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It happens in the blink of an eye, or even faster. Dean’s not even completely aware what’s happening, he only knows that Crowley is talking to Lucifer — rather, taunting him — but there’s something nudging his mind, something familiar and strange and bad but good, and it’s altogether way too confusing on an already exhausting day. Then suddenly there’s a hint of a voice, sad, resigned, that says, Either both of us or just him, I get it, and then it... goes away. No, it’s moving away, whatever it is, and Dean suddenly can’t stand the thought, because even if he doesn’t know what it is, he knows it’s important, he knows it’s been with him in the past, and something in him pulls—
Crowley stabs himself and Dean can only stare. The King is dead. The King stabbed himself for them.
Not so fast, Squirrel.
Crowley. That was Crowley. He reels around but there’s no one there, and Cas is moving towards Lucifer, and Dean calls out his name, but Sam is dragging him away –
How many times do I have to save you?
Suddenly, he finds the strength— rather, no, it’s not him, it’s something else, the something he held back, that’s fast enough and it wrenches him out of Sam’s grasp and makes him go after Cas, actually managing to drag him away and through the portal, his brother following him, obviously confused.
Dean’s baffled when Cas turns on him the second they’re through.
“Let go of him!”
Let go? Let go of what?
“Sorry, Feathers, he invited me in. Insisted on it, practically. Believe it or not, I would have had a hard time to get away.”
Crowley.
That’s Crowley in his noggin. Dear God, Crowley’s alive and possessing him.
It’s not possession if you wanted me to.
Of course it is! And I didn’t know what was happening!
I see.
And there it is again, the sadness, the resignation to his fate that made Dean allow him in, and he swallows.
Crowley, if you’d told me beforehand... of course.
It’s a rather big confession, that he’d rather have saved the King than the poor schmuck he was possessing, but who cares. Certainly not Dean.
Really?
Now he sounds surprised.
You’re the one inside me. You should be able to tell if I was lying or not.
He could swear that Crowley... mind-chuckles at that. Is that even possible? He has no freaking idea, but he’s also carrying a centuries-old demon around with him, so who cares.
I can’t believe you actually dragged that literary agent around for years.
It’s actually pretty draining, killing off a meat suit from within, and I kept him under at all times. We had a deal, and this was his way of getting out of Hell for a few more years. He knew he had to go when I wanted him to.
That’s seriously screwed up, but in a way, it’s clever too.
Thank you.
Keep out of my thoughts.
But they’re so intriguing.
Dean only realizes that conversation took place within seconds when Sam asks, “What the hell? Crowley, get out of Dean this instant!”
“I am going to, I just want to— “
And then Crowley in Dean’s body drags Cas out of the way again, just in time for Lucifer to show up. If Crowley wasn’t there, Cas would be dead now. The realization triggers something in Dean. Suddenly he and Crowley are united in purpose, and somehow they both have control over his body. He grinds his teeth and balls his hands into fists.
He could control my old meat suit. Hated that.
I bet.
“Crowley. Didn’t you just kill yourself in front of me? I guess I’ll have to make sure this time...”
“Not so fast.”
It’s Dean who speaks.
Crowley. He isn’t controlling this body.
Absolutely correct, Dean.
I know this sounds crazy and desperate, but… things are a little weird right now, right? Any possible way Lucifer is weaker because of this brush between universes? There's one where he's dead, after all. What I am saying is, what if a normal angel blade could -
I understand perfectly. It’s probably the most reckless thing I’ve ever done, but it can’t hurt to try.
You wanted to off yourself five minutes ago.
Fair enough, here goes nothing, then.
Faster than he has ever moved before, he turns and takes the angel blade out of Cas’ hand, charging towards Lucifer, who’s too surprised to react. He hears Mom calling his name, but he’s too busy burying the blade in Lucifer’s chest once and for all. Bright light implodes from the wound, but maybe because of Crowley, he can see, and he watches the devil die, his wings burning into the ground. He takes a deep breath as the portal closes in front of them.
That was fun. We should do it more often.
Not a chance.
Yet, it is rather satisfying contemplating Lucifer’s corpse.
“What? You’re possessing my son?”
Dean and Crowley turn around. “Far from it. Your son is giving me a ride, that’s all.”
“Really, Mom” Dean says; he can clearly hear the differences between him and Crowley using his voice, and he hopes the others do as well. Man, is it weird to hear himself sound so posh. “Don’t worry about it; we’re fine for the time being.”
Or not.
Light shines through the windows of the cabin.
With a blink, Dean and Crowley are inside.
Woah. Warn a guy before you start beaming me around.
Just doing what I have to.
Dean rolls his eyes.
And there’s Satan Junior, Jack, whatever. The creepy smile doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.
“A human and a demon working together? Isn’t that neat! But then, I have my experience. Remember what I did to Cassie? He actually believed me! He thought I would bring paradise!”
He laughs.
Dean grips Cas’ blade even harder.
