( closed ) all messed up and slightly twisted

[ganking]

Who: crowley + blake + dean
Where: crowley’s place
When: evening/night of april 1st
Rating: R - death, violence, language
Summary: having checked off sam and cas from his list, it’s time to go after someone else who has wronged dean.

The Story:

[ for all the hollering and chaos people think dean spreads around, his current murder toll is only two. sam had it coming the moment dean had reappeared in wonderland, his grudge against his brother already born back home after their time spent together in the bunker. cas had been more of collateral damage than anything, and a sort of means for dean to wet the first blade after finally receiving it from the vendors.

the person he has in mind as his third victim falls into the same category as dear little brother, with crowley’s transgressions having been made against him back home rather than in wonderland. never mind that this isn’t the same demon king who had turned him in to his brother, that doesn’t really count. the crowley here will, after all, one day go home and do exactly as the crowley he remembers did— and turning against your best friend isn’t something dean plans to stand for.

never mind the fact that crowley’s in a dire need of a wakeup call.

the first blade is loosely in his hand, the power it brings him buzzing through from the hilt, into his hand and up his arm, making the mark of cain all but burn. dean hums a light tune under his breath, out and about without seemingly a care in the world. never mind that sam is after his head, or that john winchester has recently arrived on the shores of wonderland, too. no, tonight is all for him and crowley, so he might as well give it his full attention.

there’s no real tactic to any of this either, not with dean simply strolling up to the door he knows belongs to crowley, and letting his knuckles slide over the hard surface in a few, thorough knocks. with any luck on his side, crowley won't even see it coming, not with him thinking they're still partners in crime.

so, call it improvisation, but dean’s come to learn that makes for the best of times when murder is on the schedule. ]

Comments

[goesdown]

[ The blow comes as a surprise, but it's not the first time Dean's punched him. He remembers quite vividly the snap of a handcuff around his wrist and a sharp punch to the face right before Moose had tried to heal him.

His balance falters, but he does what he can to keep his grip on Dean's jacket even as he stumbles. Maybe it won't be enough, but he's not going to half-ass this. ]

You and I were supposed to be friends.

[ His mouth twists over the word as if it's foreign or even dirty to him now. Maybe it's a testament to just how much this stings, but Dean knows Crowley well enough by now to know that going after Blake is a clear declaration of war. ]

Blake, run!

[ He lunges at Dean, throwing his entire body into it. ]

[ganking]

[ it isn't the first, nor likely the last, time dean gets a phone thrown at him. it's an interesting tactic though, even if it leaves dean wishing he could cram the damn thing down blake's throat.

in fact, he seems intent on doing as much before crowley stops him.

the demon's grip and weight keeps him from going after blake further -- which is a shame, because there'd be nothing better to watch than the crowley's face fall when dean picks apart the one person he seems to care about -- so instead dean begins to twist around, eyes on crowley again. the first blade spins in his hand, efficient and deadly and aching to be used. ]

We were-- hell, we had some great times bar hopping. [ dean might have never really signed up for any kinda demon job, which he suspects crowley wanted of him, but their time spent together hadn't been bad. it's just that the... attraction had been entirely one-sided, sorry, crowley. ] But then you had to go give me up to Sam, even took the Blade away. Friends don't do that.

[ so essentially this is all your fault. and for that, dean swipes down with the blade, the razor sharp edge of the jawbone-like weapon aimed to cut down on crowley's arm. ]

[oversight]

[ As if Blake's ever taken the retreat option, ha! Even in the face of an inevitable end, there's no backing down. It's just not in him, not on a normal day against normal odds, and especially not today against very spare odds.

Even if you took away his deep fondness for Crowley, there's a baseline of support that's been constant and Blake's not about to sacrifice that just to satisfy a survival instinct he's already desperately lacking.

Charging forward, he crashes into Winchester, grappling at him with thin arms wrapped around Dean like some kind of human backpack. This won't end well — he knows that — but the way he figures it, it wasn't going to work out well anyway, not without some kind of miracle. ]

[goesdown]

[ Crowley has the briefest look of annoyance cross his face because that's an odd way to run, Blake, but that's not what matters right now. What matters is that Dean is going to kill Blake and Crowley can't let that happen. Their deaths here aren't endless and even if they were, that's not something Crowley wants Blake to keep suffering.

