Crowley my favorite demon from Supernatural
The King"My dear, would you like a drink?" He asked, his voice sends chills down my back. I've never really cared for a Scottish accent but him. He is different. I look at him and nod. He smiled, "Good, I'd hate to share this with anyone but you," He gets two glasses, pours the burgundy color liquid in each glass. He offers one to me, I take it. He then snaps his fingers and the fireplace lights up. As the flames start to warm the room on this chilly fall night, we sit on the floral couch in silence. He looks at me. "Now love, what's your name?"
"_______" I say nervously.
"What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman," I look at him, blush and look at the buttons on my coat, and examine the threads like they were the most important thing in the world. I always do that when I'm nervous. He put his hand under my chin and tilted my head up so he could see my face. "Darling, you shouldn't look down. Then I can't see your beautiful face." I smile and blush again. For the King of Hell, he
Reunion"Cas?" Asked Dean looking around as the beasts started closing in on him, Dean looked around more hoping to find his crazed friend in a trench coat. "Cas?!" Yelled Dean again hoping for an answer. An eariee silence. The only noises Dean could hear were the low grumbles of the beasts, and the crunching of twigs and leaves.
"Cas! Where are you?!" Still nothing, Dean runs his hand through his hair. "Goddamnit..."
"Well hello Dean Long time no see " Came a voice behind Dean. Dean looked around seeing the beasts back away. He turned to the voice. The man is slender, but tall, his hair is a light brownish color, but his eyes. Dean knew those eyes anywhere. Those eyes he came to fear and hate. Eyes that he saw faded as the life was drained out of them. Now those same eyes are staring at him. He thought he'd never see those hellish, yellow eyes ever again. Dean tried to speak, but all he could mutter was.
"Like I said, long time no see," Mocked Azazel who was now circling Dea
Have a Little Heart"Dean We shouldn't be here. We should be taking care of that monster." Castiel announced
"Cas, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm human. I need food, sleep and " Dean looked past Cas as he saw two young women " And some girls" Dean got up.
"We don't have time for this Dean." Objected Cas.
Dean looked back at Cas. "Don't worry; I'll hook you up with the other." Dean left.
"Dean!" Cas frowned.
Dean walked over to the two young girls. One girl had brown eyes, long brown hair, she was about five feet and three inches tall. She was wearing a red hoodie, blue jeans and black boots. She was talking to the other girl. The other girl has brown eyes as well, medium length red hair, she was about five feet and six inches tall. She was wearing a black shirt, blue jeans, and brown boots.
Dean leaned on the bar between the two. "Hello ladies," Dean smiled. "You two have a name?"
"I'm Nicole, and this is Ellie," Introduced the red-head she continued. "And you are?"
I want to try"You can't save everyone my friend. Though you try"
- You told me that I can't save everyone. Well maybe... but, Cas, I'm not gonna stop trying. Because that's who I am. I'm an idiot, that's all I know, all I can do. It's my job, and even if it's hard - damn it's freaking hard - but it's my life Cas. I'm an idiot and I'm freaking naive. So I'll never stop trying and never stop hoping to fix everything.
They stay silent for a moment, looking at each other, a sad shadow in Dean's eyes, a familiar heartbroken expression in Castiel's face.
-Dean. You're certainly not an idiot. You are by far the best man I know. And hope is... is a good thing. Dean I... I wish I could help you.
Castiel takes a deep breath looking away for a second. Then fix his eyes back to Dean's, an odd worry in their deep blue. And his next words make Dean choke, wide-eyed.
- I love you Dean Winchester. I wish I could make you happy.
But as soon as he comes back from his shock, Dean grabs
He'll Take ItOf course he couldn't just utter a simple 'Let's roll' and think they would jump into the car and speed away. Not with the way Dean is eyeballing him. He can see him try to hold it in, try to let his sparkly appearance slide.
He can see the glimmer of it on his body and yeah, he supposes he may just look a tad on the ridiculous side, covered in clown bits.
His glitter-speckled clothes shimmer in the lamplight and he watches his brother's features begin to light up in the same way.
He can't remember. When was the last time he saw that sparkle of life in Dean's eyes?
Okay, that seals it. He'll let him have his fun. It's been too long. Besides, who knows when he will see an unhindered by death and gloom smirk on his brother's face again.
He gives Dean the go ahead and waits for it.
And when it comes, he basks in it. It's like music to his ears. It has become so infrequent and so rare that he almost forgot what it sounds like.
And it's amazing.
His brother is laughing. Dean is laughing.
The older Winchester nearly jumps out of his skin and the room seems to be suddenly thrust into a vacuum of silence, broken only by the echo of his glass as it slips from his fingers and hits the table. His body seems to have turned to jelly, accompanied by stomach butterflies and the sensation of increased blood flow as his heart pounds in his chest at the thought. At the thought of the impossible as it threatens to now become possible.
He slowly turns in his seat towards the voice. He isn't sure what he expected to see exactly, but he hears his own sharp intake of breath at the sight that stands just inside the doorway. Sam. Awake. Alive. His throat goes dry and all he can manage to croak out is a raspy "Sam?" in response. After the initial shock and adrenaline rush, Dean rises to his feet and watches his brother approach.
He barely has time to turn to face him before the arms of his younger brother wrap around him with such force that it takes his breath away. And Dean can s
Should Have, Could Have, Would HaveHe should have never done it.
He could have prevented this whole fricked up thing.
He would have had some sort of peace, eventually.
He should have let him go.
He could have soldiered on, somehow.
He would have saved him from crossing the line separating sanity from debilitating madness.
He should have listened to Bobby.
He could have helped him find his way.
He would have survived without his brother.
He should have, but couldn't.
He could have, but wouldn't.
He would have, if he knew that his deal would turn Sam's fate into something far worse than death.
DozenThey wait, crammed against each other in the dark, a constant and pervasive chill turning their once warm skin to match the temperature of their environment; of ice.
They remain silent save for the occasional moment when their surroundings tilt; as one of them stumbles and lists to the side, the clang of their body against the wall left to reverberate through the enclosed space before silence takes hold once more.
They wait for the next time the latch will be lifted, signalling the moment when another will be taken.
The squeak of a rusty hinge rattles through their confines and the compartment is flooded with light from above. Not a word is spoken as one more of their kind is grabbed roughly by the neck and pulled through the opening so quickly that they barely feel a ray of sunshine before they are again thrust into darkness.
They wait. There were a dozen of them when this started; their numbers since have dwindled down to three. The others have gone; have served their purpose and lik