finally lowering the shotgun. "Bet that gave the boys upstairs fits."
"In a major way." Crowley chuckled then sobered, a hand gripping the edge of one wing and Bobby suspected that not even the archangel's protection had kept him from at least some harm. "Any demon still left on Earth is out to kill me anyway, wings or no, for betraying Lucifer. Angels stay away because of …" He touched his chest and the claiming mark there. "I stay away from the crossroads these days and away from hunters. None have found my home yet. As long as they don't I'm fairly safe." He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself more then Bobby.
Bobby frowned. "So why are you here?" he asked gruffly, his fingers tightening on the shotgun.
"To clear up a misconception you're still laboring under and shouldn't be, if certain angels did what they're supposed to." Crowley's voice was surprisingly kind as he spoke. "Your soul is your own and has been since before you went to confront Lucifer."
Bobby blinked, unsure if he'd heard right. "Excuse me?"
"Castiel was supposed to tell you but for some reason he never did. I gave you back your soul before you and angel-boy went off to confront Lucifer. Just in case." Crowley leaned against the counter, sweeping his wings around himself.
"Do you ever put those away?" Bobby blurted out, his mind still trying to process what the demon was telling him.
"Not if I can help it. Drives Gabriel crazy but then he's had his all his existence, hasn't he?"
"True enough. Why didn't you tell me yourself?"
Crowley rolled his eyes. "With the Hardy Boys just straining to knife me the second they had a chance? No, thank you. Castiel knew you had your soul as soon as he brought you back from the dead; angels can always tell. Why he didn't tell you I don't know. At a guess I'd say he preferred to keep me on your collective shit lists more then he wanted to ease your mind."
Bobby scowled at that. "How do I know you're not lying?"
Crowley smirked. "I don't lie. Not when the truth is so much more fun. And whether you believe it or not, I keep my word. But if you want to check just ask him, straight out, next time you see him. Or ask Gabriel next time he swings by.”
Bobby eyed him for a moment longer then grunted, turning to put the shotgun away. He opened a couple cupboards, finally finding a can of dog food left from the days when he had a dog. After opening it he hesitated then opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, tossing it to the surprised demon. “Might as well sit down,” he muttered as he found an old dog dish and dumped the can’s contents into it.
When he finally turned back to the demon it was to see him sitting at the kitchen table, absently making wet rings on the table with the cold bottle as he watched the puppy gobble down the food. His wings were gone now, folded back into wherever it was they kept their wings.
“Knew she belonged here.”
“Like hell. She ain’t staying.” Bobby pulled out a beer of his own and sat down, glaring at the demon. “So … no crossroads?”
“No crossroads.” Crowley sighed. “No where to send the souls. Hell is closed off to me.”
Bobby grunted. “Miss it?” He reached hastily for a towel as the demon sputtered beer over the table.
“You are joking!” Crowley coughed, wiping at his face. He glared at the spilled beer and cleared it with a gesture. He scowled at the empty bottle and snapped another into existence. “No, I do not miss it,” he growled. “I spent centuries … millennia … clawing my way out of there and nothing could ever make me go back!” He hesitated, his face, for a moment, open and somewhat lost. “But it has been the only thing I’ve known for … longer then I care to remember. It’s hard, sometimes, to …” His voice trailed off and he looked at Bobby in some surprise, as if suddenly realizing who he was talking to.
“Been hanging around Gabriel too long,” Bobby said and Crowley gave him a grateful look for breaking the mood.
“Yes, I suppose I have been.” His hand absently touched his shirt where the claiming mark was. “So …” He waved a hand. “What do you do when you’re not hunting?” There was very real curiosity in the demon’s voice.
Under different circumstances, Bobby would have been suspicious of Crowley’s question … hell, he was suspicious anyway but sitting here with an over-sized puppy snuffling in the corners and the crossroads demon looking relaxed in jeans and t-shirt and a neat row of beer waiting to be drunk ... he leaned back in the chair and started talking.
