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He was playing fetch with Juliet in the woods behind the bunker when Dean came looking for them.
“Crowley, we got a case in –“
Juliet jumped up to catch the ball.
Considering neither of them could see her, it looked rather funny.
“Huh” Dean said, “She’s getting better every day. In the beginning she’d just devour it.”
“My girl is smart, aren’t you?” Crowley scratched her behind the ears as at treat. “What kind of case?”
“Don’t know yet. People have been dying of an unidentified disease in North Caroline. I know how this sounds, but the symptoms appear to be the same as that of the sweating sickness.”
“The sweating – as in the English sweate? Tudors style?”
Dean nodded. “Yep. All dead within twenty-four hours.”
“But no miracle recoveries as of yet?”
“Nope. Could be a witch.”
“I’ll call Mother, then.”
Dean nodded. “Must be rather an old witch too, if it is. Don’t think anyone younger than... two hundred years would come to think of the sweating sickness of all things.”
“I don’t remember much about it... was a bit before my time.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what books are for. Sammy and Cas are already at it, the little nerds.”
“So you didn’t immediately identify the illness in question?” Crowley raised an eyebrow.
Dean grinned. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Peaches. Juliet!”
As always she immediately trotted to Dean’s side. He reached down to pet her. “Any idea how big she’ll eventually be?”
Crowley shrugged. “Hellhounds really just... keep growing if they aren’t killed.”
“Ah well, we’ll see. Let’s go.”
“The old Sweate? Crowley, that’s old-fashioned even for us!”
“I know, Mother.”
“Old Gobbert – you remember his mill from back in the day? He always thought he’d catch it even though there hadn’t been an outbreak in two hundred years –“
“Yes, Mother, I do remember. He used to get drunk and then ramble through the village.”
“The good old times, ay. But Crowley – this is not to be taken lightly. I remember how scared people were of the Sweat, even though two centuries had passed. No one who’s lived through it should wish it upon someone else.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“And I’ll try and see if I can contact some other witches. Maybe they know something.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and if you should happen to talk to Sheriff Mills, greet her from me. We just had tea the other week.”
He hung up, wondering what they could possibly have talked about.
“Mother is working on it” he told the others, stepping into the war room.
Dean nodded. “Guess we’ll be on our way, then.”
As it turned out, they didn’t need Rowena to find the witch, nor to do any digging.
Instead, the Impala had barely rolled into town when Crowley saw the culprit. “Father Roy” he breathed.
“What?”
“Keep driving” he instructed Dean, fighting down the impulse to duck down. Even if the priest saw him, he wouldn’t recognize him.
Crowley didn’t know him here. They had met in another universe.
Stumbling through the wasteland Michael’s and Lucifer’s price fight had left behind, human, hungry and tired, the single hut had seemed like Paradise incarnate.
If he hadn’t been just resurrected human, if he had had all his wits about himself, he would have asked some obvious questions.
For example why someone who had literally lived through the end of the world would feel the need to isolate himself from human company.
But, as it was, Crowley had seen the light shine through the windows of the building and had decided to knock.
The man who opened it wore a priest cloak and didn’t seem surprised to see him; two other signs that should have tipped him off.
“Hello there. You look like you could use a good meal and a place to sleep.”
In his defence, Crowley was rather unaccustomed to being met with kindness.
“Thank you.”
“Please. It’s the end of the world; we have to help one another to survive, wouldn’t you say?”
His brain came back online when he was served dinner. “No offense, but how do you find meat here?” he asked casually.
“Oh you know, you just have to know a little bit about hunting.”
The grin he gave him was nothing short of predatory.
By now, alarm bells were ringing in his mind. Dean – no, he was trying not to think of them – would have considered Roy a “grade A creep” no doubt.
“I see.”
Despite the hunger gnawing at him, he only took a few bites. It was a good decision; otherwise, his new life would have ended before it began.
Crowley was starting to feel strangely drowsy when he noticed Roy getting up and reaching for something –
He sprang up.
Roy was brandishing a hatchet, grinning at him. “You’ll do just fine; meat for months –“
He might have been human, but he had also been the King of Hell, and survived nearly a decade of knowing the Winchesters.
The ensuing struggle was short, fuelled on Roy’s side by desperation and insanity, while Crowley not only fought for his life, but also felt rather disgusted at the thought that he’d just been served human flesh.
Eventually, he managed to wrench the hatchet out of Roy’s grasp.
“How?” he demanded, looking up at him.
“I’m Crowley. It’s how I roll.”
“Please” he begged, “Please, I promise I won’t do it any more –“
Crowley felt his now-human heart beat wildly in his chest and knew that any killing from now on would be followed by remorse.
He slit Roy’s throat.
Sometimes it was just worth it.
A week later, when he stumbled upon the camp that had taken in Mary as well, it was surprisingly this slaughter of a serial killer that got him into their good graces. When Bobby was questioning him, he mentioned his little problem.
He raised an eyebrow. “You survived Roy?”
“I killed Roy.”
