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the sigial wasn't to far off of looking like cursive 'j' - if someone had forgotten how to do cursice capitol letters. The only last bit of advice given by their handy crossraods demon as they let him go was to mind their pronounciation and be polite. and not to be surpised if their next guest wasn't on their best behavour. they where greieving after all.
"what's the pirce, for your help?" sam asked before he left, and cröwley actually looked sincer when he turned back. "don't piss him off, becuase then he's gonna take it out on me. Look. this bloke .. well, demon's don't have friends, but i like this one. He's.. a good apple." cröwley grinned, chuckling to his private joke.
"Normally, i wouldn't put him on anyone'd radar, much less you two - veen if hte world was ending. Is ending, He just wanted to retire, and be left alone. But he didn't get that. Now, i odn't know if he's still trying to kill himself or not, but if he is, well. you tow are pretty netorious for getting everyone around you killed. Maybe here's hoping youe lot can help him out.
"And if not, well, gets him out of the cups for a bit. It's ot going to take him long to fingure out i'm involved, even if he is smarshed off his ass, so. Play nice. Don't get me killed becuase you two ... well. "
And witht hat he was gone, leaving them with little more to do than rest the circle, and change the array for their new demon. Sam was alittle wary they cröwley hadn't given them a name to bind their upcomming guest, leaivng Dean to wonder if this demon was that old, maybe his name was too. that the human launguage wouldn't convay it in sounds. Castiel had no guesses on how the sigil might be interprited, though he did warn that it looked familour.
his angel blade was at the ready, the implication that they might be summoning much more powerful than their regular wheelhouse hanging in the air. Sam put his mony down that if this emon was old enough to read sigils too old for castiel to read - then they might be dealing with a fallen angel. or worse.
****
What they got was not even close to what they'd expected.
They where expecting some kind of eldrich horror momenster. or, based on cröwley - a homeless whino.
Instead, they got a man nearly as tall as sam, but imposibly lanky. He was dressed in all black, but his clothes wherer imprecable and stylish, right down to the polished snakeskin shoes. His dark red hair was about as long as Sam's but was pulled into a deceptivly casual half bun with the loose back in lazy curls. HE was thin faced with impossible cheekbones and was wearing round sunglasses with wide chrome arms. the whole effect was expestive, time-consuminly effortless and reacked of privlage from every stitch.
He had his jaw set, clearly tryng to ooze a calm deminour, body posed carefully casual. "What can I do for you gentleman?"
He too had a british accent, but the trio where not adept enough in the region to tell it appart from cröwley's, and Sam recovreed from the subverted expectation first, "We where told you might be able to read some things for us."
"Do i look like I read?" he snarled, entire body tensing - not with outrage but soething bitter. Casteil nudged Dean, confirming this was indead a fallen angel.
"It's jsut a few symbols," sam trtied again, "Cröwley said you would be our best bet, we're willing to discuss a deal or somekind - "
"Crowl -ey?" the demon interjected, "nice dressed little scotsman, probably with a hellhound or three?"
They nodded, and watched as their guest went into his own little rant, "Thiving pompose little upstart! Is he stealing my calls now too?! couldn't answer this one, so finally denighed to forward it along?! I was okay when he started, ment lesswork for me, but the last twenty years, this has gotten redicousl! I am working on a serious case here - how many of my leads has he intercepted!"
"WAIT WAIT!" Dean raising his arms, "I think we've gotten on to entirely different tracks, we ment to call cröwley. we've worked with him for a few years now. He told us to call you... Mr....?"
He fell still , back tot he casual stand, hands (well fingres) stuffed into his pockets. "I'm Crow-ley. Like the bird, not a ... short person. Anthony J. Crowley. At your service. to /read/" it might of been a snarel, hiw face twisted around the word like it personally offended him. "And then to be on my way, becuase i was on my way to dinner, and it's going to get quite messy for all involved if i'm late."
He glanced at his wrist, an expensive watch, "You've got until Nine on the hour."
Sam glanced at his phone, mentally mathing out time zones, "You're cutting this dinner date close, that's.. half an hour?"
the demon, Crowley, only smiled.
"Classy joint then?" Dean asked, "With some classy lady?"
"IT's higher end than yo could fathom, and no."
"I can fathom pretty high. Classy Guy? I mean, no judgemnt!"
"It's the Ritz, in London." Crowley said, smile droping off forlornly. Where Casteil barely managed human expression on the best of days, Crowley wore his right outin the opne. He more more expresive then any of them where comfortable with, making his morose look all the more gut punching. "The Classy Guy isn't in the pitcure anymore, unfortuyaly. It's just me and My godson."
Dean had ment the comment as a jab, but the dmeon actualy looked rather upset, and he looked away. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"How does a demon have a godson," Sam wondered, "Wouldn't it be a... I dunno. jst seems liek the wording might be... offensive?"