Sometime in the night they moved to the living room. Crowley vanished long enough to get a double-order of Chinese and was properly awed by Bobby’s expertise with chopsticks. They talked about all kinds of things, Crowley telling stories from the ages that made him wonder how old the demon really was. When he finally asked, Crowley gave him an unreadable look.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “No demon does really. They take our names, our memories of being human from us eventually. Once we're so broken they can't use them to torment us any longer. Dean was lucky to get out when he did.” His expression was surprisingly wistful. “But sometimes … sometimes I see … someone. A woman … with red hair. And …” A pained expression crossed his face and he looked away.
Bobby shifted uncomfortably. He reminded himself that this was a demon, once the king of the crossroad demons. He didn’t deserve sympathy … but he knew that kind of pain.
“So you were there during the time of Caligula?” he asked abruptly. “Was he really as nuts as they say?”
Crowley snorted, good humor restored. “Worse. And the funniest thing about it is that neither I nor any other demon had a thing to do with it. It was all him and that crazy family of his.”
They spent the night talking, swapping stories. Crowley imparted a surprising amount of information Bobby never knew about various supernatural creatures and didn’t seem at all put out when Bobby grabbed a notebook and pen to take notes.
At some point, when Bobby was on the verge of nodding off, he heard the demon speak quietly.
“You might want to spread the word about me and Gabriel. Keep the hunters away. If they try to kill me … or worse, succeed … Gabriel will kill them. If they’re lucky, he’ll just kill them. Might just want to let them know.”
Bobby cracked an eye open to glare at the demon. “You just wanna make your life easier,” he grumbled.
Crowley smirked at him. “Of course.” With that he vanished and Bobby snuggled more comfortably in the chair to sleep.
He woke up the next morning with a surprisingly clear head and a heavy weight on his chest. He opened his eyes to glower at the sleeping puppy.
“Oh no. Oh no! Damn it, Crowley! You forgot the damn puppy!” Bobby could almost hear the demon’s laughter. He scowled at the now-awake puppy, which was happy and eager to see him. “What the hell do I do with you?”
The puppy yipped in response, doing a little I-gotta-pee dance that the man recognized from previous puppies. He sighed, scooping her up and tucking her under his arm as he rose. “Well, if you’re staying, first thing you learn is no peeing in the house. Or anything else. Come on, I’ll show you where the doggy door is.”
He grabbed the notebook he’d been taking notes in then paused, frowning at the page it was open to.
If you need any more obscure information, call me. 888-276-9539.
Bobby gave a snort of laughter. Shaking his head, he stomped over to let the puppy out.
ooOoo
“Awwww, that’s almost sweet.” Gabriel slipped his arms around the demon from behind and nuzzled his neck.
After his first instinct … which was to throw himself across as many states as possible … Crowley recognized his lover and relaxed. He watched as Bobby let the dog out, stepping out on the porch to keep an eye on her.
“Don’t be a prat. I’m just trying to make my life easier. Maybe he can get the hunters off my back. Besides,” He unfurled his wings. “I need new contacts. Most of my old ones have been fried.”
“They’re trying to kill you anyway.” Gabriel pointed out. He nodded at Bobby. “First you give him his legs back now you give him a puppy. Should I be jealous?”
Crowley gave him a sharp look but saw only humor in his eyes. “We needed him walking and the puppy was just there. Don’t make me out to be a nice guy,” he muttered.
Gabriel smirked. He wasn’t as good at it as Crowley was but he did have his moments. “And yet he’s still walking. Any other demon would have taken that ability back once it lost its usefulness to him. And you didn’t have to give him his soul back.”
Crowley was squirming uncomfortably now but Gabriel didn’t stop.
“You didn’t have to take that puppy to him. Or give him all that information. Or leave your number.” He turned the demon to face him. His wings were out now, glimmering white to Crowley’s black. “Admit it, you like him.”
Crowley sucked in breath to protest then sighed instead. He couldn’t lie to Gabriel, never could lie to the archangel. “Bobby’s all right,” he admitted grudgingly. “Those two dunderheads I could do without but Bobby’s smart enough to know killing me, especially now, wouldn’t serve any purpose except get you mad. So I give him some information that won’t do me any harm. Seems fair.” He looked at the archangel defiantly.
Gabriel looked at him in a manner he rarely did; as if he could see deep inside him, deep down to that area where his soul would be if he still had one. “Of course. Perfectly fair. Shall we?” He tugged on his lover’s hand and they took to the skies, winging their way home.