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mekachu04"Not too long after sun rise the next morning, Dean had gotten a call from the mysterious warlock - he was going to have to burn this phone; how the hell had the man gotten his number?! - asking after Crowley, whose personal cell was still apperantly sitting on a counter in his flat back in London. At one point, Warlock had asked if Crowley would like him to bring it to the demon, a suggsetion that made Team Free Will all freeze. The fallen angel smiled at the room, and then assured his Godson that that was not nessisary just yet. there was also a quite conversaion between the two that was /not/ vieled threats to Crowley's sort-of-captors - it was clear to all of them that at this point Crowley was quite cappable of leaving anytime he wanted - where Crowley reassured the man of this point, and even a quieter admission that Warlock was right, he did need to get out of bed for a while, even if this was not what anyone had meant by the suggestion.
When the conversation wrapped up, Warlock asked how long his Nanny planned on being away, a not quite whine ment to bring a smile to Crowley's face; thinking of better times no doubt. ""I'm not sure lov',"" he concolded, ""Found myself a bit of a myster; i'd like to see it though if the American's don't mind terrible.""
""Well this American would like you to check in, just to be safe.""
Crowley's face twisted to one of mock hurt, ""I wouldn't dream of leaving you in the dark.""
""... Do you mind if i visit the flat. I figure the plants might like some company if you're going to be gone for much longer.""
""Don't you spoil them. but yea. htey might be getting a bit thirtsy.""
Neither spoke for a moment, Dean almost reaching out for his phone, thinking they'd disconnected, but Castiel paused the motion, a gentle hand to his elbow. Dean looked a the angel, but wasn't able to form a responce before the voice on the whispered, ""Please be safe Anthony. I love you.""
""I'll be fine."" the demon's voice nearly craked, ""I'm not doing anythign stupid this time, I promise.""
Crowley took a shuddering brether, looked very much like he was blinking away tears, and cleared his thraot. ""Okay Hellspawn, I think the human wants his phone back. I'll talk to you later?""
""Tommorw."" it was /not/ a question.
""Tomorrow. Say hi to Adam."" he paused, ""I love you too.""
It was eaily the weirdest conversation any of them had ever watched a demon have, as he tossed the phone back to Dean. ""So, humans. And trenchcoat there. What's for breakfast?""
---
Crowley didn't actualy eat anything, just watch them eat, sipping on some tea he'd somehow gotten Bobby to make him - even Bobby wasn't sure how that one had happened - as he watched the human's eat. Castiel sat opposite the table to him, the two locked in a bizzare stare down as Castiel also refused to eat anything. dean had been trying to get the angel into Human things, with variied success. Food wasn't really one of them yet, but today it seemed the two celestial beings where locked into some kind of bizzare stand off. The demon clearly wasn't eating, but was also enjoying his tea for more than was strickly nessicarry, and kept through out comments to how Bobby's eggs smelled wonderful, and didn't the angel want a bite.
""you first,"" castiel shot back, pushing Dean's plate in front of the angel, ignoring Dean's 'HEY!!"" and move to snatch his plate back.
""I think Small Human wants it more,"" - 'I Am not small! I'm as tall as you!' followed by sam's sort of innocent remark of, 'And probably weight more too.'
'What's that suppposta mean, /Sam/.'
'Not! not like that. It's just. He's so skinny!'
'And I'm fat?'
""Is there a problem being fat?"" Crowley growled, for the vist time, the conversation vering wildly into unknown gorwn. He looked more like his demonic nature, he looked properly angry.
""Not at all,"" Bobby wisley interged, sensing the topic change, and pulling it elsewhere, ""Would you like you're own plate, /Crow/ley,"" over emphising the first half of the demon's name.
It seemed to please the fallen agel, and he eased up, returing to his tea. ""Not this morning, I have tea."" he said, like it made some sort of seince. Castiel figured it was a demonic thing. The winschester's figured it was a britich thing. Bobby figured it was a Crowley thing.
Afterall, he /was/ the smart on of the group.
""You know where hte pot is now,"" bobby paused around his cup of coffee, ""So help your self anytime."" Not that he wanted a demon loose in his home, but so far, the fallen angel had walked past every one of his wards, and he could play nice until he figure out how to stop him. And if he left the kitchen a nice target, he could continue to through up different sigil configurations on the door way to see if something worked.
The Hunter in Sam regretted not having taken more care in remmeering the sigils used on the catatonic angel's prison, but so far Crowley hadn't made an effort to hurt anyof them, and they'd even gotten a loosely - he didn't want to think of how many loopholes one could make with it - deal with Crowley that he'd make no efforts to cause mayhelm and micheif - his words - while under Bobby's hosbitality. As long as that hospitality was continued to him.
No one had liked it, not really, but Bobby had agree'd, knowing something a bit mroe about hospitality laws worked, and betting Crowley did too when he chose that particular word.
---
The sigil on the angel in the bare room still glowed yellow in the dark. Crowley homed in on it like a moth to flame, Castiel confirmign that when he used his true gaze, it was the only thing of the other eatherial being he could see. They'd all been very careful to not let crowley in on the nature of their orignail unplanned for guest, who, while with far more gentleness any of the men where confortable with, had taken to looking after the other like... well a nanny would to a small human child.
They still hadn't figured that one out, adding Nanny and Anthony to the list of things that they hade very many questions about, and no idea how to brach the topic. Sam did however think he and possible found out who Warlock might be, A Warlock Downing coming up after a long night of digging. He'd be about the winchester's age, so of an american dipolomate in the mid 80's. His father was stationed in england, then, in 1991, made a suprise move back to the states. He never gave a resaon.
Warlock had not faired well with the move, a preteen ant the time, and had been plastered over the tabloids relentaly for the next decade, before comepltely dropping off the grid in the early 2000's
Some trash papers claimed he'd died, and there was a massive coverup to hid it; Sam dug around, and found he'd instead hopped a plane back to England, and had been taking classes at a ((community collage)) in London. But him in the right place to have dinner with their new resident demon, and also gave weight to his airstike comments.
He shared the details with Dean in the kitchen, before they poured over their angel problem, as Castiel stood guard over the blank room, Bobby wheeling back and forth though out the day.
Crowley had weakened the seal with hellfire; he couldn't know how dangerous that was without giving away that his 'paitent' was an angel, but hadn't removed it comepletely. He hadn't had to go much into the why's, Bobby clueing into it fast while the demon had worked.
It was an angel, a being that barely noticed the passage of time, if Castiel was an example. But it had also been cut off from /all/ it's sences, both earlyth and etherial, form any where from two-thousand years to a decade. sensory depravation like that was tourture to the human pysce,a nd there was no telling how an angel would react to it.
the celestial body might be fine, but even Castiel wans't really sure.
The bindings also kept the angel from slipping his human form, so he had those sences blocked too.
Freeing too quickly might drive any sanity that had remained away.
Last night, even gental touches had been too much input, the body hyperventaliating itself back into a catotnic state. This morning, muscles still flinches ad startled by touch, but Crowley, moving with the ease of working (intimatly) with young humans that only Dean really had any experience with (and he was a child himslef at the time), knelt at the bed, firm but soft touches massasing unsuded and fightend muscles without yeilding or complaint. Picture perfect physical trainer, but with the care of a child minder.
The Nanny part made sence there, Bobby mused.
He also repeated ly made patterns into the angels hand while he worked, and talked in soothing nonesence the whole time Casteil noted. As the day turned to early evening, and Crowley started the fhand genstures again, Castiel found his voice before he'd had a change to think about it."
