Astronaut4: Trust issues

Castiel smiled softly as he held Dean's hand in his, just happy to be there.

Are you ready for a fast-forward and f e e l s ?

READY IF YOU ARE!
During that ever-lasting month, some things around the bunker had visibly changed. One, most easy to notice, was Eileen's now stable presence by their side. She was mostly still building her personal spaces - and among four men it wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do - and getting used to be in a group, for once, and not on her own. But as long as she was with Sam, she was eager to adapt to the new situation at her best.
On the other hand, something more subtle, but definitely noticeable, was the fact that Hanakael's thread had been subjected to... weird fluctuations. There were days in which it was as the angel was used to - visible, but faint, as at the other side there was a demon. However, there were certain days in which it was glowing so strong, and so bright, that even Dean could swear he could almost see it.
Whatever it was, the month had ended. The time had come.

"So with the arabian spices, I think we've got everything for your ritual, Hana," Sam finally said, before he took a deep breath."
Hanakael nodded absent-mindedly. "I'd like to thank you for your help. And your hospitality." He gathered the ingredients, and then massaged his pinky where the thread was attached. It was close to becoming an OCD, given how often it was itching.

"No problem", Dean nodded, absent-mindedly himself, as he crossed his arms on his chest. He frowned, his eyes drifting to Hanakael's mindless gesture. He had noticed it during the weeks, and he didn't like it one bit. "I know you'll have to face him, when doing the ritual", he added carefully. "Good luck."

Hanakael looked back at Dean, and took a deep breath. "Thank you." He closed his eyes for a moment, and then disappeared, with all of his ingredients. He just needed the time to mix them, and then he appeared in front of Crowley, ready to use the spell.

"Do you think he'll manage to do it?" Sam ended up asking. He wasn't oblivious to how nervous and depressed Hanakael had been during the last days.

The weird thing was, whenever someone assumed to know where Crowley was, they were generally wrong. And indeed, Hanakael probably would have been surprised by seeing how dreadfully empty the throne room was. Truth be told, the place was still full of grunts and lower demons, but there was no trace of Crowley whatsoever.

Dean took in a deep breath. "I know he has been hurt. And terribly depressed. But he seemed pretty hell-bent on ending this as quickly as possible. So I would say yes." At least he hoped that. With all his heart.

Hanakael frowned, and took out his angel blade. He went into the corridor, and caught the nearest demon by the shoulder, slamming them against the wall. "Where's Crowley?" he asked, almost snarling.

"Do you know if he intended on coming back here or not?" Sam asked, a bit embarrassed at the idea that he didn't ask the angel himself.

The poor demon - a tiny, dark-skinned woman - yelped in pain as she got slammed on the wall. She blinked, trying to get free from the strong grasp, but without success. Finally just who had manhandled her so rudely came to her, and her eyes widened in fear in front of Hanakael's expression. "I- I don't know! No one knows!", she squealed, still struggling. "He left two weeks ago!"

Dean scratched his chin, seemingly embarrassed too. "I... don't really know.", he admitted. "Cas? You know anything?"

"... Two weeks ago? Have you idiots tried to find him since?" Hanakael glared at that poor demon. He was beginning to think that Crowley had probably chickened away, knowing that he was about to do that ritual, and, well. Kill him.

Castiel shook his head. "He hasn't talked once about seeking Heaven's approval again. I'll try to contact him as soon as we know that Crowley is dead. If that ever happens."

The woman seemed to get back a bit of that don't-get-no-shit attitude typical of demons. She lifted her chin defiantly. "Sorry, but we idiots have this thing called will to live", she said snobbishly. "We didn't exactly question him, since he had become so snappy and prone to outbursts. Well, more than usual. We were specifically instructed not to look for him, if we didn't want to become chew toys for our... hellish kennel." A shiver went through her body at the thought. "Our King is very imaginative with his punishments. He gave us lasting orders. He left. We stayed. That's it."

