I wish you would step back from that ledge my friend [Closed]

[goesdown]

Who: Crowley with Sam Yao, John Blake, Bucky Barnes, Emma Swan and Castiel
Where: various
When: June 1st, June 5th and June 8th (dates subject to change if anything comes up)
Rating: R
Warnings: discussion and themes relating to addiction
Summary: Crowley falls back on old habits.
The Story:

(June 1st - Sam Yao, John Blake. June 5th - Bucky Barnes. June 8th - Emma Swan)

Comments

June 1st - Sam Yao

[goesdown]

Things have been weighing on Crowley since his return to Wonderland, his last conversation with Dean floating around on repeat in his head and he knows that he's changed. It hasn't just been Wonderland, either. Back home, facing his mother and saving Gavin last year... he's not sure what to do with any of this knowledge at first, but after a while, he can't decide if he wants to turn it off or drown it in.

When he finally does figure it out, he knows exactly who to go to. He knocks on Sam's door, not entirely sure if he's even home, but half-desperate enough to hope that he is.

Re: June 1st - Sam Yao

[voiceinthedark]

He's a little warier about opening the door these days, even though he knows that Dean has been cured and isn't doing anything demonic and awful. Or not as far as he knows anyway. He's not murdered anyone again and that is the important thing.

Still, he opens the door only a crack, a chain still keeping it from opening fully, and Sam peers out.

"Crowley?"

A minute later the door is opened and Sam is giving him a curious look. "Hey. Are- are you okay?"

[goesdown]

"No." It's an easy answer and one that he wouldn't give to many people in Wonderland, but Sam's proven himself to have the sort of integrity that none of the hunters seem to bother with.

"Can I come in?" This isn't a conversation that he wants to have where anyone else can hear it. Really, it's not a conversation he should be having at all.

Even as he says it, he glances around for signs of hidden devil's traps.

[voiceinthedark]

"Oh." Sam gives him a concerned look and is stepping aside to let Crowley in before the demon even asks. "Yeah, of course. Come in."

He catches Crowley's glance and can guess what he's looking for. When Dean had been on a rampage, everywhere had been covered in things to keep demons out. "It's okay. I got rid of most of the traps for the moment." They're still there, but with a section scuffed out. Easy enough to put back into place if he needs to.

[goesdown]

Crowley nods roughly as he moves into the room, still glancing around nervously. He waits until the door closes before he speaks. It's a delicate subject even without the actual reasons for it. One doesn't simply go around asking their friends for bags of blood.

"I need you to do me a favor, but it's going to sound strange..." He purses his lips. "And possibly off-putting."

June 1st - John Blake

[goesdown]

Crowley hasn't seen Blake since the announcement went out that Natasha's gone home. It doesn't surprise him, because for how much Crowley enjoyed her company, he knows that Blake considered her a very close and important friend.

Still, with Blake scarce, it had been a lot easier to go out in search of a fix and spend several hours lying on their tufted leather couch crying over Mommie Dearest. By the time Blake finally makes his way home, Crowley's lying there in the near-dark with an empty bottle of scotch, wrinkled clothes and a puffy face.

[oversight]

In his usual state after a loss like this, Blake arrives back home far too late and with too few excuses, not that he needs them. When he'd heard about Natasha's departure — and from Darcy, no less, who is nothing if not thorough — Blake hadn't been able to stop himself from disappearing out into the open air. Even with a tight chest he'd run, circling the mansion over and over and over again until he felt like his legs wouldn't carry him any further.

Darcy's oasis had provided some relief. Staying hours with Lewis had felt important, especially with Pepper leaving, too, and Jane being gone longer. Losing that many people that quickly doesn't do a person well in John's experience.

Full of scruff and gruff and shuffling feet, he crosses the living area to insinuate himself right into Crowley's space, draping over the demon's form where he lay on the couch. He hasn't missed the bottle, certainly not the smell of alcohol, but it's not uncommon (though he does find himself wondering over the rest of Crowley's overall state).

[goesdown]

Crowley stirs, unaccustomed to sleeping outside of the nights he spends in bed with Blake. He knows it's Blake before he opens his eyes, the smell and feel of him familiar and welcome, and he wraps an arm around Blake's shoulders to pull him in closer.

He brings up his other hand to brush Blake's cheek as he opens his eyes. There's a brief wonder about whether or not Blake can tell that he's been crying, but it's dark and Blake's probably distracted.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" Crowley's voice is rough.

[oversight]

"Could use a drink," he mutters against Crowley, already seeping into whatever places his body can occupy. It's not often that he actually craves contact, but this is one of those times when he feels starved of it, no matter how much of a brazen lie that happens to be.

What he could use is sleep, really, and every reminder that he can't just stop living because these things happen. There'll be no crawling into a shell and never coming out, not where there are plenty of people in Wonderland to worry over. Maybe they'll all go before Blake does, but acting like that's already happened makes no sense.