Just as the others arrive, Jack continues, “As if I would leave anyone his free will, that was the worst thing God ever came up with.”
Dean only hears Cas’ shocked gasp and then he’s off, all but flying through the room.
It’s okay Squirrel, I got this.
And so he allows Crowley to take over for a moment.
That’s all he needs to say “Bye baby devil” and almost slice Jack’s head off.
“Well,” he says when all is over and done with, “Crisis averted and we’re still alive. That’s something.”
Sorry about your mother though, Dean remembers to tell him.
Like I said, I would have ended up killing her anyway.
And yet there is something like grief there too, Dean can feel it.
“Yes,” says Sam. “Look, Crowley, it’s not that I’m not thankful, but could you please leave my brother now? It’s kind of creepy.”
“He can stay until we find a suitable meat suit. Preferably empty and not yet rotting.”
“Are you sure?” Mom asks, “Is the demon making you say that?”
“Cas.” He turned to his best friend. “You can tell, can’t you?”
He reaches out and squeezes his obviously shell-shocked friend’s shoulder. “Cas?”
He looks up and right into Dean’s eyes. He blinks. One, two, three times.
That’s what it’s like being stared at so intently. And I’m the creepy one?
Crowley, not yet. Poor guy’s traumatized.
What do you think I am? How much self-loathing can you fit in—
“Cas. I know this is hard, but please— “
“Dean,” he breathes.
Dean beams. “Yep. All me.”
“Not only you. I can see Crowley too.”
And what a sight I must be.
He ignores Crowley for now to hug Cas.
“No harm done,” he mutters. “Let’s go home.”
Once they’re in the impala, he actually feels Crowley yearning for something. It takes him a moment to get.
You wanna drive?
Don’t think you’d let me –
Be my guest. We’re all exhausted.
And so he allows Crowley to take the wheel. Literally.
After they’ve been driving a while in silence, Sam asks, “What kind of meat suit are we looking for, anyway?”
“Probably something like his old one. I imagine he got used to it.”
You bastard , he says, but without heat in it.
“Very funny Crowley,” Sam says. “I can hear the British drawl, you know.”
“Always worth a try.”
It really is something of a relief that he doesn’t have to drive after all of this, if he’s being honest.
They’re all rather done for, and decide to go to bed early once they arrive at the bunker. It means he’ll be up before dawn, but who cares.
He still wakes up feeling remarkably well-rested. He learns why when he looks at his alarm.
“Eight hours!?”
You were getting restless halfway through, but I decided to keep you under. You needed your rest.
That’s... kind of touching in a really weird way, but then it’s Crowley. He should feel lucky that Crowley didn’t get up to any shenanigans.
I was in need of rest as well.
How he manages to sound sarcastic without a mouth, Dean has no idea.
Anyway, I’m, starving.
You’re always starving.
That might be true , he says with that same weird mind-chuckle Crowley used yesterday.
As they walk to the kitchen, Dean asks, And, you got any precise wishes for your new meat suit?
Younger.
It’s so sudden that Dean, who has the control over his legs at the moment, stumbles.
Younger? Why? You always seemed rather happy with the literary agent.
Crowley is silent.
Dean decides not to ask and goes to get breakfast. Mom is the only one already up; even Sam decided to sleep in, it seems.
“Dean! Did you sleep alright?” she asks.
Dean nods. “Yeah, thanks to Crowley. Didn’t get eight hours in years before tonight.”
Her eyes narrow. Dean just shakes his head, tired of it all. “Come on, Mom. You know it’s me.”
She sighs. “I know. It’s just... I’m worried.”
He could point out that she wasn’t that worried when she went and hooked up with the Brits, but he won’t.
You are much too forgiving.
Shut up Crowley.
“Mom— “ he begins, unsure what to say when she suddenly says, “Crowley, can you let us have a moment, please?”
“Sure thing, Mummy. I’ll listen to Squirrel’s musical library in here.”
And with that, Crowley’s silent for once.
Mom takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Dean.”
“What for? You were under— “
“No, not that, although God knows I made enough mistakes. I am apologizing to you. You shouldn’t have had to go through all of this. You should never have had to raise your brother by yourself. You should have had the chance at a normal life.”
“I know you want us to have that. But this life? It ain’t bad.”
“I see that now. And I should have made more of an effort too. I’m so sorry, Dean.”
And she hugs him. He can only reciprocate, tears burning behind his eyes. No one ever told him they were sorry just for him.
When she steps back, he clears his throat. “Can Crowley come back out, now? I don’t want to know what he’s doing in there.”
You’re no fun, Squirrel.
He actually smiles when he hears Crowley’s voice.
Eventually the others stumble into the kitchen, and everything feels surprisingly domestic, even with a demon borrowing his voice now and then. That afternoon, Dean goes to get a beer; but when he tries to grab it, his arm doesn’t obey.