Dean sported a worried expression at that 'if'. "Well, I guess we just... have to wait. Again", he added finally, after a moment of thoughtful silence. Then he clapped his hands together. "So! Who wants dinner?"

Hanakael frowned, and thought about all of that a bit. Then, he laid his palm on the demon's forehead to kill her, without a single bit of remorse. Crowley's last actions were... peculiar, to say the least. He looked down at his thread, and decided to follow it, for once. After all, he'd find Crowley at the other end one day or another.

Sam held back a smile. "Please tell me this is something else than burgers, for once." He loved Dean's burgers, that was not the problem. But it was becoming kind of redundant, and he didn't want Eileen to get diabeties or cholesterol because of his brother's cooking habits.

If Hanakael had decided to follow his thread just like Dorothy had followed the road of yellow bricks - after vaporizing the demon, of course -, he would have seen that actually, since Crowley wasn't moving from his current location, it wouldn't have been that difficult to find him like the hiding, lying rat he was.
With his current location being a motel in the outskirts of Los Angeles, apparently.

"It's pasta", Dean answered, apparently offended that Sam didn't want to eat his burgers seven on seven. "If you are done complaining silently about my health choices can we go eat now?" He made sure to sound extra touchy.

Hanakael followed the yellow bri- I mean followed his thread until that specific motel. He didn't knock on the door of Crowley's room. In fact, he appeared behind it, and looked around the room, blade in hand, to see if somebody would be waiting for him.

Sam held back a chuckle. "Alright, alright. Do you need some help?"
"I convinced Dean to try a few more recipes," Castiel signed to Eileen. "I'm concerned about his cholesterol."

The room appeared... well. As any room of a second-rate motel would have been. Not squeaky clean but not terribly dirty either, not really lived in or particularly homey, but not abandoned either. The only thing Dorot- I mean Hanakael could have noticed while standing in the small hall of the room could have been the discarded, broken pieces of glass that littered the floor, as if someone had fought against the mirror that was hanging from the wall. Which was all kinds of shattered, as a matter of fact.
The silence of the room was only broken by deep, ragged breaths that seemed to come from the bedroom, behind another closed door.

"Yeah. Move your ass over here and give me a hand with the sauce", Dean said as he walked to the kitchen.
Eileen chuckled silently. "I thought you healed him on a regular basis. Is his cholesterol becoming so strong that not even angel grace can fight against it?", she signed to Castiel with a smile.

Hanakael frowned, and steadied the grip on his blade, before he walked carefully to the bedroom, and slightly pushed the door to take a peek inside, wary of anything that might happen to him. He was still convinced there should be demons waiting for him, to attack him.

Sam nodded and followed Dean into the kitchen, to help him with the pasta sauce. He had to hide his smile, though, for he had followed the beginning of Castiel and Eileen's conversation.
Castiel held back a soft chuckle. "It's a daily fight. I'd like him to take better care of himself, so I can keep my powers for potential serious injuries."

Hanakael was wrong in thinking there would be an army waiting for him behind that door. As a matter of fact, there was but one single demon in there, and not in the conditions to fight.
The image in itself was pitiful, to say the least. Crowley's chest was slowly rising and falling, following the deafening rhythm of his tired breaths. His face told all about how much he hadn't been taking care of himself over those weeks. His shirt was half unbuttoned and dirty, his tie barely knotted, and his arms lied helplessly at his sides. The sleeves were rolled up, giving space to a sickening show of needle-induced darkened spots. Used syringes were scattered all over the floor near the bedside table. He barely aknowledged that someone had entered the room.

Dean, luckily for them, had literally no clue what they were talking about, as he was too busy with having the water boil right.
Eileen shook her head. "Maybe he could start healing himself, since he has his own grace. That wouldn't be a bad idea."

Hanakael went through a lot of emotions when he was able to witness that scene. Confusion, worry, fear, pain were some of them. He stepped into the room without really thinking. How long had Crowley been like that? Why did he ever end up like this in the first place? If anything, he'd have almost thought this was a setup but- he knew the demon enough to know that it was impossible for him to fall so low. "Crowley?" he whispered, as he made his way near the bed. He was too concerned right now to notice that he didn't even properly see the demon's true face anymore.

