kore_logs | (no subject)

After being forced to 'feel' for the past few days thanks to Dean and one emotionally night of listening to one Donna Noble discuss her life and times, he was done. With all of this place. Not just done, fed up. He wanted out and boy did he ever want to leave some big showy reminder he'd been here. And considering the taunt that shot by his ear, he was starting to think the best way to mark his time here was t leave a demon shaped splatter.

Preferably full blown blood and gore. No limits. Hopefully this place had that allowance. Could he still squeeze the very life out of Meg? Possible, surely. She was simply a headache in a demons form. Not worth the air she breathed.

Coming to a halt, Crowley turned, raising an eyebrow at the mouthy women in his way. He was not in the mood to give the time of day to an ant. So, instead, he'd rather just crush it now and save them both time. "Do you know some people have very bad timing? It's not their fault specifically, though perhaps overall it was, but some people are just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I always thought that had to be a right pain in the arse. Catching someone you don't want to catch on a bad day?"

With a smirk, he soon vanished from before her eyes. But, sadly, she'd soon feel a tap on her shoulder. And hear a whisper in her ear.

"You'll have to tell me what it feels like. Well, you know, if you can still talk after I gut you like a squealing pig. See, I've been having a terrible week. Shall we make it better?"

Meg was momentarily disappointed when he disappeared. Well, there went her afternoon's entertainment. Shame. She had been looking forward to a little snark, mocking and taunting. Of course, the tap to her shoulder came and her stomach flip-flopped with a strange combination of fear and satisfaction.

Any fear she felt was quickly hidden beneath a smug smirk and a brassy front. Typical Meg.

"Give it your best shot, Crowley. You can't get it up. You don't have the juice. You're as cut off from Hell as the rest of us. Nothing but a sorry ass has-been demon in a cheap suit."

"Cheap?"

Okay, that was the law straw. How was this at all cheap? He may have been cut off from hell but he still had some power here. And he had no problem hitting a women. Shoving her forward, he raised his hand and sent her propelling through the park. Telekinesis. Got to love it.

"You should really work on your insults though. I mean use a little initiative."

Didn't his mother ever teach him it's rude to hit a lady? Meg probably should've expected it. Unfortunately she didn't and she went flying into a tree trunk. Ouch.

So, he wanted to play dirty, did he? A little bit of insult flinging wasn't enough for him? Fine. Two could play at that game.

Pulling herself to her feet, she thrusted her hand forward, and sent him flying backwards. After all, he wasn't the only one who could use telekinesis.

"I'm just getting warmed up, Sugar."

His mother taught him fuck all. If she'd taught him anything sensible, he wouldn't of sold his soul for a bigger dick. Let's use logic in our insults, okay? And with an amused noise, he found him feet once more and brushed the mud and grim from his suit jacket

Honestly, he really hated being a mess. That was a line crossed.

With an idle flick of his hand, he raised her up off the ground, floating her above even the trees. Then he closed his hand into a fist, cramping and crushing anything squishy or crushable inside her.

It was a simple act but a nasty one. On a human, he could explode them to chunks. Demons? Well, they could just be pained.

Oh great. Just what her meatsuit needed - more injuries. Se was really going to have to go window shopping for a new one soon. This one had been thrown into fire, mauled by hellhounds, tortured, shot, she was probably missing a few... She really didn't want to pick up a new suit - it was always like getting new shoes - they never fit quite as well as the old ones.

Even so, his actions quickly have blood dripping from her mouth. The pain was intense, but she was trying her damnedest not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream.

She gave a pained laugh. "That all you got, big boy?"

"No, I have a lot more. This is just the start. Still feeling confident as well? That's just not going to work."

With a disinterested sigh, he crushes -- well, something. He's not sure what. Either way, organs were never vital to demons anyway. They were just painful when plucked free and easy to harm and damage. A great source of pain. And, really, he was only after doing maximum pain. Why kill so soon when he'd only just gotten started.

