Crowley meets his Spawn at last.

Aftermath

Crowley woke slowly, surprised to find himself cocooned in blankets. He slowly took stock of his meat suit, pleased to find it whole again. Truthfully he had not really thought he would survive, the whole thing had lasted too long and he'd been far too drained at the end of it, but somehow he'd survived.

He wondered, idly, if the Spawn had as well, or if the brothers had given into their monster killing instincts and slit its throat. He doubted it, they were too soft hearted for that, and the baby was Bobby Singers, in part at least. And the fact that he was still alive counted as well.

The faint sound of the child reached his ears, and with a great deal for effort than he had expected (he was still very drained, and very tired) he forced himself to sit up and take stock of the situation. The Spawn was sitting on the floor, nestled between Growley's paws, looking for all the world like a normal human child of about six months. The human blood had curtailed the demon growth somewhat. The child was gnawing happily away on what looked like the hilt of a knife.

His eyes tracked up from the child to the opposite bed, where Moron sat on the edge, watching him. Crowley couldn't stop the faint smirk when he saw the heavily bandaged hand he had used to remove the child, and the other bite marks he'd no doubt received when trying to lift, or otherwise handle the child.

"He's sort of cute." Moron said suddenly. "When he's not trying to eat me."

"He's hungry." Crowley pointed out.

"Sam's gone to get more milk for him."

Crowley nodded considering. "How long was I out?"

Moron shrugged. "A day."

Crowley forced himself out of the bed, staggered for a moment before straightening; ignoring Moron's curious/suspicious gaze, and made his way to his son. Red eyes blinked up at him from a too human face and the child gurgled happily, reaching out to grab a handful of Crowley's trouser leg and pull itself to its feet shakily. "So you can stand at least." Crowley said with approval, maybe the human blood had not stunted its growth too badly.

The Spawn made an insistent little noise and Crowley found himself bending to lift him up, settling him with surprising ease (given that before now he had never actually held a baby, he had had as little to do with any of the children he had had when he was human, as possible). The knife hilt fell to the floor when Crowley offered his fingers to the small mouth, winching a little as sharp teeth clamped down tightly and began to gnaw and suck happily.

Moron made a face and Crowley smirked, settling himself on his bed again. "Human food alone isn't going to keep him nourished Moron." He grinned sharply. "He is part demon after all."

Moron blanched a bit at that. "You mean he's gonna need-" he made an aborted motion towards the child's already blood smeared face.

Crowley nodded, enjoying the disgust that warred with resignation on Moron's face. "I suggest you start sharpening you knives and cleaning your guns Winchester. He's going to need some fresh meet straight off the bone and bloody for at least the next six weeks."

Moron looked startled, and then angry. "What're you implying here Crowley!"

Crowley shrugged delicately. "It's entirely up to you of course. After all, he is practically family right?" it was said with a knowing gloat, the Winchesters wouldn't turn their back on the child, not even Moron over there. "And while I'm more than happy to go out hunting for him, I'm hardly what you'd call *discerning* in who I kill now am I?"

Moron glared at him hard, and Crowley met his gaze unflinching. Not, of course, that he would go out and needlessly slaughter any humans just to feed the Spawn, he had enough… feelings… left over for Bobby to respect his memory and at least *try* to raise his child right, well… less wrong than he maybe would have done. But Moron here didn't need to know that, and it would be a while before he was back to full strength and he needed the brothers to pick up the slack.

Suddenly Moron's face softened. "We've been calling him Baby Bobby." He offered.

Crowley felt something in him clench at that, but he ruthlessly pushed it away. Feelings like that were best left for times he was alone. "Robert." He said, knowing his tone had slipped into something cold and unyielding.

Moron just nodded, but the rumble of the Impala interrupted whatever he was going to say. Moron got up and left the motel room to help Moose carry in what was probably an over abundance of baby things.

Crowley carefully pulled his chewed and bloody fingers out of Robert's mouth and looked at the little Spawn closely. He wasn't quite sure how all of this was going to play out. But he couldn't find it in him to regret it. Any of it.

Just for a moment, a brief second, he thought he felt a familiar and comforting weight rest on his shoulder and the faint scrape of coarse hair on his ear and just the merest whisper of a kiss right at his hairline. And Robert smiled as he focused on something beside Crowley.

But it was only a moment and then it was gone, and the door of the room was being pushed open, and all thoughts of Bobby Singer were put back to rest. After all, he had the Winchester boys to torment with all the marvellous little things they were going to have to deal with when helping to raise a demon child.

xxx

Should I have mentioned this is based after Bobby died? Ah well... you know now!