“What the – “
It’s not even three pm, Dean. Pace yourself.
And whether he likes it or not, he has to wait until five to get one damn beer.
They start bickering over his choice of food too. Three days in, Dean caves and orders a damn salad as a side so Crowley will stop complaining. Sam wisely chooses to say nothing.
Life goes on. For once, the world isn’t ending and they have time to kind of settle down. Dean gets used to the voice in his head. And then, one night, it’s not just a voice anymore.
He knows he’s dreaming, but feels like he’s wide awake. He’s sitting in a bar, Crowley next to him in his old meat suit. God, it does it feel good to see him.
“What’s all this?” he asks.
The demon shrugs. “I was bored. Decided we might as well have a little fun.”
Dean nods. “How are you holding up?”
“Quite frankly, I’d rather have my own body, but this works for now.”
Dean notices the word “body” but doesn’t comment on it.
“What about you?” Crowley asks.
“I’m good. Hey, at least the demon who’s possessing me isn’t killing anyone.”
“What a high bar. I will have to be careful.”
“Whatever. Hey, can you— “
Drinks appear in front of them. “Thanks.”
They are silent.
Eventually, Crowley says, sounding as smooth as ever, “I didn’t expect to find nothing.”
Dean looks at him. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no disgust, or even fear.”
The penny drops.
“Dude, you’ve been checking how I feel about you?”
In fact he would be surprised if Crowley hadn’t.
“I have a lot of time on my hands.”
“Crowley,” Dean finally says, “did you just look for negative emotions? No mixed or positive ones?”
Crowley blinks, his face blank. Simultaneously, they look away, unsure what to say.
Dean eventually settles on, ”Anything fun we can do around here?”
For a second, Crowley looks almost upset, but then a pole and a stripper appear. She’s hot, but Dean can only roll his eyes and shake his head. “I meant like a pool table, come on.”
Before he can blink, the stripper’s gone and he and Crowley are playing.
“You can pray to Feathers, if you want. He can join us.”
Dean thinks about it, but decides against it for now. “You know what? Let’s do it tomorrow night.”
Crowley nods.
“Say,” Dean starts a while later, “I’ve been wondering... why did you need my permission to begin with? You are a demon. You could have just possessed me.”
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” Crowley answers, shaking his head. “You’ve never realized how strong you are. I would never have been able to get through if you hadn’t drawn me in.”
Despite spending his night talking to Crowley, he still wakes up as refreshed as always now. The next night, he prays to Cas, who immediately appears and visibly relaxes when he sees them just hanging out.
“I thought something was attacking you— “
“Nah, Cas. We’re just having a bit of fun, and I thought you’d like to join.”
He beams. And just like that, Dean spends his night hanging out with the best friends he’s ever made.
One day on a case, they stumble across a basilisk. It’s an old sort of dragon, or at least that’s what Dean remembers, until Crowley opens the gate and his brain is flooded with more lore than he thought existed.
Crowley.
What? Don’t you need to know this?
Yeah, but—
Whatever. He decides to roll with it, and it is pretty neat to know that a basilisk can only be killed during a full moon with a stone taken from a graveyard.
Really, after three months, Dean almost comes to accept their state as how things are going to be from now on. Brain-dead or very recently deceased John Does with no family to claim them are just hard to come by. He barely even notices anymore that this isn’t normal. Even Mom greets both him and Crowley when he enters a room.
And then there’s a case involving a Trickster. Not even Cas expects them to stumble across Gabriel in the end.
“Little bro! Look at you and— Dean, do you know you have a house guest?”
Both he and Crowley roll their eyes.
Please tell me I can stab him.
I think it would upset Cas.
Gabriel raises his hands. “Say, I got an idea!”
“Don’t even think of going after Crowley,” Dean warns him.
“Calm down, Ken doll. I was thinking more of something like this.”
Gabriel snaps his fingers. What appears is something that looks very much like Crowley’s old meat suit, only a few years younger — about mid- to late thirties, Dean would say.
“No soul, no trouble. Just an empty vessel to use. And because it wasn’t technically born human, no one will be able to exorcise the former king. Now what do you say? No harm no foul and I just go on my merry way?”
There’s only one answer, really.
A few minutes later, Crowley is standing among them for the first time in months, and Dean suddenly feels strangely lonely.
He gets used to it. He only thinks he’ll miss the nights he, Cas and Crowley spent together. A little. But after he goes to sleep, Cas and Crowley appear in his dream.
“Is that— “
“It’s us,” Cas confirms. “I brought Crowley with me because he annoyed me.”
“Doesn’t that sound just like him,” Dean comments. “How’s the new meat suit?”
“Better than I could have hoped for. Any of you up for a game of foosball?”
It seems this is his life now. Still confused why he doesn’t get an answer when he asks a question in his head, his brain full of lore that Crowley left there, his nights spent with a demon and angel bickering next to him. Listening to them, he decides he couldn’t have asked for a better fate.