He brings his arm back and swings a punch at Dean's face, hoping that Blake's distracted him enough that he'll be unable to dodge. The thing about Crowley is that he's no great trained fighter the way Blake or even, to some extent, the Winchesters are. He fights like he's in a pub several centuries ago, because that's where he learned to fight, and that means he throws punches like he's ready to break his hand for the glory of knocking a man out. ]

[ganking]

[ there are funner threeways to be had than the one dean finds himself in the middle of, yet the mark burning on his arm finds joy even in the fight, and dean embraces the feeling. blake crashes against his back, clings to him almost like a squirrel while crowley seems to rear up for some kind of punch.

let him punch him then.

as a winchester, dean's suffered through quite a few beatings. he's been bloodied up at the hands of angels, demons, god knows what else-- and most of the time, he's still survived. now, he's anything but what he'd been before, and while crowley might be the king of hell, dean's on a mission here. the punch lands, sends dean's head snapping back-- yet a second or three later, he's looking right back at crowley, bloody smile on his face from where he's lips now newly split.

cute.

it's not crowley dean goes after, though. instead, he takes two or three steps backwards and slams his back -- or blake, rather-- into the nearest piece of furniture hard, which turns out to be a desk of some kind. from there, it's a simple twist of his body, just enough to grab the cop by the back of his skull, and to yank him forward before bringing his head down onto the sharp angle of the same desk with inhuman strength.

with any luck, his skull won't be broken. ]

[oversight]

[ One of these days John will know what it feels like to have super-strength — considering the number of people around with that ability, it's only a matter of time — but in the meantime, he only experiences that surge of power from the wrong side of the equation.

The first hit knocks the wind out of him, but he's looking at bruises, not broken bones. It's really the edge of the desk to his that does the damage. Winchester's aim is adequate in this case, the hard, heavy wood catching Blake along the temple. He doesn't even have time to reel. A flash of light — or maybe it's just a bright, brilliant spike of pain — leads directly into an inky unconsciousness.

For the time being — what should only be minutes at this rate — he's down and out, unable to provide Crowley any amount of support. A laceration along the side of his head slowly but steadily weeping blood where he lands. ]

[goesdown]

John!

[ Crowley doesn't have time to see if Blake is even alive or not. If Blake is dead, he'll come back, but this will be his third death, won't it? He'll only have one more before it counts for good. Crowley himself is probably facing down his third, too, if Dean is aiming to kill him. Given Dean's track record, Crowley isn't feeling optimistic.

He clears his mind of these thoughts and throws himself at Dean bodily, throwing all of his weight into Dean to try to knock him off balance. ]

I'm going to kill you if he's dead. I'll bloody kill you, Dean.

[ It's not just his body coming at Dean, but his nails and they're aimed at Dean's face and throat. One doesn't get to be the King of Hell without playing a little dirty. ]

[ganking]

[ one down, one to go.

there's that satisfying sound of a body crumpling on the floor, though dean isn't left with a whole lot of time to appreciate it since crowley is screeching at him seconds later. the attack that follows has him laughing though, even as he stumbles backwards, what with it's savagery and lack of finesse. underneath all that poise and pretense of royalty really is just another demon. ]

You look upset, Crowley-- [ big bad demon king, can't stand to see his princess get hurt. what an obvious weakness he has. it's kind of disgusting at the end of the day.

but with crowley's seemingly blind rage, dean is left with something of an opening. his free hand comes to shove at the clawing strikes crowley sends his way, and he swipes the first blade diagonally upwards, aiming to cut right across the demon's chest. it might not be enough to kill him, but if there's anything that should hurt like a bitch, then dean's ready to bet it's the blade. ]

[goesdown]

[ Crowley is running on rage and adrenaline and it takes him a moment to register the pain, but when it does register, he doubles over, nearly crumpling to the ground with a yell.

Blake is his weakness here and he's known that a long time. Even now, he's thinking just as much of Blake as he is himself and that's a rarity for Crowley. This is why he'd spent so much time trying to keep whatever they have between them a secret. This is why he's been raising a little hellhound to protect Blake, whether Blake knows it or not.

His hands go to his chest, putting pressure on the supernatural wound. ]

Why are you doing this?!

[ He launches himself at Dean's legs, intent on taking him down. ]

[ganking]

[ the blade's work gets some space between them, and dean watches crowley double over from the shock of it, the smile on his face reflecting easily just how fucking great the sight makes him feel. whatever cuts crowley managed to get on him with his nails are also healing over already, leaving dean to look on with a bloodied but perfectly intact face.

oh, the perks of being what he is.

