Chapter Text
Crowley looked down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid of his delicious tasting Craig. He stood inside the devil’s trap so nonchalantly any on looker wouldn't think that he was trapped inside the minimal space he was granted. But his trapper was Bobby Singer, and he knew that he wouldn’t be contained for long. Crowley looked up and let out a long sigh, eyes finally meeting Bobby’s again.
”This is without doubt the stupidist plan you've ever had.” Crowley drawled, voice low but sounding humoured all the same. Bobby's body sagged in resignation.
His plan.
Dean had gone missing. Sam and himself had been looking for him for a month now. And then two days ago, he got a text from Sam.
I found him Bobby. He’s at that warehouse we looked at. I’m going to get him. It would be best if you stayed out of this.
And then of course, nothing else. Not a peep. Bobby was beyond worried. Stay out of it? Why the sudden change of heart? The both of them had been so ardently investigating Dean’s disappearance that something musn’t be right for Sam to tell Bobby to stay out of it. He couldn't sleep. He’d been awake for three days. What had those boys gotten themselves into this time? But his priority wasn't to know. Bobby’s priority was to find those boys, and fast before anything could happen to them.
He could admit his plan may be rash, he had been up for three days now surviving on coffee to keep him alert and awake enough to form some sort of rescue/attack mission. He would stock up on guns and draw the attention of their foes with a noisy attack while Crowley would be stealthy and take out as many as he could. This meant the fight would be condensed in one direction while they were quickly picked off from the behind without even knowing it.
“Of course I'm in.” Bobby’s eyes snapped back up to Crowley at these words after the lengthy pause. It was hard to make out what Crowley’s face looked like in the darkness of the room, with only the desk lamp behind Bobby, dimly lighting the room.
“Y-You will?” Bobby asked in shock. He straightened up. He’d figured he’d have asked Crowley to help and be a part of the plan. Crowley would say no and then Bobby would persuade him somehow. He hadn’t thought how he would have persuaded the demon (he hadn’t thought that far ahead), but he’d thought with solid conviction that it would definitely come to that, rather than Crowley accepting almost instantly.
Crowley shifted from one hip to the other. He raised the glass to his lips but paused.
“Of course I will darling.” His voice was like smoke through the air, familiar to Bobby like a comfort, soothing him. He felt like someone had just pulled weight from his shoulders knowing that Crowley was actually helping him. It slipped under his radar that he’d just been called darling by the king of hell.
“Why?” He blurted out, not being able to help it as Crowley took a sip.
“Why wouldn't I Bobby? I’m hurt that you think of me so lowly.” Crowley responded, lowering the glass and raising a hand to his heart in mock offense. His tongue shot out and ran along his bottom lip, capturing any stray liquor that remained as he looked down at his now empty glass.
“I mean,” Bobby gave a soft chuckle. “Sam’s tried to kill you, I’ve tried to kill you, Dean’s threatened to kill you. Why would you want to help me-us?” He quickly corrected. Bobby couldn’t help the words tumbling out. He felt delirious, sleep deprived. This whole encounter felt like a dream and Crowley hidden in the dark with his voice traveling over the room to Bobby like shadows wasn’t helping.
“Well Bobby.” Crowley said slowly. Bobby could faintly see that his face was facing his again. He could feel Crowley’s stare and felt goosebumps raise on his forearms. Crowley slowly swaggered forward as far as he could until he reached the brim of the devil’s trap. “It’s not so much for Beavus and Butthead, but rather for you. I couldn't have you running off and getting yourself killed with this idiotic plan of yours.”
Bobby felt the back of his neck grow hot and raised a hand to gingerly rub the nape of his neck.
“I’m not that much of an idiot.” He muttered tiredly and he heard Crowley chuckle.
Leaning back on the desk he reached around and found the pocket knife and flicked it open. Turning back around he walked forward, closer and closer to Crowley who watched with every step and not stepping back when Bobby came to a stop in front of him. Crowley looked up at Bobby and into the shadow cast over his eyes by his cap that so stubbornly always seemed to be on his head. Bobby went down and Crowley’s eyes followed as the hunter began to scratch off the paint on the ground to the devil’s trap. Bobby was thankful for the darkness of the room, otherwise Crowley would have seen the blush that rose to his cheeks for some reason. Maybe it was just the way Crowley watched him. Either way he was glad. However something in the back of his head told Bobby that Crowley knew he was blushing regardless of the lighting.
Bobby stood up quickly only to stagger to the side as he felt his world tilting sideways, a numbing feeling overtaking his body as his vision began to black out. He blinked rapidly, fighting off fainting. He could stay awake a little more. Besides, he wanted to save himself the embarrassment of passing out in front of Crowley.
The fainting stopped, blackness retreating in defeat from Bobby’s eyes. He felt a strong grip on his side and realised someone was under his arm supporting his weight with an arm wrapped securely around his torso and the other holding his arm over their shoulder. He looked down to see Crowley looking back up at him.
“Christ Robert you prat, when was the last time you slept?” He huffed out. Bobby opened his mouth to speak but Crowley cut him off. “Actually, don’t answer that, knowing you, you’ve neglected once again to take care of yourself.”
“Hey what’s that supposed to mean.” Bobby snapped back. There was a sudden whoosh around him and then Bobby fell back onto the familiar feeling of his mattress. He shot up and looked to see he was in his bedroom in his bed with Crowley at his side.
He looked out of place as he usually did with pale skin and dressed in a fine black suit. But there was something about him that looked mundane as he lay on the bed next to Bobby, fingers intertwined together resting over his belly with his legs crossed. A stray piece of moonlight shone through a gap in his curtains directly onto Crowley’s face. Crowley looked up at the ceiling with a bored expression.
“What are you doing? Now isn’t the time for mucking around, we need to go.” Bobby growled in annoyance. The demon rolled his eyes and gave a snort.
“You’re mad. You’re fainting from exhaustion and you think you can pull off a rescue mission?” Crowley laughed and grinned broadly, turning his head to face Bobby, white teeth shining and glinting in the pale light.
Bobby felt conflicted. Crowley was right but he couldn’t just leave the boys for yet another day. He felt torn in what to do and Crowley sensed this. Quickly he rolled on his side and placed a hand on Bobby’s chest and pushed him back gently with each word until Bobby felt his back resting on his bed and head on his pillow.
“Just sleep. I’ll deal with this. Everything will be solved in the morning.” With each word, Bobby seemed to be fading into unconsciousness. As if Crowley’s words were magically lulling him to sleep. Magic. Realisation shot through him and he opened his mouth to protest but Crowley cut him off. “Sleep.” He commanded.
Bobby fell instantly into a deep sleep.