[Crowley listens. That, in itself, is a start. He understands. Paradisa made it a habit of bringing that part out of him. Revelled in it. And people always died. Sometimes people he actually cared about died. He's still amazed South will go anywhere near him. He knows, even if they are almost back to how they were, there will always be something there. A quiet, horrible reminder in the back of her head that she sleeps with a demon. A real demon from Hell, and all that entails. ]

You don't have me figured out as much as you think. [The edge is gone, his tone is calm, collected. ] Yeah, I'm not like them. I can do things beyond even their most dark and desperate nightmares. Things they could never think I'd be capable of.

But. [And this is important. ] I'm also the opposite of that.

[His wings don't appear, but there's a shift in the air, a flicker of light. They aren't there, but the suggestion of them is. ]

I'm also capable of more goodness than they could ever be aware of, that I'll let them be aware of. Just like I can strangle them in shadows, I can bathe them in light. I can take away their strength or give it to them tenfold. I can bless them as easily as I can curse them.

[The suggestion is gone. Now it's just Crowley. What he is. The purposefully created blend of Heaven and Hell. Something that's both and neither. Something that is a being all of his own. Almost human, but nothing like one. Just him. ]

So I'll say it again. I'm not taking part in whatever retaliation you're planning. Because it's them who'll get hurt, and I threw in my chips with them a long time ago.

[From the Beginning, really, even if he couldn't admit it back then. ]