Dubiously Loving For theangel_cas and iustiviri

[soulkink]

Crowley was perhaps a bit too invested in playing the villain.  Yes, he'd known the weapon to kill Dick would knock Dean and Castiel straight into Purgatory.  No, he hadn't told them.  If he had, Sam would have ended up there right along with them, because the Winchesters were morons like that, and there would have been no one to stop the

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[iustiviri]

It wasn't like he thought it would be -- not that he'd given it much thought beyond not wanting to open the door in the first damn place. But now here he was, in the darkest depths of the Earth, in the in-between where monsters dwelled. Monsters that he put here. It's a wonder he hasn't been skewed yet, though he has Cas to thank for that, mostly. The angel coming through for him yet again, despite everything, despite his declined mental state and everything left broken between them. He swears if they get out of this he's getting Cas a goddamn medal or something.

Time seems to stand still yet move at the same time. There are moments where it feels like only hours and some where it feels like years, and he's not exactly sure which is which and which is real. Just that it's dark, so dark. Darkness everywhere and sometimes he can barely see two feet in front of him and has to rely on Cas to help him, because the angel can see perfectly where he can't. The crazy leading the blind. How laughable is that? Except he's not laughing, not anymore, not here.

How many have they fought now? Can they even die here? The monsters, that is, if this is where they're sent when they die on Earth, what happens if they die here? Or is it a neverending cycle something like Hell? At least Dean can now say he's been everywhere and in between. Heaven, Hell, Earth and now Purgatory. He thinks he should get some sort of award for surviving it all, if they ever get back. If he survives this.

Then there's a light, like a door opening, splitting the darkest black wide open and it's so utterly blindingly bright that he has to close his eyes and cover his face with his arm, his other hand firmly attached to Cas' own, because he'll be damned if both of them don't get out of this. He's not leaving Cas there, not at all. When the light fades Dean blinks his eyes open and it feels like they've been closed for so long he's not sure if what he's seeing is real.

"... Crowley?" Dean asks, disbelieving and his hand tightens around Cas' in the same moment he collapses to his knees because holy fucking shit he never thought they'd ever get out of there, thought they'd be stuck there forever with no end in sight. Son of a bitch he'd kiss the goddamn demon if he thought he'd be able to move enough to do it.

[theangel_cas]

Castiel had known more of purgatory than Dean had, but it wasn't as if he had been there before. He'd barely had a glance when he'd opened the door that first time. It was a strange place with twists and turns that were not unlike those in Hell, but this was less stark, more bland. The landscape went on for days and blurred into new, equally bland and dark places full of dangers.

The time passing was not strange for him. It was similar to the time in Heaven, though he could tell that it agitated Dean and he stuck close after that first time he'd gone to look around on his own. The dark crept in at times like a chill down his spine and he suspected that it felt no better for Dean as he clung to Castiel's arm.

The monsters were endless, their deaths only temporary, but it kept them at bay, at least. This place was strange--stranger than Heaven or Hell or Earth. Even with his angelic abilities, he couldn't always see as much as he'd like, but he kept that from Dean. There was no need to worry the hunter.

He felt the door before he could see it and grabbed at Dean just as Dean clung tighter to his arm. Whatever this was, they would face it together. His grip tightened as he felt the pull and then they were standing in a room in front of an uncharacteristically messy Crowley. Castiel was no fool. He knew how hard it must have been for him to do this. What he didn't understand was the why. Crowley had said himself that he wanted to crush Castiel. He was still angry and rightfully so. Castiel had betrayed him, too. They hadn't exactly been friends, but they'd been comrades and they'd had a deal and Castiel had been the one to ruin that. He still felt guilt for that, too.

He felt Dean drop down, loosened his grip on the man before following him down to kneel. His hands were shaking. He'd really thought that they were going to die in there, that he was going to lose Dean.

He looked up at Crowley, eyes wide and confused.

[soulkink]

"Yes, well... Your fairy godmother took the night off."

His voice is heavy, strained, and he's leaning against the wall because he can't stand on his own and he's unwilling to be quite that obviously weak when whether the pair will try to kiss him or kill him is still up in the air. One human soul and one angelic Grace amidst the millions of monstrous souls that filled purgatory; it had taken the Word of God to even figure out how to do it. Translated thanks to one AP student now busy with his admission to Princeton.