"I'm going to crush each one. Slowly. Then when we're done there? Fingers, toes, teeth, tongue... you get the gist, right?"

Basically, he wants to destroy you.

Her confidence is a little shaken if she's honest. Then again, she's a demon - when are they ever honest? She forces herself to laugh again through the intense agonising pain. "You call this torture?! I call this foreplay, sweetcheeks."

It hurts. It hurts a lot. But Meg is one tough, stubborn little cookie. She spits up a mouthful of blood - maybe a little puke too. Hey, she never claimed to be a classy lady, okay?

She curls her fingers in an attempt to crush his windpipe, even though it's getting really hard to concentrate.

Crowley shakes off the move easily, her weaken state was an advantage. Her aim was pathetic so honestly, easy to dodge. Few steps to the left and a gently flip of his hands and she was soon hanging upside down. He picked another organ and did the same thing, letting her get a bit dizzy from the backs stance.

It was going to be too easy. He really needed to get a little creative here.

"You know what? I think I'm going to flay you. You'll still be alive, just in immense pain. See, that's what's funny about human bodies. They're a little too easy to hurt. And very squished. Too many ruined shirts. If you do accidentally burst, aim away from me?"

Knowing that his siblings could go after Dean or Meg at any time, Castiel has made a point to moved around the town, checking up on his friends every so often. He appears about thirty feet away when he sees their fight.

Without another thought, he appears right in front of Crowley. He's in his face, angel blade already in his hand and he's glowing, face stiff with anger.

"Put her down. Gently."

And this is why every demon should have an angel in her pocket for those difficult and painful situations. Talk about perfect timing! She hadn't even had to pray to him. Which she was very close to doing - not that she's willing to admit to that if she could help it.

She had the situation under control. She had just been waiting for the right moment to strike.

Oh okay. That's a lie. She knows she would've been screwed if Heaven's finest hadn't popped up.

She tries to think of some witty remark. But it's hard to brain up snarkcasm when your vessel's insides have been turned to mush.

Crowley knew instantly he was fucked. But, honestly, he was fucked being here too. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go and he was slowly starting to lose it. A rebellion had been brimming a while now. Emotions, strange events beyond even his own amusement and nothing to do but get drunk? It kind of knocked his idea of self preservation a little.

Which is why he didn't let her down gently. He simply dropped her from the height she was up from. Perhaps the force would break a bone or two? One could dream.

"Castiel. Well, I suppose this makes a change from stabbing me in the back."

Though he'd not about to stand there and let it happen. Sliding back, he tried to use his telekinesis to repel back Castiel. Keep him at a safe distance.

Castiel's self-esteem is at an all-time low. He can take attacks on himself, but attacks on the people he cares about, the people he holds in high esteem, are unforgivable.

He disappears before Crowley can do anything to him, reappearing behind Crowley quickly as the shape of his wings begins to become visible.

He starts to glow, lighting up slowly. "You won't touch her again."

The force of the drop definitely doesn't leave Meg unscathed. Her collar bone is fractured, a few ribs crack, and she has probably ruptured a few discs along her spine. No big. It's not like she needed bones or anything. Jello blob demons? Next big thing.

Of course, the problem with being tortured by another demon is that they know exactly how to reach beyond the meatsuit to damage the true form. After all, injuries to the meatsuit aren't that big a deal. She was thrown out of a seventh storey window and got up and walked away from it, despite her meatsuit's internal organs being smushed to hell. Her limbs were all still attached, that had been the main thing.

But Crowley? Crowley is smart and he is cruel and he knows how to cause maximum damage. Good times.

Is it wrong that despite being in agony she finds Cas being protective all kinds of hot? Not that she can watch him the way she would like to because it burns. But the little bit she does see and his voice? Definitely makes the pain worth it.

Okay, yeah, he's fucked. He can't take the tactical retreat in the time it would take Castiel to make a move either. Well, he could try but Castiel had some serious range with that smiting power of his. Crowley didn't fear him, for all he knew, this was the way to get home. A total fake out and a way to reach some level of escape.