...what dean doesn't expect is for crowley to still find it in him to attack him again, and he goes falling down with the demon's weight slamming into his legs. grunting, he wiggles a leg free, and aims a straight on kick at his ex-fake-bestie's face. god, he's always hated that smug face, demon or not. a part of him wonders if he should have come here swinging the same hammer he'd used to remodel sam's ugly mug. ]

I already told you-- [ dean is quick to start getting himself up on his feet again, not intent on lying down and taking it. ]

You stab me in the back, I stab you. It's simple.

[ and speaking of stabbing, it's high time he find the perfect moment to end this. ]

[goesdown]

[ Crowley does his best to hide the shock and the betrayal, but it still slips through with all the pain. There's not much that can damage Crowley quite this bad, but it hurts and distantly he does know that even if Dean leaves him, it won't heal like a normal cut. He wheezes through shaky breaths. The impact of trying to take Dean down really didn't do him any favors. ]

I didn't! There was foosball and triplets and... and you and I? We were good! We've always been good!

[ Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the gentle rise and fall of Blake's chest from where he'd crumpled to the ground. Still alive, for now, but Crowley has no doubt that Dean will see that, too, and finish him off once he's finished with Crowley.

He pushes up to his feet, far from steady. ]

We're pals, you and I, aren't we? We could be great together.

[ Those words have lost a lot of meaning in light of this attack, but if Crowley can get through enough to distract Dean, he can step backwards slowly towards the closet, feigning apprehension.

Silently, he asks the closet for an iron fire poker and a towel to hold it with. He's so close that if Dean would only pause, he could get his hands on it and even the playing field a little more. ]

[ganking]

Please.

[ dean barks a laugh, eyes flashing black, the sound sudden and completely wrong, strained in a way that doesn't sound entirely human.

foosball and triplets had been great, but crowley hadn't factored into any of it-- he could have it all without the demon king, thanks. dean doesn't need anyone anymore, now he doesn't care if people leave him, if no one loves him. he's free and it's the best he's ever fucking felt. ]

Save the sweet words for another day, Crowley, when someone might care to listen.

[ and while dean doesn't register what crowley is doing, it hardly matters. the blade spins in his hand, bloodied from where he had struck crowley, and aching for more, so much more. which is exactly what dean plans on giving it. crowley doesn't get the pause he's hoping for, not with dean closing the distance between them easily enough, speed too fast until he's right there in the demon's face. it comes down to speed, whether crowley can swing his weapon fast enough, or if dean gets to drive his right into the middle of the demon's chest.

buried that deep, there's no coming back from it. ]

[goesdown]

[ Crowley's hand slips into the closet, but there's too much fumbling and his hand grasps the bare iron. He hisses in pain, but doesn't let go. It's all the opening Dean needs, though, and Crowley lets out a grunt, hand slipping from the iron poker as the blade drives home.

There's a look of almost shocked betrayal on his face as he slumps to the ground.

It wasn't supposed to go like this. ]

[ganking]

There you go...

[ voice soft, the blade sinks right into crowley's chest, cutting its way through skin, muscle and organs with ease. the moment it does, all of this is over-- dean's won, crowley's lost. and he can feel the effects, the power surge which follows the moment crowley's life begins to fade away.

it's perfect. it's power.

the demon falls to the ground, leaving dean standing there with a newly wet blade-- and he sucks in a breath, feeling the mark's satisfied shouts under his skin. after that a sense of quiet falls over the room, with crowley fading and john blake still on the ground, a nasty looking thing on the side of his head. ouch.

and speaking of, dean turns to look at the fallen cop, noting the fact that he's still very much breathing. he could kill blake, too, easily slice open his neck and send him right after crowley... but where'd the fun be in that, when instead dean can give him a few days of waiting for crowley to come back instead? that sounds like a blast. ]

Looks like you get to live another day, bud. [ after all, killing blake? been there, done that. yawn. ] But just so you don't feel entirely ignored....

[ he steps closer to blake's body, then presses a boot down over john's shoulder. from there it's a good amount of pressure and a twist, bone and muscle failing as that telling crack sounds from under his shoe. that's better... consider it a parting gift of sorts.

and maybe it'll make blake reconsider ever coming after him.

another breath, with dean casting a look around the ruined room, and he's out. hell, he doesn't even bother closing the door behind him. ]