He raises an eyebrow, looking at the pair that don't look too much better off than he is. But, Castiel is still an angel, and Dean is still an infuriatingly resourceful denim-wrapped nightmare. He doesn't hate Dean. Should, perhaps, considering just how badly he tried to have him killed the year before, but he doesn't, not really. He took he blame for Cas, built himself up as the perfect villain. And the both seem to understand survival, even if Dean flies in the face of it as often as not.

"Both in one piece, I hope?"

He looks at Cas, looks at him long and hard, and he really wants to waltz away because a part of him knows that he's showing his hand. Time and effort and power given away just to get them back here. There's a line about needing them to help Sam with Leviathans, but, honestly? The Moose has been doing admirably on his own. Crowley's even been keeping an eye on him, when he can spare it.

Hell knows things wouldn't have ended well if Sam had managed to get himself killed. Self interest, nothing more -- he keeps trying to tell himself that.

[iustiviri]

Dean's not so stubborn that he can't see a gift when it's given, especially now, after Purgatory. Even if it is Crowley he has to be thankful to, he's more than willing. He's tired, feels like he hasn't slept for years but now that he's back he's hard pressed to want to sleep, doesn't think he'd be able to, not with monsters still chasing him even in his dreams -- like those first few months after Hell all over again.

"Seem's like." Dean pushes himself up and gingerly pulls himself from Cas' grasp, hand on his shoulder, letting the angel know he's not leaving, just moving. Then he's walking over to Crowley and slipping his arm behind the demon's back, bearing some of his weight as he pulls him from the wall.

"C'mon, you look like shit," he says, probably the closest he can come to a thanks for right now, at least until he knows this isn't a dream or he hasn't been attacked by a Djinn or something.

Dean then looks over to Cas and nods for him to come closer. "Think you can zap us somewhere safe?" Because they both owe Crowley that much -- more than that, really.

[soulkink]

Crowley nods at the proclamation that they were both in one piece, although he thought that sentiment was likely still less than appropriate when applied to the broken angel that Cas had become. He tenses, watches as Dean walks away from the angel with a touch of a shoulder that he wants to say doesn't make him jealous. It does, still does, always has. He tried so hard to keep the angel to himself, to use their Agreement to keep him from always walking in reeking of the Impala and Dean. He really should want them both Dead. It would certainly be easier.

He's still not sure exactly what the Winchester's intentions are, but he's hoping that this uncomfortable gesture of altruism at least buys him something other than a shallow grave. Dean's slipping an arm around him, and Crowley relaxes into it a little as the hunter helps him away from the wall. He laughs, a raised eyebrow as Dean comments on his appearance.

"You're so sweet, love. You know, not all of us pause to style our hair."

Of course it was probably more the blood, but details were details. He held onto Dean a little, his lips pressing together because he did need the support. Crowley had power, yes, but the spell had used a lot of it. He was just glad that it had worked, that the two people he was unfortunately embarrassingly attached to we're back safe and sound as they ever were. A little more damaged, perhaps, but that was hardly something new.

"I'd ask for someplace nice, but I know you're allergic to class, so I suppose I shouldn't get my hopes up."

[theangel_cas]

Castiel loosened his grip and let Dean go, looking up at Dean at that touch to his shoulder and nodding. He knew they weren't back to where they'd been before his betrayal. They likely never would be, but being in Purgatory had forced them to rely on each other again. He hoped that that wouldn't go away now that they were out.

He looked over at Crowley and the demon really did look terrible. It wasn't just physical, either. He looked drained. Castiel had known right away that it had to have taken a lot out of Crowley, to do this, but he hadn't thought about how much until he'd really looked.

He approached them slowly. He wasn't exactly in his top form, either. Purgatory had been draining him and he's been fighting through it. He stumbled a little on his way over before laying a hand on each of them.

