Chapter Text
Day 30
It’s been a month since he was quick enough to find his doppelganger in the parallel world and convince him that ending his miserable existence was the way to go and saved the world before he closed the gates of Hell once and for all. Souls can still slip through – can’t allow the increase in ghost activity – but there’ll be no more demons wreaking havoc apart from those who happened to be on earth when he slammed the door shut.
It gives him plenty of time to relax and occasionally visit the boys. Things have been quiet for a while now, since he conveniently showed up to kill off Satan’s spawn and Cas was miraculously brought back to life once again, human but healthy.
He’s walking down a hallway in the bunker; Dean made it abundantly clear that he prefers it when people “knock on doors and walk through them in case I am polishing my gun” so he’s decided to fulfil that particular wish.
A noise emitting from one of the store rooms draws his attention. With a blink of an eye, he’s standing right in the middle of it, looking down at...
Oh. He is somewhat surprised the Men of Letters managed to get hold of a basilisk’s egg.
Rather risky keeping it around.
Basilisk’s eggs are very powerful and as such very valuable, but there are a few drawbacks.
For one, it’s hot and could easily set anything it touches ablaze.
Well...
Anything with a shred of decency, that is.
Because the biggest irony of all concerning basilisk’s eggs is that only evil entities – demons, angry ghosts, occasionally a witch if she manages to be as wicked as his mother was – can touch it without getting burned.
Eggs like this one also have a tendency to move on their own, probably compelled by the same instinct that makes their parents turn anyone who looks at them directly into stone.
It has managed to open its box and roll halfway across the floor.
There’s a pair of gloves and pliers lying nearby, proving the boys already know what’s up.
He reaches out and takes it in his hand.
Huh. It even feels warm for him, and that’s saying something.
He carefully puts it back in the box. As he leaves the room, Dean strolls into the hallway.
“Crowley”.
“Squirrel. I put the egg where it belongs”.
Dean catches on immediately.
“Thought I heard it. Does this about once a month... thankfully it can’t get through the door, the Men of Letters were too careful. Thanks. Can be a real son of a bitch when it wants. We haven’t found a way to destroy it yet”.
He nods. Not even he is aware of a way to accomplish that.
“You staying for dinner?”
He doesn’t need to eat of course, but he will admit that Dean is a good cook.
“Since I’m already here...”
Day 40
He’s back at the bunker again. Dean, Sam and Cas are preparing to go on a hunt and he has nothing better to do, so he tags along.
No one says anything against it when he gets into the Impala. The backseat; he doesn’t feel like fighting over riding shotgun today.
“Do you have credentials?” Dean asks when they’re half way to Iowa.
“Sure” he replies. He’s always made certain that he can get in wherever he needs to be.
“Alright then, you can take the locals.”
His badge works like a charm. The little old lady at the reception of the police station even flirts with him a little, which surprises him because it’s easy to tell she has the kind of soul that should have flinched away from him subconsciously.
There’s a reason some people never meet demons. Self-preservation is a powerful instinct, which Mrs. Grover seems to lack.
He shrugs and moves on.
It turns out to be an easy salt-and-burn, but he still hangs around because he’s got nothing else to do and at least the boys are fun.
He drives back with them to the bunker too.
And only when the case is well and truly over and he’s said his goodbyes does he stop and think and realize he just went on a hunt with no other reason than he could.
Day 70
He’s had to put the basilisk’s egg away too more times in the mean time. They thing is growing annoying; he’s less and less disposed to deal with it, but it would be far more troublesome to force the boys to use the gloves and pliers all the time.
Is it just his imagination or is it growing warmer, too? He should perhaps do some research; not that it melts its box one day. Then they’d really have a problem.
“Ah, Crowley. Great, you can help me out. What does this phrase mean?” Sam, who he’s materialized in front of, asks.
“The bone of the unborn” he reads. “I am assuming you didn’t know that babies having died during their birth was an ingredient, Moose?”
“Who is using babies as an ingredient now?” Dean asks, stepping into the library.
“Hey Crowley, didn’t expect you back so soon”.
He doesn’t sound annoyed, and really, it’s been a while since he visited them last...
A whole of three days, he suddenly realizes.
Oh well.
There’s so much time on his hand these days, and Dean just got a football for the bunker.
Day 90
He appears in the bunker’s shooting range and watches Cas fire another round.
“Bulls-eye, Feathers”.
Cas rears around, gun in his hands.
Crowley raises an eyebrow.
“That won’t work on me, I’m afraid”.
The former angel relaxes.
“Crowley”.
“Thought I’d drop in, see how you were getting by”.
Neither of them mentions he only stopped for dinner yesterday.
“Also, I put the egg back into the box... You should really look into that, it’s getting hotter”.
“Hotter?”
“Yes”.
Cas tilts his head to the side and studies him and for the first time in a long time, he can’t tell what he’s thinking.
