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dean winchester's #2345 reason on why he hates demons

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“Huh,” Dean says, staring at the figure in their hastily-made devil’s trap. “That’s not Crowley.”

The demon (at least, Dean’s fairly sure he’s a demon) scoffs. “What are you talking about, of course I’m Crowley. I don’t recognize you fools, though.”

“What?” Sam says, sounding just as confused as Dean feels, because, what. “Are you Crowley or not? Because if you were, you’d recognize us, unless you got hit with, like, demon amnesia or something. Is that a thing?”

“Who cares?” Dean snaps. The supposed-Crowley is glaring at them through his dark sunglasses; he can practically feel the heat of his gaze. “That’s not Crowley. Unless it is and he’s just fuckin’ with us.” He narrows his eyes at other-Crowley, who hisses at him with a forked tongue that makes Sam flinch. “Who the hell are you?”

“You lot are so stupid, what the fuck,” the demon groans, running a hand through his red hair in an agitated motion. “I’ll admit that this is the first time I’ve been caught in a devil’s trap, so at least you’ve got one thing going for you. Not that that’ll keep me from killing you once I get out of here, though.”

Dean’s hand twitches towards their demon knife. The urge to kill this punk is just – growing every second. “Yeah, try and see what happens to you then,” he says, words and tone razor-sharp.

Other-Crowley barely reacts, though; he snarls and attempts to throw himself at them, but as expected, the trap holds. “Fuck,” he swears, and he rips his glasses off his face, glaring at them with- with yellow snake eyes?

“What the fuck?” Sam says, and Dean silently agrees with him. “Why do your eyes look like that?”

“Because I’m a demon?” he says, exasperated, and it’d be funny knowing how much they were annoying yet another demon if Dean wasn’t already so pissed at him. “Whoever you people are, you’re clearly bad at your job, because fucking hell, you have no idea what you’re doing!” He gives a short bark of laughter that’s definitely more angry than it is amused.

“Fuck this, I’m calling Cas,” Dean mutters, flipping Sam off when he gives him a look that says shouldn’t he already be here anyway? He closes his eyes, and a second later the sound of fluttering wings comes from behind them.

“Dean, Sam,” the angel greets in his usual gravelly voice, and his question of, “What’s going on?” is cut off suddenly when he spots their demon prisoner.

Said demon gives a low whistle when his eyes land on Cas, and Dean feels that damn urge to just stab him with that knife rise again. “So you’ve got an angel on call, huh? And Castiel, no less! Haven’t seen you in a millennia or two,” he crows, and now Dean and Sam exchange a look because what the fuck?

“Cas, you know this guy?” Dean says, gesturing at him angrily, and Cas just stares at them, looking extremely caught off-guard.

“Yes, that’s the demon Crowley,” he says slowly, “but how do you know him? Why is he here?”

“We were trying to summon… our Crowley, I guess?” Sam tries to explain, then makes a face. “Ugh, forget I worded it like that. And, I don’t know, this guy appeared instead?”

“A simple fluke, really,” someone else says, and Dean finally gives in and grabs the knife from its place on a nearby table and points it at the newcomer, who’s grinning at them in his usual smug way. “Hello, darlings. I hear you needed me?”

Sam drags a hand down his face. “What is going on?” he stresses, and Dean cuts in with, “Seriously, you bastard, what the hell?”

Real-Crowley steps forward to the edge of the circle, still grinning, and other-Crowley grins back, though his is more feral, more wild. “Crowley!” he exclaims, throwing his hands out and then hissing when he accidentally hits the traps’ walls. Dean lets himself smirk at that despite the current, confusing-as-all-hell situation. “I haven’t seen you in quite some time, either! How’ve you been?”

“Oh, through Hell and back, my dear Crowley,” their Crowley says, laughing at his own dumbass joke. “How ever did you end up here?”

“Because of your stupid mortal friends, that’s why,” other-Crowley says, rolling his eyes, and the action looks really weird because of how… snake-like his eyes are. Dean groans and takes a step back to stand beside Cas, who’s eyeing everybody warily.

“What the hell is happening?” he mutters, waving a hand at Sam to keep an eye on them, and he rolls his eyes and mouths back whatever. “So they’re both named Crowley, then?”

Cas blinks at him. “Yes, I thought that was obvious.”

“Oh my god – you know what I mean! There’s two of them? Why haven’t we heard of the other one, the – the freaky snake-eyed one?”

His angel grimaces. “He’s usually busy being a nuisance in England or harassing my brother Aziraphale,” Cas answers, “or both, as of late. They used to see each other only sometimes, but lately, they’ve been together a lot. Or so I hear.”