With a somewhat annoyed sigh, he spun around and held out his arms. Just as he'd done when his plan of soul stealing went up shit creak.

"Go on then, do it. Show me you still have balls, Cassy."

Part of him, just a small little part, genuinely didn't think that Castiel would go through with it.

He's not sure what his virility has to do with this, but something about the way Crowley drops Meg and the way he's talking sets Castiel off. He's so flippant, so smug.

It's Meg now and probably Dean or Donna or one of his siblings next. He can't risk it. Crowley isn't worth that risk. He has to protect them and he might not be there the next time. After what Dean did in Purgatory, killing a demon is hardly a large sacrifice for him.

Anger clear on his face, he moves in quickly, driving his blade into Crowley's chest and twisting it.

"Is that what you want?" His voice is low and dangerous.

The surge that ran through him after that was beyond painful. His whole being felt like it was ripping apart and he opened his mouth in pain, the power running through him. Yet, despite everything, it almost looked as if Crowley was smiling.

Because, lets face it, where else could he be heading but hell?

Once the blade was twisted, that was it. Crowley didn't see much else from then onwards. Didn't think or feel. everything just went black around in. And that, as they say, was that.

While there's a pang of disappointment that Meg didn't get to kill Crowley herself; she's definitely glad to have gotten a front row seat. It is absolutely satisfying to see the smarmy dick light up like a Christmas tree as his true form is torn apart and destroyed. Did she mention how hot Cas looks too? Damn hot. He should kill more often. Dark suits him.

"I love it when you're bad." She shifts to sit up despite the protests from both her meatsuit and her true form. Son of a bitch has really done a number on her. She whimpers - but never in a million years will she ever admit to it. Demons do not whimper.

Castiel's blade disappears and the light fades before he turns to her, anger replaced by something softer and less sure. "Are you okay?"

He moves to her side, kneeling down next to her to check her over. There's a lot of damage, but he hopes that if she can joke, it means she'll be fine. Brushing her hair back, he studies her face.

"Do you think you can get back to the house with my help?"

She wants to insist that she's fine. That she could've handled it and it's just a few little flesh wounds. She opens her mouth to say just that, but apparently her words and her brain don't feel like co-operating. "Gotta admit... I've had better days."

It isn't a full admission of how damaged she is, but by Meg Standards, it's pretty open and up there. "Just... give me a few seconds to get my legs to co-operate." Definitely up there in the admissions department.

With a sigh, Castiel moves so that he can hook an arm under her knees. The other arm goes under her back and then he stands, cradling her weight against his chest.

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll feel better if I carry you." He's used to Dean's pride enough to understand that pride can be a think to be tiptoed around, but he's not going to let her damage herself further just because she's stubborn. It's a quality he normally likes in her--in both of them, really--until it works against what he wants.

She lets out a cry of pain as he lifts her. It takes all her willpower not to slip into a fight or flight mentality. "You know the knight in shining armour is supposed to kiss the damsel in distress before sweeping her off her feet and riding off into the sunset together on his magical unicorn, right?"

They should probably be concerned about Crowley's body too, right? Littering the place up with corpses is probably frowned upon. Oh well. Nothing lost. The smarmy dick got what was coming to him.

Dead suits him. It's a look he should've tried a long time ago.

He'll take care of dealing with the body later. For now, Meg is his priority.

"I don't have a unicorn and neither of us are from any sort of royal lineage." At least, he doesn't think she is. It's not as if he can look into that here.

He doesn't say anything about the kiss as he carries her back to their house, though. He remembers what that last kiss had felt like. This one would be different, but he knows that she's joking and a kiss wouldn't be welcome, tempting as it is.

She leans into him, curling an arm around his neck. She looks rather tiny in his arms, and she hates herself for letting Crowley get the upper hand. She was trained by the best, she should not've let a former mediocre crossroads demon beat her in a battle of strength.

As for the kiss? His kisses are never unwelcome. Well okay, maybe right this moment it would be on the painful side, but hey, every rose has it's thorns and all that.

