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[ Just like that, he's back in Wonderland and memories come flooding back. This is the first time he's truly left and come back and it's even more jarring than he'd expected.

For a moment, he just looks around his room, examining things and checking that all of his belongings are just where he left them. When he gets to his dresser, he pauses at the drawer with the false bottom. It's not until his fingers are sliding over the little vials of blood that he registers what he's doing and he slams the drawer shut with an angry bang.

Then he finally steps outside of his room and into the floating void that contains chunks of Wonderland. ]

Bollocks.

[ video ]

[ He pulls out his device with a sort of haste reserved for near-death experiences. ]

Not sure how long I've been gone, but you seem to have gone to pieces without me.

[ Oh, he is hilarious, isn't he? ]

Is anyone out there or is this some sort of cosmic irony? Because irony's only funny when it's not happening to me.

[ Private message to Sam Winchester and Castiel ]

Boys, I'd like a word if you're still alive.

[ Private message to Blake ]

I need to talk to you.

[ action ]

[ And then he sets about floating himself from chunk to chunk and looking for signs of life as he waits for a response that may never come. On each new chunk of mansion, he walks with a caution that speaks of endless possibilities--none of them good. This could be an event, but it could also be the end. For all he knows, he's even further along than the people who came back from the future. ]

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[ Crowley's first instinct is to be angry. No one even noticed that he was gone and Blake's acting like some war widow when they all know that most of them come back after a while. Dean always comes back even back in their world. What is Blake so worried about?

Then he actually thinks about Blake's words and he sighs. This is a test. Blake doesn't mean for it to be, but it is. ]

No one's bothered to mention that.

[ He moves closer and tries to rest a hand on Blake's shoulder. ]

I'm sorry.

[ He purses his lips. ]

In the year I was gone... I'm working with Dean again. He'll be back. He always comes back.

[ Comfort isn't exactly a skill Crowley's bothered to hone. He's not sure if he's saying the right thing or not. Bitterness aside, he knows that Blake cares about Dean and as angry as that makes him, he's starting to see that he needs to put a pin on that if he wants to show that he does actually care about Blake.

He ignores the flare of jealousy and instead focuses on the fact that Blake needs something and Crowley is going to figure out what it is, even if it really can't come from him. ]

[ The hand on his shoulder earns Crowley a look. He makes the same mistakes over and over again, doesn't he? But John doesn't warn away the contact, only shrugs from beneath it when enough time has passed so as not to offend the demon's delicate sensibilities. ]

Not worried 'bout that. [ Blake's confident Dean will return. ] But there's a lot goin' on.

[ Space, remember? Space. He's maintained that throughout this conversation, so maybe now that Crowley's making an attempt, he'll understand Blake's meaning.

(Truthfully, though, there's a lot of emotion there, and when he's stressed and hurting and busy, there's no avoiding it.)

He runs a hand through his hair, emotionally and physically exhausted at this point. ]

He does a lot 'round here. Someone's gotta pick up the slack...

[ Crowley understands space, but he's also quite sure that he's looking at someone who shouldn't be left alone. He lets his hand drop. ]

Let me help you.

[ He clenches his fists. ]

Or I won't if you really don't want me to. I'll find you someone else to help, but you can't do everything on your own and I'm not leaving you alone right now. You need someone.

[ Even if it's not Crowley. He hates himself for just how much he wants it to be him. His fingers itch to touch Blake again.

Looking away, he takes a deep breath. ]

Tell me who to get. I'll bring them here or I'll bring you to them. Whatever you want.

[ Christ, he's tired. And one very small part of him wants this attention, even if he is a fairly private man that can easily take care of himself (on all the levels required to survive, at least). But he misses out on so much, and for what?

The last time he'd lost someone so important to him, it had been his father. The aftermath of his murder put Blake right into a place where he needed the help, but he didn't want it. For years — near decades — that same mentality followed him. And it wasn't until Dean came along that he could really believe in the power of other people again. And now that Winchester's gone — not murdered, but close enough — this appears to be no different, save for that one tiny, miniscule urge to just break down and let it all out. Like each time the cracks get more pronounced until finally, eventually, he'll just shatter and never find his way back together.

A shaky hand lifts and he scrubs at his forehead, eyes sliding closed. ]

Think I just wanna... sit here a while. [ Which is a counter to what he'd just said about picking up the slack, but he's hoping Crowley will get why. He hadn't had motivation before the demon showed up, and despite the flare of emotions that had him up and moving, the truth is, he doesn't want to do much of anything at the moment. He'd sleep it off if there was a bed around, but alas, it's just one big, flat, empty surface. ]

That's what I want. [He finally turns his eyes to Crowley, likely to impress his point a little more firmly. ]

Stay or go, whatever, but I— I-I just need to... to stop. For a minute or two. [ Or, you know, years, if trends are anything to take into account. ]

Then sit, Blake.