He tried to think of a safe place. The closest thing to home was whatever dingy motel had Dean in it. He chose a motel in Idaho. It had ugly brown wallpaper and two full beds and after their time spent in Purgatory, it was one of the most beautiful rooms Castiel had ever seen. Once there, his grip on both of their arms stayed tight, as if he was afraid that either of them could disappear and he would suddenly be back in Purgatory, alone. He would have stayed there for Dean if there was a way he could have found to get Dean out, but that didn't mean that the idea hadn't scared him. Being there with Dean was bad enough. Being there alone would have been unbearable.

He still hadn't spoken since they'd appeared in that room with Crowley. He didn't know what to say to either of them. Apologies only went so far, he'd learned.

[iustiviri]

Dean blinks away the sense of unbalance after they're transported to the motel, and he doesn't think he'll ever get the hang of that, no matter how many times it's done to him. Shaking his head to rid himself of it, he looks around and his lips twitch up a little. He used to hate these dingy motels, cheaper than the cheapest he could ever afford but right now it's the best thing he's ever seen.

But when he moves, Cas' grip stops him, the hunter looking down to where Cas' hand his tight around his arm. He let's out a sigh, only slightly exasperated and twists his hand up to grip at Cas' arm in return. "C'mon," he murmurs, nodding toward the bed and then to Crowley still leaning heavily against him as he moves toward the bed, taking Cas with him forcefully if he has to.

They all need the rest, Crowley and Cas more so than himself, he thinks. He's only human, after all. With the help he desposites Crowley onto the bed, nearly topples over with him but catches himself before. He's tired and worn and part of him still thinks this might be some sort of trick, because they can't have been so lucky.

He doesn't think 'thank you' will ever be enough for either of them. Crowley or Cas. Espsecially Cas. He knows he's been a jackass more often than not but only because he didn't know what else to do, fell back on the anger and irritation which left him snapping, because that at least he knew how to do, how to control when everything else was so far out of his hands and left him grasping. Cas could have left him, run away and hidden himself from the monsters, but he hadn't and had chosen to fight. With him, for him.

There isn't enough words to express just how grateful he is for it.

[soulkink]

This clearly wasn't what he'd had in mind when he'd said nice, but he really doesn't have any room to complain at the moment, and so he doesn't, although the distaste on his face is unmistakable. He leans in a little to the way that Castiel holds onto him, holds onto them both, as if he's afraid to lose them. For a brief moment it's nice, though he's aware the angel probably is just afraid of being alone. Who wouldnt be after Purgatory?

He lets himself be helped onto one of the beds, stretches out and eyes the pair. Part of him wants to tear them apart, the other part... He tries not to think about he other part. The one that's jealous, that wants the way they look at one another, the way they feel. Demons don't actually read minds, contrary to the hopeful prayers of every hunter ever told an unpleasant truth -- but they can pick up emotions, and the way they feel at one another flares those human feelings in his heart. Crowley is that doe-eyed story sold to Dean by Ruby in a parking lot. He remembers being human, and there are certain inescapable desires that filter through, sometimes. Maybe other times he's just better at ignoring it.

"You sure I shouldn't let you two have your sickening wobbly-eyed glad-to-be-alive carnal reaquaintance alone?"

Arched eyebrow, a tinge of anger in his voice that ebbs into jealousy. Not that he has anywhere to go, really. Anywhere he'd go, some demon would catch his scent. And being this weak as the King of Hell was a recipe for death at the hands of whatever up-start happens to think they could do a better job. Unfortunately, this is really the best place to be.

[theangel_cas]

Nodding at Dean, Castiel helped him take some of Crowley's weight as they moved towards the bed. He didn't let go of either of them until Crowley was on the bed, and even then, his hand stayed on Dean, if a bit looser, and the other hovered closely next to Crowley. He had no right to think Crowley owed him anything. He'd owed Crowley even before this. He wasn't going to push at something like that, even if he was concerned.

He felt weak, himself. It was not a feeling that he was accustomed to and in Purgatory he'd been too busy to do anything but ignore it. Now, though, he felt weary and tired. It permeated down to his grace.

He didn't expect Dean to thank him. He still had so much to make up for. He had so much he owed both of them, now. He was unsure if it was even possible to fix his mistakes or to repay Crowley for getting them out. He couldn't help but expect the other shoe to drop with that part, either. Why had Crowley risked so much for them?

