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They arrived at the portal at sundown.
Without surprise, Crowley realized he would actually miss Mary.
She seemed to be thinking along the same lines because she said, “We’ve been through much together in the last two years.”
They had. Him waking up human after having killed himself as a demon for reasons he had yet to understand, him finding the last remaining humans, finding out Mary had joined them as well, all teaming up to get rid of Lucifer, finally bringing peace to this world by negotiating with both the angels and the demons...
It almost made him dizzy to think about it.
And then, after almost twenty-four months of non-stop fighting, they’d learned about the portal. The portal that could bring exactly one human back to their world.
Their home.
He’d tried very hard not to think about the world he’d come from like this, but he couldn’t help it. As little as they had ever cared about him, Dean, Sam and Castiel had been the only friends he’d ever made in his life – both mortal and as a demon.
He was certain Mary could tell he yearned to step trough the portal himself. To return home.
And as a demon, he would have done it.
But he wasn’t a demon anymore. He was human, with all teh guilt, regrets and emotions it entailed, and he knew he couldn’t keep the boys from reuniting with their mother.
“You want to go back, don’t you?” Mary asked quietly.
Lying was pointless. She’d come to know him too well. He nodded.
She dropped her bag.
“I don’t know if they’ll be happy to see me”.
“I’m sure they will.”
When she didn’t answer, he added, “At least they’ll be much gladder than if I suddenly knocked on the bunker’s doors again.”
He could just imagine the distain on the boy’s faces when they realized he actually needed a place to sleep for the night, how they’d clean out the room farthest from their own, how he’d be expected to leave as soon as possible.
And yet not even those expectations made it easier for him to watch the portal close behind Mary.
After a pause, she said, “I’m their mother. I only wanted what was best for them. I still do.”
“Being a parent entails difficult decisions” he agreed, as always with a pang – stronger than when he’d watched him walk away, courtesy of his human emotions – as he thought of Gavin.
“At least” she began, her voice breaking.
She cleared her throat.
“At least this time everyone agrees I am doing the right thing”.
He couldn’t recall any lengthy discussions. Everyone had just known what the discovery of the portal meant.
But then – maybe she hadn’t wanted Crowley to hear them. Because she knew. Of course she knew.
She knew how desperately he wanted to go home.
But he couldn’t.
The things he’d done...
He still had nightmares. None of the other campers had ever mentioned it.
Mary held out a hand.
“Goodbye, Crowley”.
He grasped it firmly. For two years, longer than the boys had got to spend with her, they’d fought side by side, and sometimes each other when they didn’t agree with their respective plans; and he liked to think she’d remember him as something like a friend.
“Good –“
It happened suddenly. In his defence, it never could have happened if she hadn’t taken him by complete surprise.
But with one twist and one shove, she’d thrown him right into the portal.
The last thing he heard before everything went dark was a cry of “Please look after them, Crowley!”
When he came to, he was lying in the woods.
And that was enough to remind him what had happened. There had been no more forests in that other world.
He got up, groaning.
She’d actually done it.
Mary had shoved him through the portal, the one that would have closed behind him again, and told him to look after the boys.
He didn’t understand. In what world would they be better off with him than with their mother?
Mary’s duffle bag was lying a few feet away from him. She must have thrown it after him immediately.
He opened it to find his suspicions confirmed. She’d filled it with his clothes and the few odds and ends he’d acquired during their struggles instead of her belongings.
At least this time everyone agrees I am doing the right thing.
That was what she had said. And suddenly, their departure this evening made sense.
Of course the whole camp had shown up to bid Mary Winchester goodbye. Ever since she and Crowley had managed to take down Lucifer together last year, they’d been something like the unofficial leaders, alongside this universe’s Bobby Singer, of course.
“Mary” he began, “We’ll miss you. But we get it”.
Mary smiled.
There was melancholy in her eyes.
It was easy to understand.
She’d adjusted far quicker to this apocalyptic world because she had to, and had made friends in it; but still –
She’d go to get home.
Crowley quickly looked away as she talked with the other Jody Mills, as he’d come to call her (they’d never become close; guilt had finally reared its ugly head now that he was mortal again).
He turned away to find Bobby Singer looking at him.
This version was rather close to his counterpart. The boys would have loved him.
“Crowley. You’re accompanying Mary?”
“Yes. She asked me to”.
He couldn’t quite figure out why. Another annoying thing about being human: emotions tended to get in the way of rational thinking. He was too busy wandering what would happen if he went through the damn portal instead to completely grasp Mary’s motives.
Bobby nodded.
“Good. Wouldn’t want anyone stumbling out there alone.” He cleared his throat. “You’re a good fighter.”
“Just doing my best to show these demons what true majesty looks like”.
His former kingship had long been turned into the camp’s longest-running joke.
Bobby grinned before drawing him into a quick hug, taking him off guard.
“See you, Crowley”.
Looking back, it was easy to see everyone had made a point of telling him goodbye, not just Mary.