"I guess I should thank you for saving my bacon. I mean, I could've handled him. I had it completely under control." She totally didn't. "But thanks, Clarence. Not everyday an angel comes to my rescue."

It's definitely her imagination if he seems to be holding her a little closer after that. He cares about her and he can admit that easily. It's not the same as the way he cares about Dean, but it's important. He doesn't want to lose either of them and he'd come very close to that today.

"I would have been there sooner if you'd prayed. I can still hear prayers here."

He uses his powers to open the front door without disturbing her as he steps inside and heads for her room. He can't heal her the way he heals Dean, but he's seen human triage and he can try his best to help.

"Pray? Me? Gotta admit, I'm hardly the praying sort. Never have been. Doesn't look good on me." After all, she's supposed to be a demon. A former Lucifer Loyalist at that. He is supposed to be her god, and well... that ended well.

Still, she musters the energy to shoot him a smile. "Next time I'm in trouble, I'll pray to you. And you better come running, Feathers."

Her room is a welcome sight; her bed even more so. Of course, there is one thing more important than medical aid right now - she shifts, pressing the lightest of kisses to the corner of his mouth.

The kiss surprises Castiel and there's a moment where he doesn't react outwardly because he's too trapped in his own thoughts, but then he turns his head to give her a proper kiss. He keeps it gentle and he's mindful of her injuries.

Before he pulls back, he gives her one more quick kiss. "Or you could not antagonize people who want to kill you."

He lowers her carefully onto her bed.

Nearly dying is totally worth it for kisses, right? Right. And she loathes herself for becoming such a sap around him. Ugh. Shouldn't she be trying to stick an angel blade in uncomfortable places or marinading him with holy oil? Man, she's got it bad for him. Stupid adorable angel and his stupid way of working into her twisted black heart.

"Clarence, if I didn't antagonise people, what would I do for fun? I am a demon, you know?" She catches his hand, holding it in hers for a moment. "Besides, the smarmy dick had it coming."

He smiles a little, squeezing her hand gently. "I suppose you have a point, but again, there are easier ways to make it."

He doesn't expect her to change, but he wishes she had a stronger sense of self-preservation with things like this. Maybe he's a little more attached to her than an angel has any business being attached to a demon, but she's special.

To be fair, she has outlasted any other demon that has ever crossed paths with the Winchester brothers - save for old Yellow Eyes. Ruby, Lilith, Alastair, and the countless low-level black eyes and crossroad demons they've taken out in their time. In fact, she should probably be entitled to some kind of award for lasting this long.

She should probably let go of his hand, right? He probably needs that for stuff. She finds herself keeping hold of it for awhile longer though.

"So, tell me Clarence, how else can I make my fun? I've very open to suggestion..."

Castiel smiles just a little more, not quite getting what she's trying to imply.

He leans in a little more, voice low as he kisses her forehead. "I don't care as long as everyone I care about is safe." He means her, too. She's pretty high on the list, actually. Enough so that he can't quite figure out what it is.

"Get some rest."

His inability to grasp innuendo is both infuriating and adorable. Mostly adorable - like an oversized puppy, an oversized puppy that she doesn't have the urge to kick, because some puppies just have those 'kick me' faces about them - still, there are times when she wishes he would slam her against the nearest wall and kiss the almighty hell right out of her. Then again, wall slamming in her current state would be bad.

"You putting me on house arrest until I heal? Better make sure there's a bottle of scotch waiting when I wake up then, Feathers."

He nods, making a mental note to do just that, because he wants her comfortable and safe, or as much as she can be here. Without Crowley, he imagines there's already an improvement.

"It might be safer if no one knows that you're injured. If you need anything, I can get it for you."

"Look at that. Got myself an angel waiting on me hand and foot. I should get injured more often." Or not. She much prefers to be the one dishing out the pain than receiving it. Especially at the hands of another demon. Still, better than being attacked by an angel.

"I'll be fine. If I need you, I'll shout." Or pray.