67B

How they should have edited this Goddamn scene

Hi @ain-t-bovvered, I’m finally submitting my fic now!

Since I’ve just recently watched the season 12 final and felt like Crowley deserved way more screen time in that episode, I thought I’d use it as my inspiration for your challenge.

So this takes place in 12x23, after Dean slammed the knife in Crowley’s hand in the bunker and told him to stay there while they went looking for Cas and Kelly. I hope you like it!

Title: The Kings’ Goodbye

Characters: Crowley 

Words Count:1,248

Summery: Crowley is alone in the bunker, about to give his life for the Winchesters (12x23). He looks back on the memories he made with Sam and Dean for one last time.

The Kings’ Goodbye

It wasn’t entirely quiet in the bunker. After all the times that he had been here, he never noticed all the gentle sounds that filled the place. The extensive security system, the communication equipment and not to forget the air circulation systems. That would probably the only way to escape the bunker, if one were ever trapped in here. Not that he needed that. He was the King of Hell, he could escape in a second if he wanted too. 

He lifted his gaze upwards to the balcony and looked at the entrance. After Dean had smashed the knife in his hand and yelled some non-imtimidating insults at him, the Winchesters left through that door and locked it from the outside. So here he sat. The King of Hell, pinned on a table, locked up in the Winchesters’ bunker. Again. 

He thought about all the times that he’d been here. The first time he didn’t even know where he was of course, because the Winchesters had blindfolded him all the way and then locked him up in the basement. For weeks. All he could do was sit there, tied up and just watch from a distance while all of Hell was falling apart. Everything he had build up since Lucifer had been thrown back into the cage was crumbling at his feet because of that Abaddon bitch. Still, times seemed better back then than they were now. 

As he looked around the room, something caught his attention. A few photographs, standing on the cupboard against the wall, showing young Sam and Dean. He couldn’t help but smile at himself a little bit, remembering the first time he had seen them. They were such rookies compared to the way they were now. The way they betrayed themselves, nervously gazing at the devils’ trap hidden underneath an old dusty carpet. He immediately saw through their dumb little plan. He was surprised by their stupidity back then, although they did live up to the stories. Even back then there wasn’t a demon who didn’t know a about the Winchesters, and as a King of the Crossroads, he knew everything. If somebody had told him back then that he would be sitting here today, considering what he was about to do, he would have laughed his ass off and probably killed that person on the spot. But here he was.

He remembered his first years of being the King. How much he loved being in control, how much he loved the power that he had. He loved being King. That had all changed after their little plan to make him human again. He didn’t know it back then, but that evening that he shared with Moose, tied up in that old abandoned church while getting blood shots every hour, it had changed him. He started to look different at the younger Winchester after that. Moose- no, Sam had showed a side of him that Crowley had never seen in any human. That determination to do the right thing, not giving a damn that it would cost him his own life. It astonished Crowley a bit. Of course, that was all due to the human blood injections. But something in him started to ache after that. For the first time in centuries, he had felt lonely. The fact that he had been trapped in a dark basement for weeks hadn’t helped of course, but still, as a demon, you weren’t suppose to feel those things. Maybe that was one of the reason that he was willing to help them at the time. Help them save Moose from that bloody annoying angel. Maybe he just wanted to have some company.

So needless to say, he was very pleased when the older Winchester abandoned his giant brother and his toyboy angel to go on a few trips with him. It had been one of Crowley’s greatest plans of all, if he said it himself. Taking Dean to Cain and making him a bearer of the Mark. Making him kill Abaddon. Using him as a personal killer when he was a demon. Having fun together….

He would never say it out loud, but those first weeks with Dean had probably been the best weeks of his life. He had felt more satisfied than ever. For the first time in his life, it felt like he had a friend. It was probably that feeling that made him cooperate with the Winchesters all those times after that. 

Feelings. Who would have thought he would get those? 

Crowley looked at the knife in his hand. He remembered the furious look on Dean’s face when he slammed it down. But Crowley was positive that there was a speck of disappointment in his eyes too. Angry Winchesters he could easily handle, but disappointed Winchesters? That was something else. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if something deep down in his chest started eating on his soulless body. It was the same feeling when Dean had lied to him about Cain and the first blade. It made him realize that Dean couldn’t care less about him. After all those adventures they shared together.

He glanced at the knife again. It is time, he thought. He grabbed the knife with his free hand and tore it out of the other one. Pain shot through him, but he didn’t care. In a few hours, he would never feel pain again.

He walked up to the kitchen in search for some bandage. It was unfortunate he couldn’t heal himself because of that bloody knife. 

As he wandered through the bunker, the memories started to come to him at once. Seeing his mother again. Teaming up with her, Lucifer and bloody God to fight the darkness. Meeting his son again, only to have him taken away from him. Being enslaved by Lucifer. Working with Castiel to find him. All those over powered bad guys  could say a lot about Crowley, but there was one thing that he in which he had outsmarted them all: He had never underestimated the Winchesters. He knew their strength and used it to his advantage many times. Having a common enemy had drew their paths together many times, and he was thankful for that. His life had been most extraordinary, even for a demon. And all of that, thanks to these two big beautiful lumbering piles of flannel. And in the last few months, he thought he saw that the gratitude might be mutual. Especially after he saved Cas.

There was a time when he was the boss of them, when he was able to play them. To double-cross them. But times had changed. He was under their thumb now. And the worst part was that he didn’t even mind. He stopped replying when people called him the Winchesters’ bitch. The truth was, he would much rather be their bitch than Lucifer’s puppy. 

No. He would much rather be their friend than Lucifer’s puppy. Demons could say what they wanted now, it didn’t matter anymore.

He wrapped up his hand and walked up the stairs, to the main door. He wasn’t going to use it of course, he could just teleport out of the room, but the idea of walking to the exist of the bunker gave him the feeling of closure. He glanced around the room for one last time.

“Bye boys”, he said to himself.

His gaze fell upon the photograph.

“And thank you.”

@5-is-a-tux @jenabean75