They’d all been in on it.
He swallowed as he grasped the handle of the duffle bag strongly enough for it to cut into his palm.
He was home.
They’d sent him home.
Mary’s last words –
For some reason, she’d become convinced that it would be better for her sons if Crowley came back.
But it was probable they’d not even let him into the bunker.
As a human, he was of no use to them.
But still –
He owned nothing but the things in the bag.
Yet he was home.
And Mary had given him a purpose.
He’d make his way to the bunker.
He had to try.
After he’d walked for a while, he thankfully stumbled onto a highway. Following it, he soon arrived at a small town – thankfully not small enough that people looked at every stranger suspiciously, although he did catch a few confused glances in his direction.
Small wonder, when he finally saw himself in the dirty mirror of a gas station bathroom.
The other universe hadn’t been exactly the cleanest. Or the most comfortable.
There was only so much he could do about his appearance now, though. First, he needed money and a car. Then he’d drive for a few hours and find a cheap motel.
Crowley sighed remembering the old days of thirty-year-old Craig and luxurious bathrooms.
He was still as adept at pick pocketing as he had always been though, and two hours later found him in what he would have once called a “pimp car” (he had miserably eyed a Mustang in the same parking lot, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself) on the way to Lebanon.
But as quickly as he wanted to get to the bunker – the very next day, as he was going through the local news, he heard about something sounding suspiciously like ghost activity.
He bit his lip.
Seemed like a quick salt and burn.
That night, he was on his way to the grave of the ghost. It hadn’t taken him long to figure out it was the old town drunk taking revenge.
Only when he arrived at the grave, someone else was there already, digging.
“Dean?” he asked before he could stop himself.
The hunter whipped around. Crowley had only a second to register the utter rage and disdain on his face before Dean threw himself at him.
Crowley, even as a human, had become an excellent fighter: the necessity of staying alive in the parallel world had ensured that. But he didn’t want to harm Dean in the slightest, and so it was only predictable that he ended up lying in the dirt, the hunter hovering over him, a silver knife pressed against his throat.
Dean still had the same expression on his face.
Seriously, what had Mary been thinking?
“It’s not even been a year” Dean hissed. “And you think you can just come here and impersonate – “
It was at this point, Crowley trying to figure out how Dean had decided that he was shifter of all things, when the ghost attacked.
He would have torn through Dean’s back if Crowley hadn’t thrown him off, feeling a slight nick on his neck, and rolled to safety himself.
He grabbed the iron bar he’d brought with him.
“The bones, Squirrel!”
Dean froze for a second, but then scrambled into action while Crowley kept the ghost at bay.
A few minutes later, it was all over.
Dean looked at the jarred remains of the bones, then back at Crowley.
He wordlessly handed him his knife.
“Alright. I’ll give you a chance to talk. Who are you?”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’d say “take a guess” but –“
“Everyone would know he used to call me Squirrel” Dean mused. “But if you’d really wanted to fool me you’d have worn a suit and you wouldn't have all those muscles”.
“You try to keep your weight stable in a puss-filled apocalyptic nightmare” he spat.
Dean unexpectedly chuckled.
“You got his accent down, I’ll give you that.”
“You know what? You don’t believe me, ask me anything, anything only I would know”.
Dean studied him for a moment with something like – fear? in his eyes.
“What did Crowley tell me when I came back down the elevator after he’d tricked me into letting several demons beat me up?”
That was easy enough, even though he winced at the memory.
“That’s what you get working with a demon”.
Dean’s eyes were wide as he approached him. He raised a hand and touched his shoulder.
“Crowley?”
“Yes.”
“You’re – alive – “
“And human, in case you’re wondering.”
Dean nodded.
“Alright.”
Crowley wasn’t surprised he didn’t take long to process the news. This was Dean Winchester, after all.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, but how?”
He was shocked when he realized Dean meant it.
But he really didn’t want to explain that his mother had decided to abandon him once again in an old graveyard.
He cleared his throat.
“Don’t get me wrong, Squirrel, but this talk definitely should not be had sober”.
“I’d been checking up on Garth when I read about this case, so I figured I might check it out –“
Crowley coughed.
Dean had decided to pick up the tab for tonight, so naturally he’d gone for a glass of Craig, only to realize that he’d only had light beer in the last two years.
Dean laughed.
“Oh my God, you’re a freaking light weight!”
“I will have you know I stabbed Lucifer in the chest.”
“Good for you”.
He eyed his shoulder.
“You got a tattoo?”
“Several. Have an anti-possession one on my collar bone, too.” Crowley shrugged. “Just realized I liked them”.
Dean nodded.
Then, after a pause, he asked, “What happened?”
“It’s been six months, right?”
He’d seen the date on a newspaper this morning.
When Dean nodded he said, “It’s been two years for me”.
“Huh.”