Castiel shrugged. "Eating healthy food is a better idea to me. As his soulmate, I have to eat his food," he ended up joking kindly.

Crowley barely opened his eyes when he heard Hanakael calling his name. He glanced at him, squinting as if he was having difficulties recognizing him, breathing still shallow and fatigued. "You've come to end me, at last." His voice... didn't sound like his own at all. It was tired. Resigned. Rough, as if he had screamed until his throat was raw and sore. And it held a hint of unbearable, bare sadness, that just didn't belong to him. He went back looking at the ceiling, blinking, and sighed. He didn't make a single gesture to get up. "You know where to aim. Don't miss."

Eileen nodded. "I get what you are saying", she replied. "It's amazing how two brothers that grew up joined at the hip are just so different, don't you think?"

A lot of questions were running through Hanakael's mind. If Crowley knew and couldn't bear the idea of him doing his ritual, why didn't he cut the thread on his own, to protect himself? Did he do this to himself? Why would he put himself in such a state? Why didn't he try to trap him? Why-
He stopped thinking, and even tucked his blade away, as he sat on the bed, to run a hand into Crowley's hair. He felt awful. Guilty. Ashamed of what he had pushed the demon to do. "What happened to you, Crowley?" he whispered, as he looked at the marks on his body.

Castiel nodded. "Yes." He looked at Dean, and smiled softly. "But I like things that way."

Crowley flinched when he felt that somewhat gentle hand touch his hair. "Why would you ask", he answered flatly. "You won't listen to a single thing I'll say. You won't believe me. You don't even believe our bond affects me. Not as much as it affects you, anyway." His gaze wandered at his side. The naked yearning he had in his eyes as he looked at the half-emptied, used syringes on his bedside table was beyond sickening. "Oh, I had swore to myself. Never again. To be this weak is just-" He sighed. "Instead, I am a wreck. Again."

Eileen smiled softly, glancing at Sam. "Yes. Me too", she simply signed, proceeding to sit down at the table.

"Why did you do that to yourself?" Hanakael frowned slightly. "Is that- human blood?" He thought about it for a moment. As he had begun to assume, Crowley was currently as close to a human as he could be. Did it mean he could- He looked down at his sting marks, and bit his lower lip.

(They cute!!)

"Oh, yes it is. I am a junkie", Crowley laughed, joylessly. "All I did in this past month - all I did, after I couldn't reach for you, nor find it in myself to reach for you, was to get back on stuffing myself so full with human blood I could almost taste it on my tongue. And then I laid down. Wallowed in depression and self pity. And waited for the sweet release of Death - which I hope is what you brought to this bloody party."

"..." Something inside Hanakael broke. He looked at Crowley for a few more seconds, and he closed his eyes for a moment, as he laid two fingers on Crowley's forehead. Although, surprisingly, he didn't do that to kill him, but rather heal his vessel fully. He couldn't do anything about the blood 'poisoning', though.

Crowley blinked, his face finally showing an emotion different from utter tiredness - surprise - as he felt his vessel's puncture wounds and bruises heal in a matter of seconds. It didn't really do anything about how wrecked he still looked. Or felt. He glanced to Hanakael, drawing his eyebrows together. "Don't sell me your pity", he spat sitting up, anger dominating him now. "Don't come here and pretend to care when nobody - my own mother, my son - ever did! When you have dreaded this", he pointed at their thread, "since the very first moment you saw it. You want to take it away from me. You want to cut it off, you hate it, even if I-" His voice failed miserably, instead breaking in what sounded like a pitiful whine.

Hanakael looked calm on the surface but deep down, he was on edge. "Even if what?" he asked Crowley, his voice low, barely shaking. A great part of him wished, hoped he would get an answer that would make him forget his resolution to kill him. To end their bond once and for all.