ataraxion | Voice to Castiel

There's a reason for each of us being here. Most appear to disregard my Father's hand in this.

[Because no matter what anyone else says, he's always going to be convinced that God chose each of them to be sent to the ship. He wouldn't have allowed it otherwise.]

What were your terms? How long did you give him, and what did you offer in return?

Now why would the dealing of souls be an interest to you, angel?

It was a fair trade, if that's what you're getting at. He knew what he was getting into.

[There's a longer delay here. He could just go with the "it's my duty to protect" deal, but if they're meant to be coming to some sort of a truce, he doesn't plan on using any lies he knows won't stand up for long.]

There are a limited number of people aboard this ship. Making deals throughout your time here isn't an option.

[Another pause.]

And there are those here who aren't to be touched.

Castiel, you know as well as I do that power doesn't come from nowhere. Heaven and Hell don't feel so close as they were, do they?

[ There's a pause. ]

You know how much a soul can do. Don't think I didn't know about you siphoning off some of the gas tanks here. That's who you mean by 'can't be touched', isn't it?

[ It's hard to keep the purr out of his tone. ]

I understand why you did it. To protect them all from those naughty lost souls. But there seems to be a new trouble brewing on the horizon...

And you're all out of juice, aren't you? I hope this time isn't worse than the last.

My Grace is none of your concern.

[The snap there is harsher than usual. His Grace will always be a sensitive subject, and has been since the moment he was first cut off from Heaven. His gradual slide to humanity is a time he doesn't plan on revisiting, whether there's a reason to use his Grace on this ship or not.]

Just tell me what you want, Crowley.

Ohh, touchy.

[ It's absolutely his concern. One of his biggest concerns, in fact. Crowley needs to stay a step above and ahead of the angel at all times because, as far as he's seen it, Castiel is the biggest threat against him on this ship, second only to whatever puppet master put them both on it.

Considering what Cas did the last time he had power over the demon's head... Well, Crowley learns from his mistakes. And plans to reap the benefits of having Castiel repeat his. ]

Alright, then.

I want to leave. To do that, I'm going to need a few volunteers to help me out.

I want to put up a lemonade stand.

[Despite Crowley's wording, it doesn't take much to understand just what he's after this time. His immediate response would be a refusal; to state, point blank, that he isn't allowed to make any more deals here. But the idea of being able to find a way back still rings clear above it all. As much as he wants to believe he was brought to this ship for a reason, he'd still prefer to go back home and deal with his real duty.]

You want your freedom to make deals. But in order to do that, you need me to keep from interfering. [Pause.] Why should I do that? [Or rather, what would you offer in return, Crowley?]

[ Good, good. He didn't use words too big, so he knew you'd catch on a bit sooner. Alright, that's not particularly fair but... ]

Tell me, how did Dean take it when you told him you were going to shave a bit off the tops of a few souls?

You... did tell him, didn't you?

[If he wasn't uncomfortable before, he definitely is now. The other people on this ship, Dean included, have no idea just how important souls really are. They don't know their true power. But he does. And so does Crowley. So this isn't a conversation he wants to be having with the demon.]

Dean isn't my keeper. He doesn't need to be made aware of every action I take.

[ You can't always get what you wanna, Castiel. Chin up, though, because it hasn't all been smooth sailing for Crowley either. You had to deal with demons, he had to deal with demons. And the only thing that's been keeping him from throwing a royal tantrum over how very shitty things have been going for him is that almost no one knows who he is, much less what. Seeing as there'd be a notable difference in the angel's tune if he knew how a soul could really matter, Crowley is willing to bet he's got that advantage over Castiel too, at least partially. Survival is a nasty game, but he'll play it. ]

Mm. See, now, I don't think Dean would agree with that. He likes a tight leash, I've noticed.

I also don't think he'd understand. To him, it'd just look like, well, what it is - you shaving years off of someone's life for power. Not unlike a demon, really. Worse, maybe, seeing as you took them right up front.

[ A pause. ]

The Winchesters understand very little, for all their bravado. And when they don't understand it, they kill it.

Don't they?

[While he may not be taking time from those he siphoned power from, he can't disagree. To either brother it'd look bad. It isn't as though he bothered to explain himself to Dean ahead of time. And a part of him already knows why he didn't offer that explanation first. Sometimes it's easier to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission. Besides, the end really did justify the means, didn't it?]

Dean and Sam are my friends. They wouldn't turn on me. And if you think any differently, you're severely underestimating them.

[ Crowley can't quite help it: He chuckles. It's a short-lived sound, low and almost inaudible, but telling. Because he pulled you out of the holy fire, Castiel, and he remembers the look. How they'd crushed you under their heel, just like that. Nevertheless, even with the abandonment, Castiel came when he was called. Pitiful, really. ]

Sam and Dean had a lot of friends. Had.

[ And now most of them are in the ground or dust in the wind. ]

But I only know what I've seen. And if you really believed yourself, you'd have told them by now.

So here's my offer - you don't tell on me, and we never have to find out who's right.

As I stated before, they don't need to be made aware of every action I take.

[Though the fact it's for the very reasons that Crowley's stated goes left unsaid. He can't deny something so obvious.]

There are currently seventeen people on this ship that you will not touch.

Edited (I can count. honest) 2012-06-02 09:11 (UTC)

Seventeen? Oh my.

Let me get a pen.

[ Beat. ]

Alright.