And as soon as he can figure that out he'll be okay, but until then...

"How you holdin' up?" John's got plenty right in front of him to focus on. Can't lose sight of that.

[goesdown]

Crowley's hold on Blake tightens and his hand moves to card through Blake's hair. For all that Blake is craving touch, Crowley is feeling just as starved for it and he shifts so that he can kiss Blake's forehead. He's feeling clingy and oddly affectionate and he doesn't expect Blake to mind right now (or maybe not ever), but he knows why he's feeling like this.

"I'm alright." It's a lie and as soon as it's out of his mouth, he already wants to correct it. "No. Not-not alright. I'm... I did--"

He sighs. "Just stay here with me, John."

June 5th - Bucky Barnes

[goesdown]

The blood that he gets from Sam lasts him a few days. He could go back, but there are a lot of factors that make going back so soon a bad idea, not the least of which that constantly losing blood isn't good for anyone and Sam's one of the last people Crowley wants to do damage to.

Bucky owes him a favor and Crowley's seen enough of his mind to know that he can trust the man as much as Crowley trusts anyone around here who isn't sharing his bed. That's not to say that he's a good man, because he's really not any better than Crowley is in Crowley's estimation, but he's not an unpredictable man.

He knocks on Bucky's door and then yells through it. "It's Crowley if you have a moment."

Re: June 5th - Bucky Barnes

[disassembles]

He's lucky Steve is out walking Dodger at the moment. The wall between their rooms is thin enough for either one of them to hear commotion on the other side, whether they're really listening for it or not. While Steve has been better about letting him have some space since he moved back in, the last thing he needs is to try answering questions about why Crowley would come looking for him personally. It's not a fight he really wants to have just yet.

He sets his knife down on the coffee table, where he's been sharpening it against a whetstone. There are four more laid out beside it for cleaning and maintenance, and two already comfortable in their sheaths on his person. His fingers brush the hilt of the smaller throwing knife until he opens the door enough to make a visual confirmation. He looks Crowley over, assessing, then drops his hand and steps aside.

"Inside." He glances down the empty hallway before he shuts the door behind Crowley and follows him into the room.

While he knows there's a debt to settle between them, Crowley has just come back from home, so it could be something else entirely. It could even be about Blake. He folds his arms across his chest, but expression betrays a hint of concern. "What's going on, Crowley?"

[goesdown]

Crowley steps in, looking a bit more hunched than his usual self. He looks around, taking in the room. The knives hardly surprise him after what he's seen in Bucky's memories. The man's clearly the boy scout of assassins.

"I have a favor to ask. It will be relatively painless, but it's going to sound... strange."

Sam had been an easy sell, luckily, but he doesn't expect anyone else to be. He's a bit more trusting than Bucky is for certain.

He fidgets for a moment and then moves to the coffee table to pick up one of Bucky's newly-sharpened knife so that he can inspect it.

[disassembles]

Considering who they are and where, strange is really a baseline at this point.

Only, he has a feeling that whatever Crowley is about to ask him has nothing to do with things like turning into smoke, or any of his own particular talents. The fact that Crowley is nervous - and demon or not, that much is obvious - doesn't bode well.

He doesn't so much as glance as the weapon when it moves into Crowley's hand. He registers it as a potential distraction, and thinks nothing else of it. He considers instead that he wants to know the parameters of this request, as clearly as quickly possible.

"You've already been inside me Crowley, I think we can skip the sweet talk." James raises an eyebrow. "What's this favor?"

[goesdown]

For the briefest moment, Crowley is surprised and then an easy smile slides over his face as easy as melting butter. "I knew I liked you." The phrasing wins him over just as much as the sentiment, really, and Blake's got nothing but good things to say, though that's not always a good thing when Blake's closest have included Dean Winchester and Crowley, himself.

He puts the knife back, almost exactly as it had been before he'd touched it, but maybe a few millimeters off.

"I need some of your blood."

June 17th - Emma Swan

[goesdown]

Crowley had tried to stretch what he had, but everything runs through eventually and while he can go back, there's only so much blood a person is going to give him, favor owed or friend or whatever, so he eventually settles on calling in the last favor he has.

When he knocks on Emma's door, there's a reticent quality to it. It's an oddly neutral thing, forced in its lack of urgency or excitement, because he knows that she doesn't really trust him and that's always been a factor between them. She doesn't hate him, but she knows that he can't really be trusted. That's part of what makes her smarter than most everyone else. Crowley can admit that even as he desperately wants to earn the trust of others.

[cursebreaking]

Emma's not sure who she'd been expecting when she pulled the door open with a single yank-- but it sure as hell hadn't been Crowley. They'd crossed paths a number of times since her first coming to Wonderland, and he was absolutely right-- she tolerated him without trusting him, found him interesting without actually thinking he was someone to let yourself rely on. It wasn't just her past friendship with Dean that made her wary, either, but her own experiences with Gold and all that he had caused to unravel because he couldn't be trusted.