He was taken in immediately.
“Let me repeat that. Your very first day as a human, you murdered a serial killer?”
“It was self defence.” Roy’s death had brought him far less sleepless nights than anything he had done as demon.
Dean hummed. “Doesn’t mean he has to be one hear as well, though.”
“It’s...” he shook his head. “It’s not quite like that. The basic... settings of everyone I met were pretty much identical to those in our world. Bobby was just the same loveable curmudgeon he was back here, and from what he told me about Mary, she was the same kind of hunter she happened to be in our world.”
“Hm. Is killing people by quick illness instead of eating them a step up or down the ladder?” Dean asked.
“Squirrel, I would say both are offenses that would ensure you ended up in Hell.”
“Regardless” Sam interjected, “We should make sure we have the right man before we do anything against him.”
“A priest who’s also a witch” Cas said. “A rather interesting combination.”
“Especially if you add Hannibal Lecter into the mix” Crowley answered. “But yes, I agree, we should probably not judge him too hastily.”
Dean turned to him, grinning. “I have an idea.”
And somehow, he knew exactly what that idea was.
Sam had had his choice of words to say on the matter of course, while Cas had just huffed and shaken his head.
Their former angel friend still wasn’t the best at impersonating others, although he did make a good FBI agent these days.
And so Dean and Crowley ended up calling at Roy’s dressed as priests who were just passing through.
“You saved me from writing a rather dreary sermon – Bless their hearts, some people are too specific when it comes to their wedding.”
He seemed perfectly friendly and welcoming, but then that had been the case in the other world too.
Crowley caught Dean’s eyes.
Soon enough, the hunter excused himself to go to the bathroom.
“Say, you seem familiar. Are you sure I haven’t seen you before?” Roy asked casually.
“I don’t think so” he replied simply.
He shrugged. “Maybe in another life.”
The statement was too accurate for Crowley’s liking, even though the man could know nothing. No, it was remembering; remembering these first few days as a human with nothing but hunger and pain and confusion, and thinking that he’d never see the boys again.
Dean returned and Crowley knew immediately that he’d been right. They said their goodbyes soon afterwards.
“Don’t know much about priests, but I am guessing most of them don’t keep a shrine for the powers of Darkness in their bedroom.”
“You would be surprised. I have sold many of them deals over the centuries.”
“Don’t doubt it, but I don’t think we got a demon involved. Just a priest become witch become serial killer.”
Only it got a little more complicated than that, because Dean began to feel ill soon after they had returned to the motel.
“Dean” Sam said immediately, “Is it –“
“I think so. Damn it. Must have realized something was the matter with us...” Dean mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“No matter how tired you get, you can’t fall asleep” Crowley said immediately, “It was thought lethal at the time, if I remember.”
“And you need to sweat it out” Cas said, unflappable as always, but Crowley could tell that underneath the surface he was panicking just as much as him and Sam.
“I’ll call Rowena.”
She picked up at the third ring, thank God.
“Mother, Dean is sick. We need a way to break this spell now.”
For a few seconds, she didn’t answer, and suddenly he found himself waiting for a quip how she could do very well without Dean Winchester in her life, or that she wasn’t beholden to them, like there would have been before – before.
Instead, she said, “I’ll come as quickly as I can. Don’t worry, we’ll get him sorted out.”
She hung up and Crowley was left with the unfamiliar feeling that she had been trying to comfort him.
Dean was getting worse by the minute.
Cas, while trying his best, was clearly fretting because he could no longer heal him.
Crowley could sympathize. Once upon a time, he would have snapped his fingers and transported his mother here.
She came soon enough, four rather miserable hours later, with them trying to do research while keeping Dean conscious.
“Hello boys –“
“That’s my line” Crowley mumbled. She ignored him, naturally.
“Oh dear. He looks rather poorly. Alright, I need to read this spell, give me a few minutes.”
She did indeed work remarkably quickly. “The witch who cast the spell has to die for it to unravel, it seems.”
“That won’t be a problem” Crowley said lightly. He didn’t very much like anyone going after a member of their team.
She waved towards the door. “Just go. I’ll look after him.”
When they hesitated for a moment, a strange expression crossed her face. “You boys cared for me when I was too weak to walk. He’s safe with me.”
They left.
They always kept enough witch-killing bullets in the booth of the Impala. That wasn’t the problem.
No, the problem was that none of them had considered that Roy might use an old tracking spell on them.
In their defence, it was old. Older than Crowley, for one thing. Demon years included.
And so Roy was waiting for them.
Crowley was really getting tired of being thrown around, especially at walls.
“Thought you would immediately come if I dropped a little spell on your friend. Rather special, isn’t he?”
Crowley rolled his eyes. What was it with this man and gleefully trying to taunt him?
Thankfully, a well-timed bullet shot by Cas did him in when he opened his mouth again.
“Good shot” Sam breathed.
Crowley got a text.
Dean is doing fine. Mother.
“Everything’s alright” he announced.
And for that evening, Rowena staying for dinner, everything was.