[ Some of the tension drains out of Crowley. He's worried, but it's not the same now. He's not feeling attacked or backed into a corner. There's no reason for him to be on the defensive now. ]

And I'll sit with you and I won't talk if you don't want me to.

[ He moves closer, stopping just short of Blake's personal space. He's so unsure now and that lack of confidence isn't quite plain, but it's there for anyone who knows him enough to go looking. Scaring Blake off is the last thing he wants when Blake's finally opened up to him and he wants Blake to understand that Crowley trusts him more than anyone else. ]

I can learn to listen.

[ As Crowley finishes, Blake closes his eyes again and nods slowly. He doesn't feel any better about Crowley's presence, but at least he doesn't feel pressured to move on; at the moment occupying this space is about all he can do.

He takes a seat back on the hardwood, draws his knees up, and curls around himself. It's an arguably vulnerable looking position when he presses his head down, burying it in his arms where they rest on his knees, and if he actually trusted Crowley as little as this conversation suggested, he wouldn't be in that position. He knows nothing's going to happen, not here and now, not after everything they'd just screamed at each other.

Belatedly, he does lift his head enough to mutter. ]

You'd better learn, 'cause you suck at it.

[ Strangely enough, it's much more a jab than it is a criticism, perhaps pointing out an end to Blake's uncommon emotional outburst. ]

I know.

[ He comes to sit next to Blake, leaving a few safe inches between them, even when his first instinct is to touch Blake and see if he wouldn't be better at the physical aspects of comfort than the verbal ones.

His hands rest at his sides, but the one closest to Blake twitches periodically as if it wants to move around Blake's shoulders of its own accord. ]

You deserve better.

[ That comment is about more than just Crowley's listening skills, but he doesn't care. Blake does deserve better, but Crowley's far too selfish to move on just because of that.

In his heart, Crowley knows that he doesn't deserve Blake and that he doesn't deserve any sort of forgiveness, but he wants it. There are times when the blood makes him feel good, but there are also times like this where he feels hollow and desperate and some small part of him knows that he's punishing himself by doing this.

Maybe he even ruined their friendship to punish himself. ]

I'm sorry.

[ What is it about rotten situations that makes them feel so much worse when someone's sympathizing? Blake doesn't know what exactly Crowley's sorry for — his listening ability, or his involvement overall — but it tightens his chest all the more when he hears it.

Fuck, which way is up anymore? He feels like he's caught in this wash of powerful surf and no matter which way he turns, there's no real indication of which way he's got to go if he ever wants to surface for air. ]

Yeah... me too.

[ Truer words have yet to be spoken by Blake. He's sorry about a lot of things, up to and including what seems like the end for many friendships he'd once had (too much) hope for. ]

[ Crowley doesn't get much in the way of apologies from anyone, so even if Blake's is vague, he's not going to agonize over it. Instead he'll focus on the fact that after everything, Blake cares enough to apologize for anything at all.

It gives him a sense of hope and he hates that as much as he lets himself cling to it.

This time when his hand twitches, he gives in just a little. Slowly, he moves his hand up to rest it on Blake's elbow, giving Blake ample time to swat it away or shift away or say something to stop it, because the last thing he wants is to set him off again. ]

I know you want to help everyone, but even Clark Kent has to sleep some time. You can't help anyone if you're not cared for, yourself.

[ Blake cares too much, that much is obvious. He finds himself concerned more and more and more with the welfare of those around him, and at some point, it just got away from him. Now he's in way over his head and he doesn't know how to resurface.

The obligations? Those are his own. Even if he hasn't put on any kind of mask in months, he's saddled himself with too much. Not for the first time, he wonders how Bruce was able to do any one part of his job, let alone all the parts that are involved with being a symbol.

It's too much. For one man with one year of real training, it's just too much, but it isn't as if he has any kind of exit strategy prepared, even if he could stop.

So he just nods instead, intent on giving Crowley the answer he wants to hear if it means they don't have to do much more talking beyond this. ]

[ Crowley squeezes Blake's elbow, keeping his hand there for as long as it seems to not actively bother Blake. He can tell that this is Blake asking him to stop taking and he will. He can listen. It can't be that hard, right?

So he just sits there, close to Blake but not too close, ready to do whatever Blake needs.

He knows that Blake doesn't agree. He's utter shit at taking care of himself from what Crowley can tell and Crowley's going to pick up the slack if Blake will let him. Someone has to and Crowley doesn't trust anyone the way he trusts himself.

Maybe picking up that slack won't fix anything, but Crowley isn't the sort of man to give up right away. ]

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