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Finishing the whiskey, you’ve pushed the glass from you. The jukebox at the far end of the bar was spitting some old song you barely knew. All the bars played it, but you’ve never quite grasped the words.
You were always far too busy for that, never having enough time to just rest and have a day completely off. Hunter’s ears were always listening and yours used to be really good at their job, finding you one case after another.
“Hello, love.”
After a second thought, you waved on the barman to fill the glass once more. It was just that type of a night.
“You know, all those years I had your voice come up in my nightmares, waking me up in the middle of the night with a gun ready to fire - and now I really want to say that I’ve missed it?” you raised your head, facing the King of Hell sitting to your right.
“I’m touched.”
Downing the drink you already regreted ordering it. You used to drink a lot, but those few years far from hunter’s life weakened you. Your liver was probably hating you now.
“You don’t look well, love,” Crowley pointed out carefully, not meeting your eyes.
“Do you know one hunter who does?”
“You left this life, as far as I remember.”
“Guess that wasn’t such a bright idea,” shrugging, you tried to sound normal, but your words were colored with exhaust. “No one really leaves for good, huh.”
“At the time, you were pretty excited about it.”
“At the time, I was also excited over next Gummybears movie, you know. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Crowley surprised you with laugh. It was such an abstract sound, so different from those years you were exchanging remarks, making deals you’ve always regretted afterwards, or tracking him down and kidnapping him that one time with the Winchesters.
“So, this is what we are now, huh?” you asked into the air, nostalgia coloring your voice.
“We can be whatever you wish to be,” Crowley pointed out. “We don’t have any deals or old wounds to bring to light after all those years. Carte blanche.”
“Then why do I feel like nothing has changed at all?” you frowned, pressing a hand to your face. “Like the time I’ve managed to spend free of this mess, blind to any supernatural signs, was just a short dream that’s already fading away and could never be the truth?”
Much to your surprise, Crowley awkwardly patted your shoulder, “It will pass. Feelings can be messy, but they do fade away.”
“I wish there was a quicker way to get them out my head.”
Crowley pointed to your empty glass.
“One that wouldn’t resolve in a hangover, Crowley.”
“There are many ways of getting rid of that ridiculous problem, darling.”
“And how many would you hand over to me?”
“Only one, but it would work immediately,” he replied with a smug smile.
“The last thing I need is a deal with you,” you growled with annoyance.
“I never said a thing about a deal,” he pointed out, his voice colored thick with offence, although he might as well be acting. You never knew with demons.
“Crowley, I’ve known you for what, over 10 years? You never make an offer without anything in it for you. What do you want?”
The demon seemed to think about your words for a moment, a shadow of a smile ghosting on his lips, but that may have been caused by the poor lightning. There was something nostalgic hiding in his eyes. Maybe he felt the oddity of your meeting too?
You almost missed the years spent tracking him or arguing over people’s souls and contracts. At the time, it didn’t seem all that much fun, and people’s lives were at stake each and every time. Sometimes you won, other you didn’t, feeling guilty and weak, wishing for your life to change and free you of guilt. And you finally got the chance.
Only, you never thought the cost of coming back would require a tragedy. The Winchesters had warned you, but you used to be certain the change would last forever, that you would never come back here, to this side of the coin.
You ordered another shot.
“To coming back on the old trash,” you raised it.
“To the dreams,” Crowley tapped it with his Scotch.