Sam, Crowley learns, finds it hard to find suits that fit him. He also hates beetroot and likes a nice long bath every now and then. Crowley also learns Sam is chatty when hopped up on cold medication.
He has to remind himself at least three times that he needs the overgrown ape so can’t leave a bloody corpse behind. So, understandably, he is astoundingly thankful when the first thing they see through the swirling black hole into the eternal forests of Purgatory is the rough face of Dean Winchester, popping out from behind a tree.
“Sammy?” the hunter gets a little lined crease of confusion between his eyebrows. Really, it doesn’t take much.
“Dean!”
Sam’s big body bounds past Crowley, almost upending him in a questionable pile of goo.
Then there is hugging, of course there is. Dean latches on to Sam’s large shoulders, clinging one hand into Sam’s unruly locks and Sam’s hands are fisted tightly into the dirty material of Deans shirt.
After a few brotherly loving moments Dean pulls back, the permanent frown on his face deepening
“Sammy? Are you sick?!”
“I’m fi-“ Sam breaks off again to cough.
Then the frown morphs to a scowl and points Crowley’s direction “You let him come down here sick!”
“You’re welcome.” Crowley huffs and turns to surveys his new domain.
It doesn’t really look like much right now, but a bit of grunt work and TNT and wham in some state of the art torture racks; it will feel just like home. He can still hear Dean fussing and muttering, leading a still spluttering Sam out through the portal back to the real world.
“Atchooo!”
“Eww – Sam!”
“Sorry.”
Or perhaps we will just build himself a sanctuary, find every anti-Winchester charm he can and hole up there for eternity. It’s sounding like a fine idea at the moment.
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An Unlikely Partnership Part 4
Date: 2012-05-26 07:56 pm (UTC)He has to remind himself at least three times that he needs the overgrown ape so can’t leave a bloody corpse behind. So, understandably, he is astoundingly thankful when the first thing they see through the swirling black hole into the eternal forests of Purgatory is the rough face of Dean Winchester, popping out from behind a tree.
“Sammy?” the hunter gets a little lined crease of confusion between his eyebrows. Really, it doesn’t take much.
“Dean!”
Sam’s big body bounds past Crowley, almost upending him in a questionable pile of goo.
Then there is hugging, of course there is. Dean latches on to Sam’s large shoulders, clinging one hand into Sam’s unruly locks and Sam’s hands are fisted tightly into the dirty material of Deans shirt.
After a few brotherly loving moments Dean pulls back, the permanent frown on his face deepening
“Sammy? Are you sick?!”
“I’m fi-“ Sam breaks off again to cough.
Then the frown morphs to a scowl and points Crowley’s direction “You let him come down here sick!”
“You’re welcome.” Crowley huffs and turns to surveys his new domain.
It doesn’t really look like much right now, but a bit of grunt work and TNT and wham in some state of the art torture racks; it will feel just like home.
He can still hear Dean fussing and muttering, leading a still spluttering Sam out through the portal back to the real world.
“Atchooo!”
“Eww – Sam!”
“Sorry.”
Or perhaps we will just build himself a sanctuary, find every anti-Winchester charm he can and hole up there for eternity. It’s sounding like a fine idea at the moment.
THE END