esoteric ↯ dean winchester x reader

lxxviii.

"I don't jig. Now, how do I know you even escaped Michael and he's not making you say all this?" Dean talked to Crowley on the phone, all shooken up from escaping Michael who shook down Hell for a Hand of God.

"Honestly, your cynicism is depressing." Crowley said, ducking into an alley from the sirens wailing in the distance. "Why would Michael force me to discuss the very means of his destruction?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked.

"A weapon... one that channels divinity." Crowley sighed, "Yes, powerful enough to help destroy a force like the Darkness, or Lucifer and even Michael. Tell me you haven't been searching for such a thing."

"A Hand of God? Of course we have." Dean said, looking at the picture of you on his desk. The one you forced him to take while drinking.

"Thought as much. St. Louis. The old post office on Beekman." Crowley stared before hanging up.

"Crowley." Dean's cell phone beeps as connection is lost. He takes one last glance at the picture, looking at your name on his phone in the recent calls list before changing his mind. "Sam!"

~

Sam and Dean entered another abandoned warehouse. There are cobwebs everywhere, so thick that Sam gets tangled and has to shake them off. Crowley is waiting inside.

"Nice digs." Deans attitude spoke, "The Crypt Keeper out of town?"

"I'm lucky to be alive. You think Lucifer might've been bad, Michael had a much larger grudge with Hell." Crowley snarled, "Made a mockery of me in my own God damned palace."

"Palace? Oh, you mean the abandoned nuthouse." Dean laughed to himself.

"He made me lick the floor." Crowley said straight, Sam and Dean smiled, "And he turned all my demons... against me. They scour the earth, day and night, looking to kill me. He has to be dealt with."

"So is this why you brought us here? Some lousy grudge match with Michael? Because trust me we have enough grudges with him to last a friggen lifetime." Dean grunted. "What does Michael even want with Hell?"

"Yeah, where's this, uh, Hand of God you were talking about?" Sam asked.

"Hello? Conquering Hell is more power for him. He's the only Archangel on the map, he's got all the power he wants. Heaven? Hell? It doesn't matter to him." Crowley had a vacant stare, losing himself in the memory, then turning back on, "I'm getting to the Horn, Princess. Your only hope of subduing Amara is to match the level of power that she possesses. And not even your little nephilim arm candy can match her—uh. Speaking of?"

"Don't ask." Dean clenched his jaw, thinking of you.

"Sensitive, this one." Crowley winked at Dean and he had to walk away for a second to collect himself.

"Crowley, you didn't have us come here to put salt on Dean's wound." Sam whispered.

"I have the Horn of Joshua." Crowley said and Dean turned around.

"Joshua? As in the Joshua that won the battle of Jericho?" Sam asked. Dean thought about how you would've known that.

"And I'm willing to entrust it to your capable hands." Crowley said, Sam and Dean look at each other, both sceptical. "What? I just said I'd give you the thing. Preferably I'd like to hand it over to that hot and powerful—"

"If?" Sam and Dean said at the same time, Dean a little more forcefully.

"Is this how you say 'thank you'? You think these things grow on bloody trees?!" Crowley yelled.