They were painfully alike in a way that made her incredibly uncomfortable, especially when it came to making deals.

"Crowley," she greets him, exhaling slowly. "Let me guess. You're finally coming to collect on that favor."

She's been waiting for the other shoe to drop on that one for a long, long time now.

[goesdown]

It's a sort of shame that she knows the moment she sees him, not because he'd like to play with pretense, but because he does find her to be a generally likable and agreeable person. The fact that she doesn't trust him is irksome, but not a reason to bother disliking her.

"Hello to you, too." The uneasy smile he gives her should be all the confirmation that she needs.

After a moment, he straightens up and exhales sharply. "It's going to be more painless than you've likely expected. Can I come in?"

[cursebreaking]

Welp. Right on the nose, apparently. She nods once before stepping back to usher him in with a dismissive gesture-- she knows he was only asking as a formality; he could have let himself in if he'd wanted, though she supposes that earns him a few points.

"Make yourself at home," she tells him, without really considering what it might mean to make such an offer to the King of Hell. She raises an eyebrow as she lets the door shut behind them, bracing a hand against her hip when she turns to face him.

"I don't know, I've imagined a pretty wide spectrum in the last couple of years. It's been awhile coming. Makes a girl wonder just how big the favor has to be."

[goesdown]

"Well, I would have asked you to stop the Jabberwocky if I thought you could, but as it stands, this is the first time I've needed something that I thought you were capable of." Favors are surprisingly useless in a place where almost anything can be gained from a magic closet, especially when Crowley's been without the loftiest of plans for quite some time.

There's a forced aspect to the way he's standing, as if his first instinct is to slouch and he'd fighting that.

"I need your blood. It won't affect you and I won't use it for anything that will cause any sort of harm to anyone else. It just needs to be human blood."

June 2nd - Castiel

[goesdown]

Crowley, in his blood-fueled lack of balance has taken to wandering around the mansion. He wanders to the common areas that are less commonly inhabited, mostly, enjoying the solitude without having to stay in his and Blake's room. It's when he wanders around the edge of the pool that he finds something troubling.

Once he fishes out the blade, he sits on the diving board, suit soaked and disheveled, and prays.

"Castiel, get your feathery ass down to the pool. We've got a problem."

[freewill]

Had it not been for Crowley's new habit of carrying around a hex bag that hides him from even angelic senses, Castiel would have noted his week-long absence. As things stand, though, he's completely unaware of it. The two of them only interact when absolutely necessary, so not spotting Crowley for a whole week is considered a blessing rather than cause for concern.

Until Crowley prays to him. That's generally something reserved for only emergency situations, as Crowley's much more likely to simply send a text if he needs to get in contact with him.

Castiel has no idea what could be at the pool that would merit such urgency, except for maybe a body floating face down. Either way, he makes his way to the pool immediately, to find Crowley poised on the diving board, soaked through. But no corpse to be found.

Castiel stares at him for a good few seconds before he asks, "What problem?"

[goesdown]

Crowley's aware that he looks a bit pathetic, but given the state he's spent the last day in, it's still not half bad. Sam and Dean have already seen him like that and he'd rather keep it from the other people of his world.

"Wonderland, being the cruel and mysterious mistress that she is, seems to have thought we might want something returned to us." He reaches under his jacket and pulls out the First Blade.

"Either the water here is connected to the sea or someone dug this out and put it in the pool for me to find, so we're going to need a better hiding place."

[freewill]

As soon as the First Blade is shown, Castiel tenses, as if expecting the weapon to fly out of Crowley's hand of its own will and pierce him in the chest. It's not something any of them can afford to have lying around like this.

Wonderland has rejected their attempts to hide it, is Castiel's guess. If someone else had found it, why would they have tossed it into the pool? No, it seems more likely that the ocean is linked to the pool somehow, strange as it might seem.

"It's a good thing you were the one to find it." It's a struggle to even admit that, but if someone who didn't understand the power of the Blade had picked it up at random, it could have been disastrous. Crowley at least knows what they're dealing with.

But where could they put it and know it was safe? Castiel crosses his arms over his chest and bows his head, considering.

"I could... store it within my vessel." At least that way, he would know where it was at all times.

[goesdown]

At Castiel's words, Crowley's eyebrows raise. He's not up to his usual standards of hiding what he's thinking or feeling and right now he's a little surprised that Castiel would admit that he's glad Crowley found it.

He holds the blade as if it's a bomb that could blow any moment as he glances down to Castiel's chest.

"Does anyone other than me know that you kept the tablet in your chest? Because this is only a viable plan if you and I are the only ones who know where it is."

Dean obviously can't have an idea, but Crowley doesn't exactly trust Sam with the knowledge, either, or any of the others. All it takes is one mistake, one slip or poor decision, and they could all be right back where they started.