"I don't pick what you humans call things. families get weird and all mixed up up here. I like it, but ... yeah, the words that get picked call rackle a bit. And time is clicking away, so..Reading. So i can go."
Sam handed him the sketch he'd shown Cröwley earlier, the one the crossroads demon had drawn ont eh back of. this crawley looked at it for a moment, saking his head, before flipping it to Sam's sketch. He held the paper out as far as he could tilting his head. "This is... very old. And very Holy. hurts to look at it. WHy don't you have the angel read it?" he said, trying to hand the paprt back.
"/Can/ you read it, Castiel challanged.
"I odn't like to read. a straign on the eyes. and this.. off. hurts jsut to look at all on it's own."
"But can you read it?"
"It's jsut a letter. it doens't say anyting to read. That's like handing me the 'W' fromt he hollywood sign with no conxtext and being like. 'here, read thig!'"
Dean pulled up his ohine, scrolling to though the ppictures thaty'd taken eariler. He help up the screen tot he dmeon, but out of reach, shoing off a cluster around the mistery angel's spine.
Crowley studied it quietly for a moment. "That's still not reading - that's closer to math. Like an equation or a cipher. letters instead of words, with a language that already is a letter as a word. like trying to make an acronym with hanzi." He looked past the ohone tot he angel. "Why can't you read it." he asked again.
"Its too old. Heaven doens't teach this anymore. I mihgt know a few words, but i didn't even though there was awritten element until recently."
"It's the first language of the universe. It's how everything is coded. Do angels not make things anymore?"
Cateil shakes his head int he negative.
the demon look discusted, but not at any of them. "Okay - not my feild, and this is... painful, litteraly, to look at, and i'm several thousand of years of pracice. But i think it's an equation for fleshy bodies. not sure what it does, but its not star code, i can promis you that. i think it's more with sences, like desinging eyes and stuff. outside my pagrade, even back then."
"You saying ths is.. math?" sam asked, confused. Dean just looked annoyed.
"It's what pops in to mind," he says gesturing at dean's phone. "Can i see that?"
"No." dean said, pocketing it. unsure if he wasnted to show the dmeon more.
"Well, then, gentlemen." he apused, looking at htem, "Yeah, gents. So. either you let me go back to my evening, or..."
"give us a minue."
"Or you let me call my godson, and tell him to stand down."
That quieted the room,a nd Dean looked at him, "What... do you mena?"
"My godson. The godsone, of a litteral demon. Who is expecting me to jing him for dinner. What do you think is going to happen if i mysterously fail to make that appointment?"
"what's the pirce, for your help?" sam asked before he left, and cröwley actually looked sincer when he turned back. "don't piss him off, becuase then he's gonna take it out on me. Look. this bloke .. well, demon's don't have friends, but i like this one. He's.. a good apple." cröwley grinned, chuckling to his private joke.
"Normally, i wouldn't put him on anyone'd radar, much less you two - veen if hte world was ending. Is ending, He just wanted to retire, and be left alone. But he didn't get that. Now, i odn't know if he's still trying to kill himself or not, but if he is, well. you tow are pretty netorious for getting everyone around you killed. Maybe here's hoping youe lot can help him out.
"And if not, well, gets him out of the cups for a bit. It's ot going to take him long to fingure out i'm involved, even if he is smarshed off his ass, so. Play nice. Don't get me killed becuase you two ... well. "
And witht hat he was gone, leaving them with little more to do than rest the circle, and change the array for their new demon. Sam was alittle wary they cröwley hadn't given them a name to bind their upcomming guest, leaivng Dean to wonder if this demon was that old, maybe his name was too. that the human launguage wouldn't convay it in sounds. Castiel had no guesses on how the sigil might be interprited, though he did warn that it looked familour.
his angel blade was at the ready, the implication that they might be summoning much more powerful than their regular wheelhouse hanging in the air. Sam put his mony down that if this emon was old enough to read sigils too old for castiel to read - then they might be dealing with a fallen angel. or worse.
****
What they got was not even close to what they'd expected.
They where expecting some kind of eldrich horror momenster. or, based on cröwley - a homeless whino.
Instead, they got a man nearly as tall as sam, but imposibly lanky. He was dressed in all black, but his clothes wherer imprecable and stylish, right down to the polished snakeskin shoes. His dark red hair was about as long as Sam's but was pulled into a deceptivly casual half bun with the loose back in lazy curls. HE was thin faced with impossible cheekbones and was wearing round sunglasses with wide chrome arms. the whole effect was expestive, time-consuminly effortless and reacked of privlage from every stitch.
He had his jaw set, clearly tryng to ooze a calm deminour, body posed carefully casual. "What can I do for you gentleman?"
He too had a british accent, but the trio where not adept enough in the region to tell it appart from cröwley's, and Sam recovreed from the subverted expectation first, "We where told you might be able to read some things for us."