He doesn’t tell him about the curious revulsion he feels that’s getting stronger every time he has to face the egg. Must be his imagination. And that look on his face makes him uncomfortable enough.
Day 120
“Crowley” Dean says when they’re about to retire and he’s getting ready to say his goodbye and return to the luxurious hotel he’s currently staying in.
“We cleared this one” he points to a door, “But no loud music between the hours of two and eight am”.
And with that they leave him to... get acquainted with his own room.
Alright then.
It’s plain, simple, comfortable. Nothing like the hotel where he has room service and a huge flat screen.
He moves in immediately.
That night, the egg comes crashing down again.
He could swear it’s a few degrees hotter than the last time.
Day 130
“Crowley. Did you bring a hell hound into the bunker?” Dean asks at breakfast. “Because I could have sworn something licked my hand in the war room.”
“Of course. You know her. Juliet.”
“Juliet... Alright, but why?”
“You gave me a room. I can’t let my girl camp outside when I have a room.”
“Your – you know what, just tell her no chewing on anything, and she’s not allowed on the couch”.
Day 150
He can find nothing that would explain why the egg is becoming hotter every time he picks it up, but at least Cassie knows so someone’s keeping an eye on it when he’s not around.
Not that he’s gone so often. After all, they gave him a room, he might as well use it.
“Good morning – oh, Sheriff Mills. Girls”.
The sheriff looks quite well. Their date certainly did her no harm, he hopes, somewhat taken aback at his own reaction.
From what he can remember of his human life, he’s experiencing something almost like shame.
Before anyone can stop her, the one he thinks is called Claire Novak, Cas’ vessel’s daughter, marches up to him and punches him in the face.
She’s pretty strong for her age.
“Claire!” Jody calls out, clearly worried, and the others quickly move behind her.
Dean seems to be a bit conflicted as to who to shield against whom. It’s almost... touching.
The last thing he wants to do on this fine morning is provoke a fight though, especially since he’s pretty sure he’ll have to deal with the damn egg again soon.
And he did try to kill her, after all.
“I suppose I deserved that” he says mildly.
He ignores Sam’s incredulous stare.
Day 200
The egg’s almost too hot to hold now, but he can’t find a single reason in lore why it should be.
“Crowley, we’ve got a case!” Dean calls out.
He moves to find him in the hallway.
“I’m worried about the egg” he says.
“Cas told us. Don’t worry, we strengthened both the box and the door” Dean says.
He can’t feel any enhanced protection, but Dean knows what he’s talking about.
He shrugs his shoulders and forgets about it.
Day 250
“You can trust anyone in this room” Dean tells the other hunters they met on their newest case.
Of course they immediately look at Crowley. His time on the throne is still well remembered, it seems.
“I don’t know...” the woman begins, slowly. “After all you did, working with a demon...”
Dean snorts.
“Come on guys, do you really think he’d be a member of our team if we didn’t trust him?”
Talking is suddenly difficult.
It’s a strange thing to have, the trust of others.
Day 300
He can actually sleep when he puts his mind to it, and it’s a pleasant way to pass the night. Otherwise, he just waits for the boys to wake up or corrects the mistakes in the Men of Letter’s library or takes Juliet on a walk.
Even the others have got used to having to wake him for breakfast, although they were a little weirded out at the beginning (it’s not his fault he doesn’t need to breathe, and he told himself he wasn’t feeling bad when Dean came to get him and thought he was dead for a second).
So, when a crash wakes him up, he blinks and groans realizing it’s the stupid egg again. Juliet sniffles at the foot of his bed.
He just hopes it didn’t wake up anyone else. Dean is just getting used to a regular sleep schedule, and Cas still has problems drifting off now and then.
Definitely uncomfortably hot now.
Day 365
It’s been a pretty relaxing week – Sheriff Mills even came to visit and was civil to him – and he sighs when he hears the tell-tale thump from the library.
For some reason, he feels Cas’ eyes follow him as he leaves the room.
Also, he really dreads dealing with the egg, now. He must be growing soft after all.
He sighs and leans down to pick it up.
Even without Cas’ text, he would know.
After he told them of Crowley’s worry about the egg, they did their research and there is only one explanation why someone would think the thing was too hot to touch.
And to be fair, he hasn’t considered the demon pure evil since...
Point is, Dean has been waiting for this for a while, so the crash and the curse coming from the store room don’t bother him.
Neither does the sight of Crowley, staring at his burned hand with a shocked expression on his face.
Dean picks up the gloves and the pliers and puts the egg away.
“Don’t touch it just like that again”.
He lightly touches his shoulder.
“Come on, you need that taken care of”.
From their own experience, he knows the burn will be a bitch.
As they walk towards the war room Dean says, “Being good isn’t that bad, you know”.
Crowley doesn’t say anything, but from the corner of his eye, Dean can see a small, pleased smile on his face.