[There's a long wait. Making this list could potentially paint a target on each of their backs. But at the same time, any break in this deal means that Castiel would have all the right to dispose of Crowley permanently. He just needs to make sure there aren't any loopholes that the demon can slip through.]

All three Winchesters. A woman who goes by the name Aberdeen. Neal Caffrey. Re-l Mayer. Alex Summers, the first to arrive. Jane Foster. Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones. Jim Kirk and Tommy Conlon. Alayne Stone and Robb Stark.

[A brief pause here. While not everybody on that list are people he siphoned from, the last few are. And none of them happen to be entirely human.]

Spock. Mason Lockwood. And a Wraith who has no name.

[ Indeed, they'll be people Crowley pays attention to. Maybe not wholly in the way Castiel intended. Three Winchesters - that gets an unseen pause. Naturally his instinct is to think of John Winchester, but he'd surely have seen Papa Bear, wouldn't he? ]

Fair enough.

A wraith, you said? The odd man out. How was that?

Uncomfortable.

[And he sounds it too. While the Wraith's soul was suitable, the idea of taking energy from a creature as obviously not human as that felt unnatural to him.]

It's not an experience I wish to repeat.

Interesting.

[ He sounds like he might mean it, too. Crowley's never taken an inhuman soul either. All monsters go to Purgatory. ]

Well, when the needs will it, I suppose we all need to be up for a little experimenting.

Seventeen no-service clauses and a vow of silence. Is that what I've got?

Seventeen, with room to expand.

[Because he knows it's only a matter of time before he'll have to add more donors to the list, whether he wants to or not.]

And I want to be informed of each deal you make. Names, at the very least.

I don't like competition.

[ But he does sound amused, Castiel. He knew it. You've had a taste and you want more, don't you? Oh, but for the good of all, of course. Of course. ]

But I don't doubt you'll have some bleeding hearts clamoring at your gates. So maybe I can do you one better.

I'm the only marketeer and I... will slice you off a piece of the pie.

[There's an angry response bitten off before it can be aired. A comment that he isn't damning souls by siphoning from them. That he's better than a demon. But if he wants this deal to be worked out, he knows he can't act that way. He needs to keep a level head and make sure every detail works out in his favor.

Which would be much easier if Crowley spoke in plain English.]

What does pie have to do with this?

Oh, for fucksakes, Cas -- It's called a metaphor. Art is really lost on angels, isn't it?

[ Throwing his hands up over here. Not like this was his best turn of phrase, but it was an easy one. ]

I'll give you a portion off the souls I collect.

[ And then he repeats himself, in Enochian, for posterity. ]

Why?

[His own annoyance is gone now and replaced with curiosity. Of all the things Crowley could have meant, this was the last thing he expected.]

You know how powerful souls are, so why would you offer me any?

Because I don't like hands in my cookie jars.

[ Pause. Siiigh. ]

'Off-limits' is not something I like to do. Look, another boatload of dummies are going to come bobbing their way into this rig every month, yeah? I don't need to keep track of you and them, so divvying up the souls is a two in one.

That, and we're working together now, toward a mutual benefit. I can't have you be a sack of pudding if I need you.

[ He wants that noose around your neck, Castiel. Good and tight. ]

Half. And the list remains off-limits.

[It's the protection of those who have already helped him that comes first. But with Crowley's own offer on the table, he can't help but bite. More power, and with no effort made. It also leaves Crowley off his back and his secrets kept between the two of them. He can't see anything wrong with that.]

It still stands at seventeen with room to grow.

You'll get as much as you would have dared off the rest of them - ten percent.

[ His voice is tight, because there's a sudden strike of rage in him. He knows what half means to you, bucko. Oh no. ]

And if you dip your hands into the pool, this deal is off. I'll give you seventeen - the rest make their own fates.

Half, plus the option to add more. And in exchange, I'll add half off anything I collect.

Otherwise, the deal is off, and you'll discover first hand just how much of my Grace is still intact.

[ A dual effort, one to appeal to the virtuous, the other to appeal to the sinful and desperate. And half going to him. It's a good deal, and Castiel has no idea how much Crowley's power has grown since he took a dive into the public water system and let loose the Leviathans. If Cas screws him over this time, he might have an advantage. Might.

Crowley likes a sure thing, though.

There's a quiet moment. He's gauging the threat, the possibility of a bluff, and trying to think of something a bit less risky. ]

I'm going to need it in writing.

Then I suggest you start writing.

[Because he wants this done with if it means making sure that Crowley can't start spilling secrets everywhere. And for the protection of those who've helped him too, of course.]

Shall I bring it by, or would you like to meet somewhere with an appropriate ambiance?

The cargo bay.

[Because there's no way he's doing this closer to home.]

See you there.

[ The line cuts. No doubt he's stepping between to reach his destination. Still, it'll take him a couple minutes before he steps into the cargo bay. It's all dark clothing and coat, as per usual. He's managed an actual contract, English and Latin and, now, a footnote of Enochian. And he's twirling a steak knife between the fingers of one hand. Something from the kitchen, nothing too harmful.

Old contract, old method of signing. Hope you don't mind, Cas. ]

[It takes him a few minutes to turn up, his delay caused by paranoia. Instead of heading directly to the cargo bag, Castiel made a couple of stops along the way. He doesn't expect anyone to be following him, but conspiring just who he's going to meet he isn't going to take any chances.

When he does turn up, he stays stood to the side; in a corner hidden from view from the main pathway. He knows that Crowley will be able to find him regardless.]

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