At Crowley's words, he finally let go of Dean's arm, pulling his hand back quickly. If Crowley's words hit just a little too close to home when it came to his feelings, he hoped Dean wouldn't notice. He knew that he was obvious to Crowley, but Dean had never seemed to pick up on it and he wanted to keep it that way.

His eyes fell to Crowley, still confused and disoriented as he blinked a few times. He could barely stand himself and he felt himself wobbling before he sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

[iustiviri]

Dean pushes himself up, having felt himself too close to the demon than was strictly necessary and moves just in time to help Cas sit down as he collapses to the bed. "Definitely time for a vacation, don't you think? Somewhere sunny and warm." Because it'd been too cold and too dark in Purgatory, even the light of the room feels too bright and too hot on his skin, thinks it'll take awhile to get used to it again, even direct sunlight, maybe.

If Dean notices the way Cas snatches his hand back, he doesn't say anything but he has though, noticed. He's aware of this -- thing between them that he isn't quite ready to define. Feels himself the cause for what's happened to Cas. Everything, everything was because of Dean. He should have stayed, he thinks, should have shoved Cas through the door and let the monsters have him. At times he was no better.

The same, he supposes, could be said for Crowely as well. The demon has helped them on more than one ocassion, despite there being something in it for him as well. Their relationship, if one can call it that, is tentative at best. He's attracted, he knows, has realized, to both of them. One good and one bad, each on a shoulder.

They all look worn and haggard, tired and exhausted, the two otherworldly beings moreso than himself. He shrugs his jacket off and then his button up, leaving only his t-shirt on, then removes his shoes which feels so fucking good, having been in them for years it feels like, running and running. Now that he's out, if he's really out, he doesn't know what to do now.

[theangel_cas]

When Castiel sits, his hand finds its way to land on Crowley's arm. It stays there, feeling the demon's warm skin under his own. Crowley was such an enigma to him. Truthfully, they both had a good chance of being able to hurt, maybe even kill the other of they wanted to and they had spent so much time delivering threats to each other, but something held each other them back from carrying out those threats. Angry as he could get at the demon, he doesn't want him gone.

He nods absentmindedly at Dean's question. He's not even sure what a vacation is for them at this point. He's just happen to be alive and back on Earth where Dean belongs, where Castiel used to belong. He looks Crowley in the eyes, finally speaking for the first time since they'd arrived from Purgatory. "Why?" He swallows. "What could you possibly get out of this?"

It shouldn't matter. None of them are stuck in Purgatory. They're all alive. That's most important, but he has to know. Crowley was the last person he expected to help them. He'd thought it would be Sam or no one and much as he believes in Sam, Sam is only one man. He expected them to die in Purgatory. His only goal was to protect Dean for as long as he was able in case there was a way back.

[soulkink]

Crowley rolls his eyes when the two sickening little lovebirds, or whatever it is they are, all but ignore his jibe. He sees, however, the way that Cas snaps his hand back, as of afraid of being caught, as if Dean might finally pick up on the clearly obvious sexual tension that hangs over them like a nauseating cloud if he's still touching him. He really doesn't understand how this little charade of their is still going on.

He is intensely aware of the warmth, the weight of Castiel's hand on his bare arm, and he looks down at it before glancing back up, and when he looks back up, Castiel is looking at him. The intent weight of those clear blues like before the angel broke, and there's a part of him that thinks maybe all he really needed was a war to fix the little soldier. And then there's that question, and Crowley can't look away.

"Please. Are you really that much of a moron, love?"

An arch of an eyebrow, a glance between Dean and Castiel, waiting to see if either of them catches onto the obvious. Cas of either of them really should know this. Crowley never tried to hide his attraction, wore it easy and on his sleeve, and angry on his lips when he was reprimanding Cas like a boyfriend with lipstick on his collar. The sick part, is that there's something in him that wants Dean to. Moron with a to the that moves faster than his brain, pretty and deadly and he remembers how fucking pretty he was with a blade in his hand. But that he keeps close to his chest.

His other hand comes up, rests over Castiel's. His angel. His hunter, too, but that's complex, harder to explain. That bloodied after they'd caugh Brady that was a part of him that wanted to kiss his breath away, lick away the bloodied trails. But that had been business, not pleasure. And he does know when not to mix the two.

Most of the time.

