Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Azazel/YED
By all means, it was a perfectly normal day. For everyone involved, anyways. Normal was relative, and none of these people (Or otherwise supernatural) had a good grasp on “Normal”.
In their Pseudo-father’s home of Sioux Falls, the Winchesters and Bobby were preparing to summon a demon. It was the wrong demon, of course, but they didn’t know that yet.
Said wrong-demon was currently training the local pigeons to steal money from whoever looked like a big enough asshole on the street. The pigeons would later drop the money in front of anyone who seemed to be particularly down on their luck, but that had nothing to do with Crowley. The feathery menaces had free will too, after all. This was of rather great importance to Crowley, as he was gathering them all for their first heists when he felt the familiar pull of a summoning.
A gun was fired, ruining Crowley’s favorite shirt as he was still in shock from the sudden change in location, pigeons still in his hands and on his shoulders that were thankfully missed. Once he gathered his bearings, the demon turned around to stare at his assaulters, who looked more shocked that he was still alive, and rightfully so, than guilty about shooting him in the first place.
“Well, that was bloody rude! You ruined my favorite shirt. And you could’ve hit my pigeons! Shooting me is one thing, but an innocent bird?” Looking up and down, the demon took in his surroundings, seeing the demon trap above him and the summoning circle below him, Crowley resigned himself to waiting until the three left the room to make it look like something else let him out. He couldn’t let anyone think he was anything but a normal demon, after all. The green-eyed one raised the gun again, firing another shot into Crowley’s chest that sent all of the pigeons flying off. Except for Coo-doo, she had been a New York pigeon and was rather used to the sound, “Right, this is getting annoying. You’ve scared all my pigeons, do you have any idea how hard it will be to gather them all up again? Now, who are you and what do you want? Deals really aren’t my scene.”
“What the hell are you… Why didn’t that kill you, you yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch?!”
“I’m a demon, obviously, you're the ones who summoned me. You clearly knew I was one, if that trap above my head means anything, so I don’t know why you bothered shooting me. Last I checked, demon beats gun.” Something that sounded a lot like ‘ american arseholes ’ was whispered under Crowley’s breath. Crowley thought he was acting normal, by demon standards. He had no idea what the gun the men before him held was capable of.
“You don’t remember The Colt? The one gun that can kill anything?” The freakishly tall one spoke, squinting and turning his head in confusion. This of course meant nothing to Crowley, as he'd done very well to avoid the Americas as much as he could in the last, say, 500 years. Not to say he hadn't been there at all during that time, but the Settlers and the Spaniards had been right bastards in his opinion.
“Well, one, clearly not everything, and two, remember ? I’ve never even seen the thing. Or you! Seriously, who are you?”
“Like you don’t remember us, asshat! You’ve been trying to kill us for the past year, you killed our dad!”
“Alright, I think you’ve got me mixed up for some other demon, and I don’t do cheating.”
“You’re just trying to get us to let you out of that trap.”
“No, really, no idea who you are. Or what ‘The Colt’ is. If this is some big thing, you should know I’m retired. I don't deal with Hell anymore. Now if you could please let me go, with my pigeons preferably, I’ll be on my way. No harm done!”
“Hell no! Even if you aren’t the Yellow-eyed demon, which you’re not fooling anyone by the way, you’re still a demon and we can’t just let you go. You'll kill us the second the circle is broken.”
“Well, I do have yellow eyes, but I doubt they’re the same as whatever demon you’re thinking of.” To prove his point, Crowley pulled off his sunglasses, showing his snake-like eyes off to the room. The three jumped back at first, before examining his eyes a little more. The green-eyed one turned to the older man,
“Bobby.” The oldest man, Bobby, as Crowley could now call him, began looking through the book in his hand with a grunt,
“Wrong demon.” He spoke with a gruff voice,
“Yeah, no shit Bobby.”
“Don't you take that tone with me, Dean.” Another name, now for the sassy one with the green eyes, Dean cowed his head with a quiet ‘Sorry’, “How the hell was I supposed to know the summoning spell would be wrong? All I had on the thing is yellow eyes and powerful, the description in the book matched well enough and you said you were willing to take the chance. Lot of good that did you.”
