Running From Insanity

32. Solidarity Sandwich

"Stay, won't you. There's really nowhere to run," Crowley said emotionlessly. 

Meg did not hesitate to start running towards the door. She was stopped when Crowley suddenly appeared in front of the exit. He raised a finger at her.

"Don't even think of smoking out, pussycat," he warned. "I've got eyes all over the place." Meg glared up at him but stepped aside. 

Castiel shuffled uncomfortably. "Leave her be," he commanded weakly. 

Crowley's eyes moved to look at the angel and he dropped his hand. When he started speaking he strode towards us. "Castiel. When last we spoke, you—well, enslaved me... I'm confused. Why aren't you dead?" 

Cas looked from Crowley to me. "I... don't know." 

"Well, do you want to be? 'Cause I can help with that," Crowley growled. 

Dean quickly entered the conversation. "All right, enough." Like Sam, I opted to stay out of it. I was the newcomer, I had no place to argue.

Crowley snarled at Dean. "It's enough when I say. I came here to help you. I find out you've been lying to me, harboring an angel, and not just any angel—the one angel I most want to crush between my teeth!" 

"Oh, so you can crush angels now, huh?" Meg murmured. But it was enough to get the King to turn around. 

"You bore me. You know that?" he said quickly, making Meg smile. "You have no sense of poetry." Then he turned back to the angel. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?" 

Castiel looked at his feet and shrugged. "Well, I'm still, uh, honing my communication strategy. I haven't even been back to Heaven. I-I keep thinking there are no insects up there, but here we have..." I noticed Crowley look at Dean, confused. Dean just smiled back. "trillions." Crowley quirked his neck, truly confused. "You know, they're making honey and silk and... miracles, really." 

"What are you talking about?" Crowley finally asked. 

"Uh, preferring insects to angels, I guess." Castiel then dug into his pocket and held up a bag of yellow goo. "Here. I can offer a token, if you like." He then walked over to Crowley with a smile. "It's honey. I-I collected it myself. 

Crowley, again, looked at Dean, who, again, smiled, nodded, and shrugged. "You're off your rocker," he told Cas who simply turned his back and walked away. "He's off his rocker—is that it?" Crowley looked at the whiskey on the table and lifted a glass. "Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" 

"Look, did you come here to, uh, donkey-punch," Crowley sniffed the golden alcohol and put it back down with a face, "your old grudges or to help us end Dick? Pick a battle." 

Crowley shrugged. "Well, I'm vexed. I'd like to do both. But where's the fun in clobbering a ball of wet fur?" Castiel opened his mouth to say something but I stopped him with a hand. The king sighed. "Text me when Sparkles here retrieves his marbles, I suppose. Meanwhile," he reached into his jacket pocket and brought out a vial of crimson liquid, "a prezzie."

I inhaled deeply, smelling the irony blood within the glass tube. It was blood, that was for sure, but I couldn't tell if it was his. With our luck, it wasn't, but I had to hope it was.

"Really? Just boxed-up and ready to go?" Sam asked, finally butting in. 

"I'm a model of  efficiency."

"Then why were you late? King's aren't supposed to be late," I prodded. Crowley only moved his eyes to look at me. 

"Dick had me in a Devil Trap. He's not an idiot. He knows what you tw-three are after," he told us, now looking at Dean. For some reason, Dean seemed to be his comfort spot.