[iustiviri]

Dean looks between the two at the question, the hand on Cas' hand and -- oh. OH. Oh. Uh, well then. That is... wholly unexpected. And goddammit if it doesn't leave him a little jealous to boot. Which is totally, completely stupid because he doesn't get jealous over shit like this like a goddamn sixteen year old.

Only he's not quite sure just which he's jealous about. The fact that Crowley has affections -- as much as a demon can have anyway -- for Cas or the fact that he doesn't have them for Dean. It's stupid, is what it is.

Dean glances away, wishes he had some goddamn booze to drink cause he needs it now more than ever. Had pretty much gone cold turkey down in Purgatory and fuck, he'd felt it the first couple weeks, days, whatever. He doesn't even want to tell Cas what Crowley means, because he doesn't want Cas to know and fuck it all he doesn't want Crowley to do anything about it. Because hello, jealous apparently.

[theangel_cas]

"You said you wanted to crush me in your teeth." His eyes don't leave Crowley's. "And you would't take the honey I collected." That had been a peace offering. Well, sort of, anyway. He was thinking a little more clearly now than he'd been at the time, but it still seemed like a nice gesture. Honey was very healthy and he had collected that honey himself. Perhaps he should have put it in a jar or something instead of a ziplock. That might have been nicer.

He looked down at Crowley's hand over his own, oblivious to Dean's discomfort. "You had every right to want me dead after what I did."

Yes, there was something sexual, almost predatory about the way Crowley looked at him, the way he talked to him, but he had never known how much of it was intended to be serious. Plenty of demons just talked like that and it wasn't as if Crowley ever attempted to do anything but talk. So maybe Castiel was a little dense about this sort of thing. He was an angel. He wasn't exactly equipped for flirting or sexual innuendo.

[soulkink]

Crowley was not quite as oblivious to Dean's discomfort, but figured it mostly as jealousy over Cas. It was in a strange way comforting to know that at least one other person in the room had put together what he was talking about. Despite his own conflicted feelings over Dean, he didn't imagine that the hunter was similarly afflicted. Most of the time Crowley didn't think the hunter really had eyes for anyone that wasn't Cas, anyway.

"I did say I wanted to crush you in my teeth. Sadly, I don't think you'd let me."

He doesn't flinch, doesn't look away, and his eyes are smouldering, a flick of his tongue along his bottom lip as he watches the angel. It had been in public, and he'd been trying to seem more upset than he was, to hide the fact that part of him had been happy to see the angel alive. Overjoyed, in fact, mushy as the worst of Valentines Day Hallmark cards. But, there's also the side of the coin that Crowley finds biting rather enjoyable. Details. And he's just going to ignore the mention of the honey, because that had been a wrench into the tempest of his feelings. Conflicted to begin with, and then Castiel had been broken, unable to even address the point he was trying to make.

"I did want you dead. But, I was being rather tempermental at the time, to be fair. You betrayed me, Castiel. After everything I'd done for you. That... hurt."

Crowley frowns, shifts a little because he doesn't like admitting that, doesn't like admitting that he feels more than a demon should. He sighs, shrugs and gives up trying to hide it.

"Oh, sod it all. I'm horrifyingly, impossibly radio-love-song in love with the both of you, you stupid little angel."

[iustiviri]

Dean just stares.

And stares.

Because surely he's heard that wrong and Crowley had not just said that he was in love with them. Because that's just absurd. Demons can't love anyone, right? But then he thinks about how loyal they are, even if they are soulless pieces of shit, sorry Crowley. Yet at the same time he feels something coil tight and hot in his gut and he tries to ignore it.

It's the same feeling he gets when Cas gets all up in his personal space like he belongs there. He doesn't even begin to know how to understand the way Cas is now, if Cas even understands himself what Crowley is talking about and he sure as shit doesn't wanna have the birds and the bees talk with him, because he's sure Cas will just get confused or something and want to collect more honey. He's still trying to get the image of the angel covered in bees out of his head. While he wouldn't have minded, you know, seeing him naked or anything the whole bees thing was sort of a turn off.

"He's not gonna kill you, Cas. Wouldn't be able to now even if he wanted to." Dean is still trying to wrap his head around this whole conversation.