“Great, great, that's out of the way, let me out.”
“ No .” All three voices boomed at once, before huddling into a corner to talk about their next move. Crowley could have listened in, but the demon really didn't care.
“You have no idea how to kill me, and you can't keep me here forever.”
“Guess we'll just have to exorcize you, then.” The tall one spoke up, “We can't just let you run around up here hurting people.”
Opening a book of some sort, Bigfoot began to read, and Crowley thought he might as well have some fun with this as he began to dramatically act out getting exorcized, like the bad actors priests pull up to the front of the church to try to make people believe in demons. Not that they didn't exist, just that it was rather embarrassing having that represent demons to the general public. Just as he was getting to the end of the exorcism, Crowley straightened up again and started clapping,
“A+ pronunciation, truly, great stuff. Haven't heard an exorcism like that in say… eight hundred years? Fourth Crusade, I think.” A patronizing grin snaked across his face, leaving the three summoners shocked and tense, “You can't exorcize me from my body , I built the damned thing and it'd better listen to me and me only .”
“I thought you bastards had to wear a meat suit.” Confusion was written across Dean's face, amidst the tenseness and concealed fear.
“What, you think I'm some new-age demon? It's barbaric, is what it is. Lacks creativity. I've had this body for six thousand years, and I'm not going to start possessing some poor bloke now.”
The hunters were at a loss. They couldn't keep Crowley or his many, many pigeons forever, and they had no idea how to kill him. No demon had acted like this, after all, both in lack of any obvious vulnerability and in temperament. If they'd met him out in the world, Dean probably would have thought he was “awesome”, what with his 90s rocker look and sarcastic humor, but they weren't, and they knew he had to be a demon. Albeit an odd demon, but a demon nonetheless. Maybe interrogation is the next step, try all the ways they can think of to kill him while extracting information.
“Sammy, get the Jesus Juice.” Now that got a reaction out of the demon as he tensed up, pigeons flying from the floors up to the roof around the trap,
“Boyssss we can talk about thisss, right? I'm sure I can help with whatever it is you need,” Crowley's words now came with a hiss, a nervous tick he had yet to break. Such comes with the title of Serpent, “I'm not even much of a demon, really! I'm retired, rebelled against hell sssome-what, 5, 10 yearsss ago?”
“Nice story, Sammy?” Sammy raised his bottle to throw the holy water, and just as he did, Crowley vanished with the sound of fluttering wings, leaving behind three confused hunters and a lot of feathers.
“How the-” looking up, they saw the means of escape. The pigeons that had flown up in Crowley's panic had scratched and pecked a line in the devil's trap, “Fucking flying rats! ”
A coo behind them revealed a straggler, a rather fat pigeon who'd been watching the whole ordeal. Just as Dean cautiously approached the bird, unsure about whether this was some sort of trick, the sound of fluttering wings made a return, the demon having reappeared behind the pudgy bird,
“Right, step away from Coo-per and nobody gets hurt.” Crowley was tempted to leave Coo-per, but he was Warlock's favorite pigeon and Crowley would not stand to see any sort of frown on his face. The hunters all stepped back, far more scared of the demon now that he was supposedly free, as if he hadn't been the whole time. Picking up the plump pigeon, Crowley turned it around to face himself, whispering furiously to the bird, “You're lucky my godson likes you, or I'd have left you to the mean men!”
Coo-per, of course, did not care for much of what Crowley had to say. To add insult to injury, the pigeon pooped on Crowley's shoe, leaving the demon to grumble as they disappeared again, leaving Dean, Sam, and Bobby to stew in their confusion. They could only hope the demon wouldn't return with a vengeance.
What Dean didn't know was that Crowley's version of vengeance was a lot worse than what he'd ever imagined, and had already been enacted as Crowley let the pigeons all over the stunning Impala he saw in the lot before teleporting them all back to London, leaving it covered in feathers, poop, and small scratches.