“When I stabbed myself, I was convinced this was it. I didn’t have anything to live for anyway. I hated Hell, my son and my mother were both dead – “ and the only ones I would have called my friends despised me, he wanted to add, but it seemed only pointless. Dean was apparently really happy to see him.
“And then I woke up human. I have no idea how, or why.”
“And so you killed Lucifer.”
“I wasn’t alone. Your mother...” he trailed off.
Dean swallowed and looked down at his glass.
“She dead?”
“No”.
And Crowley did his best to explain what had happened.
“Son of a bitch” Dean muttered in the end.
“Dean...” he began, unsure what to say. He didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to mother-son relationships himself.
“You know what’s making me angry? It’s not even that she chose to send you instead of going to find us herself.”
Dean stood up; his chair scrapped along the floor.
“It’s that she was goddamn right.”
Crowley didn’t know what to say.
“I need some air”.
Dean stormed out.
Crowley sighed.
After five minutes of nursing his drink, he went to look for him.
He was in the parking lot, talking on the phone.
“Yes, Sam, alright? I’m damn sure. You are the one who never lets me forget our “Summer of Love”” he snapped. “But you know what? Let her out. If it’s him, she’ll come running”.
Crowley withdrew into the shadows and waited until Dean hung up. Only then did he step up to him.
“Are you...” he stopped.
Dean chuckled.
“The former King of Hell just asked me if I’m alright...”
He shrugged.
“I have no idea, to be honest”.
“I could say the same.”
Dean grinned.
“Got a motel room yet?”
“No.”
“Wanna share?”
And that was how they ended up sharing a motel room.
Crowley was wondering who Dean could have been talking about on the phone. Was an angry Sheriff Mills about to descend upon him? But why would Sam have to “let her out?”
He was still pondering these questions when they heard a scratching noise at the door.
“Damn it, she’s fast” Dean said and before Crowley could ask, he went to open it.
The next thing he knew, there was an invisible but very happy hell hound in his lap, slobbering all over him.
He couldn’t even bring himself to feel annoyed.
“Juliet?”
She barked excitedly.
“Juliet!”
He patted her.
“Did you miss Papa?”
More slobbering.
Dean grimaced.
“Showed up at the bunker a few weeks after you – well. Didn’t feel right to get rid of her. Do you know she drinks Craig, by the way?”
“Of course. Only the best for my little girl.”
“Your – you know what, she’s sleeping on your bed.”
Of course she was.
He soon figured out that Dean wasn’t quite as annoyed by Juliet as he pretended to be, but he still put his foot down the next day.
“No. Dogs. In. The. Car. I don’t care if she’s invisible – she’ll be there sooner than us anyway.”
“Alright” he acquiesced, more out of surprised that Dean would so readily accept him as a passenger than anything else.
He crouched down.
“You be a good girl and go back to the bunker, alright? Papa’s going to be there soon. I promise”.
She licked his hand and left.
Dean shook his head.
“You and your hellhounds...”
“I will have you know they are very useful pets.”
“I know. One day, a group of ghouls tried to invade the bunker when we weren’t there.”
“How did it end?”
“What do you think? We came home and cleaned up ghoul bits for weeks.”
He grinned.
That was his girl.
They drove all day and way into the night to get to the bunker. Crowley’s biggest surprise was when after lunch, Dean mustered him once more up and down then handed him the keys to the Impala.
“Knock yourself out.”
“You’re letting me drive your car?”
“I’m tired. Plus, I’m curious about your driving. Bet you never got a licence.”
He shot him a glare. Dean winked.
“Knew it”.
It kept surprising him how comfortable his and Dean’s impromptu comradeship was.
They arrived late at night.
As expected, Juliet was waiting by the door for them.
Crowley petted her as Dean used his keys.
Sam and Cas were waiting for them in the dining room.
There was something... different about the angel.
He realized it was he was studying his tattoos.
“You’re human too, Cassie?”
“Long story” Dean said tiredly.
“Let’s just say baby Lucifer brought him back human so he could “enjoy paradise properly” and then I stabbed him when he started babbling about world domination”.
“Alright then. Hello, Moose.”
Sam shuffled his feet, obviously intent on saying something.
“No” Dean suddenly announced “We are not doing this.”
“But Dean he was – “
“I know, alright? I know. I also know the guy saved me from a ghost and got all teary-eyed when his freaking dog came to greet him. This is a good thing, okay? For once, we got a good thing, and I’m not going to ruin it. Crowley, you’re with me”.
“I didn’t get teary-eyed” he said petulantly as they strolled down the corridors, Juliet at his side.
“Sure you didn’t. Now, this is mine, Cas’, Sammy’s, Garth took that one, Claire declared this one her own, better not risk it, but the other should be...”
“You’re giving me a room?”
“I assumed you’d want to stay.”
He did. There was no denying it.
He reached down to pet Juliet once more as he nodded.
“Well then. Take your pick.”
In his room that night, he made a promise.
I will look after them, Mary. Come what may.