"Do i look like I read?" he snarled, entire body tensing - not with outrage but soething bitter. Casteil nudged Dean, confirming this was indead a fallen angel.
"It's jsut a few symbols," sam trtied again, "Cröwley said you would be our best bet, we're willing to discuss a deal or somekind - "
"Crowl -ey?" the demon interjected, "nice dressed little scotsman, probably with a hellhound or three?"
They nodded, and watched as their guest went into his own little rant, "Thiving pompose little upstart! Is he stealing my calls now too?! couldn't answer this one, so finally denighed to forward it along?! I was okay when he started, ment lesswork for me, but the last twenty years, this has gotten redicousl! I am working on a serious case here - how many of my leads has he intercepted!"
"WAIT WAIT!" Dean raising his arms, "I think we've gotten on to entirely different tracks, we ment to call cröwley. we've worked with him for a few years now. He told us to call you... Mr....?"
He fell still , back tot he casual stand, hands (well fingres) stuffed into his pockets. "I'm Crow-ley. Like the bird, not a ... short person. Anthony J. Crowley. At your service. to /read/" it might of been a snarel, hiw face twisted around the word like it personally offended him. "And then to be on my way, becuase i was on my way to dinner, and it's going to get quite messy for all involved if i'm late."
He glanced at his wrist, an expensive watch, "You've got until Nine on the hour."
Sam glanced at his phone, mentally mathing out time zones, "You're cutting this dinner date close, that's.. half an hour?"
the demon, Crowley, only smiled.
"Classy joint then?" Dean asked, "With some classy lady?"
"IT's higher end than yo could fathom, and no."
"I can fathom pretty high. Classy Guy? I mean, no judgemnt!"
"It's the Ritz, in London." Crowley said, smile droping off forlornly. Where Casteil barely managed human expression on the best of days, Crowley wore his right outin the opne. He more more expresive then any of them where comfortable with, making his morose look all the more gut punching. "The Classy Guy isn't in the pitcure anymore, unfortuyaly. It's just me and My godson."
Dean had ment the comment as a jab, but the dmeon actualy looked rather upset, and he looked away. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"How does a demon have a godson," Sam wondered, "Wouldn't it be a... I dunno. jst seems liek the wording might be... offensive?"
"I don't pick what you humans call things. families get weird and all mixed up up here. I like it, but ... yeah, the words that get picked call rackle a bit. And time is clicking away, so..Reading. So i can go."
Sam handed him the sketch he'd shown Cröwley earlier, the one the crossroads demon had drawn ont eh back of. this crawley looked at it for a moment, saking his head, before flipping it to Sam's sketch. He held the paper out as far as he could tilting his head. "This is... very old. And very Holy. hurts to look at it. WHy don't you have the angel read it?" he said, trying to hand the paprt back.
"/Can/ you read it, Castiel challanged.
"I odn't like to read. a straign on the eyes. and this.. off. hurts jsut to look at all on it's own."
"But can you read it?"
"It's jsut a letter. it doens't say anyting to read. That's like handing me the 'W' fromt he hollywood sign with no conxtext and being like. 'here, read thig!'"
Dean pulled up his ohine, scrolling to though the ppictures thaty'd taken eariler. He help up the screen tot he dmeon, but out of reach, shoing off a cluster around the mistery angel's spine.
Crowley studied it quietly for a moment. "That's still not reading - that's closer to math. Like an equation or a cipher. letters instead of words, with a language that already is a letter as a word. like trying to make an acronym with hanzi." He looked past the ohone tot he angel. "Why can't you read it." he asked again.
"Its too old. Heaven doens't teach this anymore. I mihgt know a few words, but i didn't even though there was awritten element until recently."
"It's the first language of the universe. It's how everything is coded. Do angels not make things anymore?"
Cateil shakes his head int he negative.
the demon look discusted, but not at any of them. "Okay - not my feild, and this is... painful, litteraly, to look at, and i'm several thousand of years of pracice. But i think it's an equation for fleshy bodies. not sure what it does, but its not star code, i can promis you that. i think it's more with sences, like desinging eyes and stuff. outside my pagrade, even back then."
"You saying ths is.. math?" sam asked, confused. Dean just looked annoyed.
"It's what pops in to mind," he says gesturing at dean's phone. "Can i see that?"
"No." dean said, pocketing it. unsure if he wasnted to show the dmeon more.
"Well, then, gentlemen." he apused, looking at htem, "Yeah, gents. So. either you let me go back to my evening, or..."
"give us a minue."
"Or you let me call my godson, and tell him to stand down."
That quieted the room,a nd Dean looked at him, "What... do you mena?"
"My godson. The godsone, of a litteral demon. Who is expecting me to jing him for dinner. What do you think is going to happen if i mysterously fail to make that appointment?"