“For your knowledge,” other-Crowley calls out suddenly, “Aziraphale actually likes me. Loves me, to be more accurate,” he adds off-handedly, and Dean chokes on his spit because an angel loving a demon? Sure, he knows that Cas and Meg were friends before, but there was never really love, if he remembers correctly. He hopes not, at least.

“That I do,” yet another voice sighs from behind them, and Dean’s only stopped from instinctually stabbing the newcomer by Cas’s hand. He grabs his wrist and lowers it, giving him a look of it’s fine, calm down. Dean huffs but complies, lowering the knife and looking to the voice’s owner.

He’s short and has a shock of white hair, and also looks completely done with everything. “Now, how on earth did you of all demons manage to get captured?” he chides, starting to head to the trap until he sees Cas and stops short. “Castiel?” he gasps, like he’s surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

“I was called,” he says matter-of-factly, and maybe it’s dumb, considering their current situation, but Dean can’t help but feel just the tiniest bit smug that Cas still answers to him and acts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. But whatever. “I assume you’re here for Crowley, then.”

“Which one?” both Crowley’s chorus and then start laughing hysterically. Sam looks back at Dean with regret-filled eyes, and Dean knows that right then they both decide to never willingly call Crowley again – either one, for that matter.

Aziraphale looks up at the ceiling in that Lord give me strength kind of way that Dean’s seen Cas do before. “You know which one,” he says, but there’s slight amusement flickering in his eyes. He turns to Dean, then, and says, “Dean, could you let my husband go, please?”

Dean’s too startled by the word husband to do anything more than look to Cas for his opinion, and Cas just sighs and nods once. Warily, he walks over and rubs out a part of the trap, and other-Crowley practically flies out of the circle, whooping, and really, this is the weirdest demon encounter of Dean’s entire fucking life.

“A demon and an angel are married?” Sam finally utters, eyes huge, and Aziraphale smiles slightly, though he also gives Dean and his brother careful once-overs, which, yeah, Dean can kind of understand since they did accidentally summon and trap his – husband. What the hell.

“Not legally, for certain reasons of course,” Aziraphale admits, reaching out and grabbing other-Crowley’s hand, who replies by kissing him soundly, and Dean looks at Cas again because are all of his siblings just - like this? “But when it really comes down to it, yes. We love each other, so we’re married!”

“Also, we stopped the apocalypse together,” other-Crowley says, grinning proudly, and Sam and Dean exchange matching are you kidding me? looks. “We’re basically bound for eternity!”

Dean resolutely does not look at Cas.

“Well, this is delightful and all,” their Crowley drawls finally, still with that smug-ass look on his face that Dean just wants to knock off, “but I must be going. Hell business, and all.”

“Oh, of course!” Aziraphale says, though he winces at the mention of Hell. “We’d best be off as well. Got a bookstore to run.”

“A bookstore,” Dean says faintly, and Sam rubs at his eyes like he’s finally concluded he’s having a horrific nightmare about British demons and just wants to wake up. “You run a bookstore with your demon husband.”

“Not much else to do after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t,” Crowley admits, then fixes Dean with a nasty look. “Don’t think you or your brother or angel boyfriend are off my shit-list, by the way. I’m not finished with any of you yet, including you, Castiel!”

Cas just sighs heavily over Dean’s splutter of “Boyfriend?!” and Aziraphale whacks his arm. “Dear, don’t be so forward,” he says, though he’s grinning. “Well, we’ll be off!”

The pair silently disappears in the blink of an eye and Dean turns to face the remaining Crowley, raising his knife again. “I really should stab you,” he snaps, and Sam mutters, “I’m almost tempted to tell you to.”

“Boys, don’t be so harsh,” Crowley says, smirking at them. “I’m sure you’ll need my help again in the future.” And then suddenly he’s gone as well, leaving Dean to growl and throw the knife against the far wall in frustration.

“What the hell just happened?” Sam says, picking the knife up and tossing it into their weapons bag to start the clean-up. Just so he can destroy something demon-related, Dean kicks at the devil’s trap, scuffing both the painted mark and his shoe. “Seriously, what the fuck.”

Cas tugs Dean away from the mark and asks lowly, “Are you alright? Crowley didn’t do anything, did he?”

“Which one?” Dean says mockingly, and at Cas’s Look, he just sighs and says, “No, but what does it matter? He’s just a stupid demon.”

“He’s powerful, that’s what,” Cas says, “and clearly out to get us, now. Don’t go summoning demons for the time being, please.”

Dean scoffs and kicks at the trap again. “Yeah, no, fuck that,” he agrees. “I fucking hate demons.”