Don't You Cry » Supernatural [7] | ✓

74

( MULTIPLIED )

        Crowley turns to Meg. "Stay, won't you. There's really nowhere to run." He says. Meg runs for the door, but he appears in front of her, blocking her exit. "Don't even think of smoking out, pussycat. I've got eyes all over the place."

       "Leave her be." Castiel says.

       "Castiel. When last we spoke, you – well, enslaved me. I'm confused. Why aren't you dead?"

      "I... don't know." Says Castiel.

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

       "All right, enough." Dean says.

        "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 asks.

       "You bore me. You know that? You have no sense of poetry." Crowley says and then turns to Castiel. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

       "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..." Castiel says as Dean exchanges a look with Crowley. "...trillions. You know, they're making honey and silk and... miracles, really."

       "What are you talking about?" Crowley asks.

       "Um, preferring insects to angels, I guess. Here. I can offer a token, if you like." Castiel holds up a plastic bag containing a yellow substance. "It's honey. I-I collected it myself."

       Crowley and Dean exchange another look. "You're off your rocker. He's off his rocker – is that it? Karma's a bitch, isn't it?" Crowley helps himself to a glass of whiskey on the table.

       "Look, did you come here to, uh, donkey-punch..." Dean says as Crowley sniffs the whiskey and puts the glass back down. "...your old grudges or to help us end Dick? Pick a battle."

       "Well, I'm vexed. I'd like to do both. But where's the fun in clobbering a ball of wet fur? Text me when Sparkles here retrieves his marbles, I suppose. Meanwhile..." Crowley takes a vial of blood out of his jacket pocket. "...a prezzie."

        "Really? Just boxed-up and ready to go?" Sam asks. 

        "I'm a model of efficiency."

        "Is that right? Then why were you late?" Elena asks.

        "Dick had me in a devil trap. He's not an idiot. He knows what you three are after." Crowley says.

        "So what did he offer you?" Sam asks.

        "A fair deal. In exchange for giving you the wrong blood. It's demon, but is it mine?" Crowley pauses. "It's my blood. Real deal."

        "And why should we trust you?" Asks Dean.

        "Good God, don't. Never trust anyone. A lesson I learned from my last business partner." Crowley looks at Castiel.

       "All right. Give us the blood." Says Dean.

       "Certainly. Oh, bonus. Meg, I'm gonna scoop you up, take you home, and roast you till you're jerky." Crowley says as Castiel starts to move towards him. "But not... yet. Cas can have you for now. Hilariously, it seems he'd be upset at losing you. And the boys need Cas to get Dick. Don't they, Cas?"