7 – Hellraiser

Crowley didn't kid himself. Someone with the First Blade and the Mark of Cain turning on him would be a bad situation indeed. He could very possibly end up as dead as the next demon, angel, or whatever that had crossed its path.

But here was the thing – could you simply absorb the Mark's power? He didn't think so. You were cursed with it, or it was given to you, but there were few circumstances where it could be taken by force.

She started towards him, murder in her eyes, and then stopped. She swayed, looking unsteady on her feet, and very confused. "Problem, love?"

"What … what's going on?"

"Feeling a bit sick, are we? I think you've established yourself as someone who acts, but doesn't think too much. Which can work for a god, but not in these circumstances."

Dean shook his arm, which was still bleeding profusely, and cursed up a storm as he got to his feet. He staggered and almost fell over, but he looked like he was still considering his attack options. Dean hadn't figured it out either.

Aericura hunched over, and made gagging noises. "I can't –"

"He's a vessel," Crowley pointed out, wondering how she lived so long being this spectacularly stupid. "He's just a container for the Mark. Are you aware of the kind of container he is? He's dead. He's a dead human reanimated by the Mark. How does that feel, goddess? To be transformed into a dead human?"

She collapsed to her knees, and was making a noise like a rusty croak. Crowley got a sense she was trying to marshal her forces, but the problem with being a power usurper was you manifested whatever you took. Even if what you took was technically a corpse.

Finally she keeled over, hitting the ground face first.

Dean had raised his toothy knife, but now just looked confused. "Are you kidding me? She absorbed my death?"

Crowley dipped his head. "That kind of power set is a bitch, especially if you're stupid. I'm amazed she lived this long."

Dean stood over her, uncertain. "Will she recover?"

"Don't really know."

"Should I cut her head off, just in case?"

He shrugged. "Knock yourself out."

Despite the bloody chunk still missing from his arm, Dean cut her head off, and then, as if to make sure she was sincerely dead, chopped her head in half as well. He supposed he'd dismember her if he let him, and Crowley was okay with that, but he preferred incinerating her. Gods could recover from a lot of things, but being torched to cinders was difficult for many.

Once Dean looked up from his butchery, he asked, "Is the dimensional whatever the hell gone?"

"It is."

He gazed around at the town. If there were any Leviathan left, they were wisely hiding. "Should we burn this shitty town down?"

Crowley smiled. "Great minds think alike." He snapped his fingers, and all the buildings on the other side of the street burst into flame. It was always satisfying to watch.

As soon as they walked away from the rubble and the dismembered corpse (?) of Aericura, Crowley lit it up as well. He let Dean get some gas from the car and set a building on fire, because why should he have all the fun?

By the time they got back in the car, everything save for the car, and the broken road, was on fire. Made a lovely picture. He was pretty sure Leviathans couldn't burn to death, but he bet it hurt like hell, and he was willing to settle for that. At least most of them were dead or as good as dead.

Dean held out his arm, which was still bleeding from the missing chunk, and asked, "Little help here?"

"You're healing."

"It'll take days, and I bet they'll notice at the next bar."

Crowley rolled his eyes, but touched his arm, healing and restoring it instantly. "Don't get use to this. I'm not a lovesick angel. Speaking of which, decaying grace or not, I'm kind of surprised poor soppy Castiel hasn't found us by now."

"He won't. He's obeying Dean's last wishes."

Crowley looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I haven't heard this. I thought Dean died with Moose."

"He did. But the last thing he actually did was think a prayer at Cas. He and Cas had this thing, where he didn't actually need to talk to him out loud. He could just think it at him and Cas would pick it up. Dean never told Sam, and didn't use it much, because he rightly suspected it was weird to be so mentally entangled with someone."

Crowley shook his head. "So obsessed with his masculinity, wasn't he? Nothing says insecure so much as that."

Dean nodded, as he put the keys in the ignition. "You don't know the half of it. So what his last thought was was actually 'Cas, if you ever loved me at all, take care of Sam, keep him safe.' "

This didn't surprise Crowley in the least. Dean and Moose had that weird thing, which he was half-convinced would turn into some icky family love story at some point if they weren't careful. "Was Dean ever aware Sam was his brother and not his son?"

Dean shrugged. "Sam's kinda both to him. Dean raised him more than John. It doesn't set up a healthy dynamic."

"I imagine not. But it was a smart move. At least we don't have to worry about Castiel."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, but you can bet Sammy's still looking for him."

"Oh, I've no doubt. But if he thinks he can find us, he's dumber than I thought." He was the goddamn King of Hell. No one found him unless he wanted to be found. The Deanmon was perhaps a bit more worrisome, as he wasn't always as aware as he should be of who was watching him, and why.

The sun was beginning to set, giving the sky a pleasant rosy glow, where it wasn't being occluded by the thick black smoke of burning buildings, Leviathans, and one astonishingly stupid goddess. It would have made a lovely postcard. Wish you were here, burning in Hell.

As they drove off, Dean asked, "What about karaoke?"

Crowley sighed heavily. He knew human Dean had been repressed, but this was still incredibly ridiculous.

The End