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We're very glad that you could join us again, Dean. [ Crowley clasps his hands together with a very smug grin on his face. ] Of course, this time we're both on the same side.

Soooo, perhaps I can help break you in, and let you at what tortured souls we've got left to torture.

[The mark still burns on his arm, stronger now than even. He turns his head toward Crowley, the corner of his lip curling up and his expression one of ease.]

I bet you are. Nothing like having the prized pony in the race, huh? [He looks down at his own hand which is still clutching the handle of the first blade.] Would be a shame to leave her to waste. She's singing for some more blood.

[ Sam doesn't hear Dean come in. He's still sitting at the bunker table, nursing his whiskey. A put-out match is at his feet, covered by dust and herbs and a cracked bowl. He wanted to summon Crowley. He wanted to make the mistake they always made, wanted to beg and punch and claw until he got his big brother back.

He couldn't. He remembered how desolate he felt when he wasn't allowed to die, remembered the rain of blood and bodies that followed because Dean saved him. Dean wanted to die. In the end, he threw the summoning ritual materials away and scrubbed away the sigil. He wants to scream and spill enough blood from others and himself, anything to get his brother back. But he couldn't deny his brother peace. He couldn't.

But that doesn't mean he has to take his time following his brother into the abyss. He doesn't know how he'll do it, or when. Right now, he can't summon the energy to even move. Breathing even hurts. Maybe if he just keeps sitting here, he'll just whither away and die on his own. ]

[ Crowley loves hearing those words coming from Dean, the fact he came out on top is a blessing. With Heaven still in shambles, Crowley is going to take full advantage of the opening to have himself a load of fun.

He laughs. ] I had to put down a few of Abbadon's followers, and I could use a few new loyal demons. And, after all the bonding we did, you seemed like a logical choice.

And, if you want to know, we've got plenty of nice openings for a ma--- er, demon of your caliber. But, we'll do that later; let us go string someone up on the racks. [ Crowley snaps his fingers, and the two find themselves in a room that resembles an old dungeon. There is no detail left untouched, and Crowley motions his hands out to the tools and the poor soul on the rack. ]

Don't worry about hurting him too much, we'll fix him up, and let him suffer again later on.

[Now would be the proper time to strike. With no one trying to take the title of king of hell from Crowley he's in the free and clear. And now he has his very own knight to defend his owner. The hunter sneers, holding his hand out and balancing the but of the blade on his open palm.]

Come on, starlord. You and I both know any demons you may have picked up would of been slaughtered by me in the long run. I was your best choice.

[When the scenery changes Dean catches the blade once again, looking around in interest. He whistles, ignoring the whimpering of the soul tied to the rack, to go investigate the table of tools at his disposal. He grins, lifting his gaze up to Crowley.]

Quiet the collection we got here. Memory of good times. You sure do know how to wine and dine a gal, boss.

Edited 2014-05-23 03:32 (UTC)

[ Oh man oh man. Ruby's getting a kick out of this sight. ]

Who's the demon bitch now, then? [ She says with a smirk, her eyes flicking to black. ]

We will fix this.

[He didn't save Dean from the rack for this to happen.]

[Yep. This is a whole new level of "fucked up" right here. Not touching it with a stick would be prudent.]

Don't forget to tell us how it goes in your new job role.

You should keep those regrets. Those eyes don't suit you. Mutation?

Still you.

[Dean replies, glancing over his own hands and flexing them. He feels powerful. Raw. Deadly.]

Just because we shop at the same store doesn't make us the same person, princess.

[There's a long whistle that interrupts Sam in the middle of his brooding. Dean saunters out from the hall way in to the library where his brother is trying to drown his sorrows. He doesn't even notice Sam's reaction as he pushes out a chair and opts to sit up on the table, just near Sam, and rest his feet on the chair. He leans back, his hands holding him up on the table as he ticks a brow up.

All those spilled materials, the wasted spell, and Dean smirks.]

Wow-wee Sammy. After everything I've done for you and you weren't gonna bring me back to life? Cold, man. Cold.

Cas, There ain't nothing broken.

[He points to the mark of Cain in his arm. He was finally strong, a knight of hell. He matches that darkness he felt since Cas pulled him from hell.]

The way things were going I was gonna end up here one way or another.

Aw Gabe, your concern is touching.

[Totally fucked up. Dean knows it.]

You'll be the first to know.

Not so much.

[Dean replies, his eyes flicking back to their green.]

Demonic essence.

My name has three syllables in it, kiddo.

[Extremely fucked up.]

Was that a thinly veiled attempt at a threat?

...Hell, that'll make asking you out for drinks awkward.

Hey sweetheart, Demons have the most fun. You'd enjoy yourself way more than with sore old grumpy me.

That- that's actually a really good point.

What, I get new contacts and all the sudden I lose buddy privileges?

[He tuts, wagging his finger back and forth.]

For shame, Gabriel. For shame.

Oh come on, I only just got the job as Knight of hell. Give me a couple of days to enjoy it before we start going at each others throats.

See? Alls well that ends well.

Let me think. New contacts, demonic, butcher..... That's enough to knock your off my Christmas card list. And don't even think of asking for an egg at Easter.

Bucko, you would never be able to reach my throat. Never, in a million years. Oooh, I'd like to see you try though. That would be one skirmish you don't walk away from.

Long as you still have that car of yours. This sounds like a really bad idea on paper, but hell, I bet a demon responds more or less the same to a high-yield laser rifle as almost everything else.