Crowley is standing at the entrance of Dean's bedroom door, and is staring at the hunter's dead body. Well dead...

Moose is calling him downstairs, certainly ready to sell his soul to save his darling brother's life, it's so predictable. They are both so predictable. So much in love. It could make him throw up but somehow it also... moves him?

"Your brother, bless his soul, is summoning me as I speak. Make a deal, bring you back. It's exactly what I was talking about, isn't it? It's all become so... expected."

He blames it on Winchester DNA.

Ever since Moose has injected him with his poisonous blood, he began to notice things. Things like the fact he doesn't have any friend. That absolutely no one cares about him. Well, a lot of people have wanted to kill him over the centuries but no one, no one would mourn him if he died. On the contrary, some people, many people, might throw a party.

And that, that is a shame.

Because he's a fine fellow. He has good looks, a wicked sense of humor, and tremendous power. He's not constantly whining like that stupid angel, or getting all damsel in distress like Moose so... Who wouldn't like to share a little time with him, huh?


Anyway, this time is over. Because in five minutes, or so, he's going to have his very first friend. His own Frankenstein monster. His new favorite hound.

"You have to believe me. When I suggested you take on the Mark of Cain, I didn't know this was going to happen. Not really. I mean, I might not have told you the entire truth. But I never lied. I never lied, Dean. That's important. It's fundamental."

He read somewhere friends don't lie to each other, and strictly speaking, he didn't.

"But...there is one story about Cain that I might have... forgotten to tell you. Apparently, he, too, was willing to accept death, rather than becoming the killer the Mark wanted him to be. So he took his own life with the Blade. He died. Except, as rumor has it, the Mark never quite let go. You can understand why I never spoke of this. Why set hearts aflutter at mere speculation? "

And why taking the risk of Dean refusing to bear the Mark? Crowley's mother was a witch. And a very, very good one. More wicked than the Wicked Witch of the West, but an excellent technician. And she taught him well back then, when he was still named Fergus. She gave him a knowledge that almost no one has anymore. A knowledge that helped him destroy the Leviathans, and Abaddon, and even Metatron, when Dean wasn't even working for him yet.

"It wasn't until you summoned me... No, it wasn't truly until you left that cheeseburger uneaten...that I began to let myself believe. Maybe miracles do come true."

With Dean by his side, and the Knights of Hell reformed, he can rule the entire world. Heaven is in ruins, then Angels are weakened by God (Ha!) knows what, and he's going to have the most powerful weapon at his service. Dean Winchester, the best hunter he's ever met, is now the bearer of the deadliest blade ever crafted.

He moves to the bed and places the First Blade into Dean's right hand and lays them both on his chest.

"Listen to me, Dean Winchester, what you're feeling right now , it's not death. It's life, a new kind of life"

Crowley wonders if Dean can feel the same excitement he felt when he was born again as a demon. After decades of constant torture, born in blood, screaming at the face of the world I'm going to own you and nothing will stop me.

Him who was born in the gutter.

"Open your eyes"

He sees Dean's hand clutched around the Blade.

"See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon."

Dean opens his eyes. They're dark as night.

Crowley smiles and says

"Good boy."