Author: Kat Lee
Character/Pairing: Crowley/Dean, Rowena
Challenge/Prompt: 1_million_words Monday Flash Challenge: "Did you really think you could get away with it?"
Warning(s): Cannon Character Death, Spoilers
Word Count: 548
Date Written: 19 June 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Kripke, not the author, and are used without permission.
“Did yoo really t’ink yoo could get away wit’ it?”
Crowley’s red eyes snapped open. He groaned aloud when he saw his mother leaning over him, her face sticking down into his. “Bollocks,” he muttered and forced himself to shut his eyes again. “You’re not real,” he told the specter.
He felt her raise herself up as she sniffed disdainfully. “That does nae matter! Th’ question remains: Did yoo really t’ink yoo could get away wit’ it?”
“Doesn’t matter what I thought,” Crowley grumbled and turned on his side. “Now go away.”
“Fergus, I’m not going anywhere! This is a Hell o’ yuir own makin’, an’ yoo’re stuck wit’ me!”
“I’m stuck with whoever THE HELL I DAMN WELL PLEASE!” the former King of Hell bellowed, sitting up. He glowered at the image of his mother. “NO, I DIDN’T THINK I’D GET AWAY WITH IT, BUT THAT DIDN’T MATTER! I DIDN’T EXPECT TO GET AWAY WITH IT! THAT’S NOT WHY I BLOODY WELL DID THE DAMN THING!”
“No,” a cocky voice sounded from behind him, making Crowley spin around. His mouth hung slightly open as he stared up at the image of Dean Winchester. His mind had always possessed a fantastic imagination, and its rendering of Dean was quite spot on. Dean’s jeans clung tightly to him, and the way his mouth moved, so full and cocky, made Crowley just want to grab him and kiss the mess out of him.
But this wasn’t the real Dean, he reminded himself even as “Dean” leered closer at him. Like the image of his mother which was now gone, this was only another hallucination. He had sacrificed himself to save the mortal, but he had also lost any chance he might of ever had of having him for himself in doing so. Not that he’d had much of a chance to begin with. Dean was far too wrapped up in his brother and the Angel to ever take real notice of Crowley and of everything he had done and sacrificed for him. But because he was dead, Dean still lived.
“You did it for me,” Dean said.
Crowley raised his head proudly. He looked the image in his eye. “Well, Hell, yeah, I did it for you, Squirrel. I bloody well didn’t do it for myself!”
To his surprise, the image smiled. “You’re not all bad, Crowley,” he acknowledged and then snapped into nothingness, leaving empty, hot air behind him.
No, he wasn’t all bad, Crowley thought. Dean had saved him long before he’d saved the mortal. They had saved each other in the end. He felt more alive even now because of the way Dean Winchester made him feel and the sacrifice he had willingly made for the boy than he had felt in centuries. He looked around himself as he tried to push his bubbling emotions to the side. He was up now. He might as well make the best of it and keep trying to find a way out of this bloody place. If he ever succeeded, maybe Dean would give him a little loving after all. He knew he was kidding himself, but it was the only thing he had left to which to cling as he sought a way out, and so, cling, he did.