A Goodbye

It had been a long time since Crowley had held a soul for so long. The first time since he had held the soul with the intention of handing it back.

For obvious reasons, he couldn't just go back to his soul-pile and leave it there till its time was due. Instead, Crowley had been forced to keep it close to his person. He wove it into his meatsuit so that it wouldn't get lost or left behind in case he had to quickly high-tale out of somewhere.

He hadn't thought how comfortable it would be, so close to his essence.

Most souls he had to deal with were ugly – desperate, greedy, selfish. Once or twice he found someone who wanted the wish for someone else, but those few souls had been infused with anguish and helplessness.

Not Bobby's, apparently. No, Mister Robert 'Bobby' Singer was one unique man.

The soul wasn't desperate – it was strong, almost defiant. 'You can have me, but you don't own me', it seemed to sneer at him.

The soul wasn't greedy – the only thing he could say it thirsted for was knowledge. Knowledge of the supernatural, of all that was Evil in the world. And it wasn't even a knowledge he wanted for himself, but for others.

The soul wasn't selfish. It just wasn't. Normally, a selfless soul would put off any demon, but it only added the soul some spice, just right to make it delicious.

The only blemish on the soul was the pain: barely dealt-with pain of not being able to save his wife, the anguish over those lost to this war, the despair of not being able to walk.

Returning Bobby's legs to him helped alleviate some of the blemish, but the soul was hardly any sweeter. Oh well, not like anything was perfect. It seemed Bobby would never be all sunshine and rainbows.

Which was a good thing. Crowley would hardly find the soul as attractive if it had been drugged up in happiness.

When the deed was done, and Lucifer was back in his little box, Crowley appeared on Bobby's doorstep. He was a demon of his word after all.

As the obligatory snark fest erupted between them, Crowley carefully unwound the soul from himself. When the necessary kiss happened, the demon slowly urged it back into its rightful body. Bid it a farewell, and gave it the last push it needed to leave him alone with his inner darkness. He said goodbye to the amusing defiance, to the selfness thirst, to the pain.

Truth be told, he was reluctant to let it go. He had grown used to it, was almost comforted by its heavy presence. But a deal was a deal, and it was inevitable.

They broke apart, and Crowley nimbly stepped away from the oncoming punch. He looked into Bobby's eyes, and saw all he had let go, all those traits that made Bobby so unique.

Perhaps he should visit the soul once in a while. To say hello to those... 'old friends'.

After all, Bobby wouldn't mind too much. He owed the demon his legs, after all.