The Pony Who Would Be King {Supernatural x MLP}

Dean gazed out the train window, his head propped on his hoof. A saddlebag sat beside him, filled to the brim on both sides. The weight it put on his back made him wish he was a unicorn like his brother.

But he had always been cursed to be more like his father. At least fate had given Sam a chance.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean jumped and turned to face the pony that was now across from him. The pale brown color of his fur was a heavy contrast from the black of his wings. A trench coat hung around his body.

Dean sighed and put his hoof to his chest, waiting for his heart to slow. “Cass.”

Castiel tilted his head curiously to the side. “Are you alright?”

Dean cleared his throat and let his hoof rest again. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. What about you?”

“I just wanted to check in,” Cass replied.

Dean nodded, looking out the window again. “So, any news on Nightmare Moon Jr?”

Castiel looked down uneasily. “I’m looking, believe me.” He turned his gaze to the window, and Dean heard the slight shuffle of his wings. “I just don’t understand how Crowley could’ve tricked me.”

“Well, he’s a tricky son of a bitch.” Dean looked back at his friend. He could sense the tension and Cass’s discomfort. Dean could diagnose it as nothing more than guilt and disappointment. Castiel was an angel, he was bound to have a drop in his ego after such a mistake.

Dean knew a lot about that.

“Doesn't matter,” he continued, reaching out for his friend. “But if he is up and kicking, then what does matter is finding him, ripping his head off, and shoving it up his ass.”

Cass looked down as Dean’s hoof touched his foreleg, then looked up at Dean. Dean offered a smile. Cass didn’t return it. “What about you? Have you found anything?”

Dean pulled his hoof away and sighed, his smile fading. “No, not yet.”

Cass scanned the train. Dean was the only pony on, aside from a mare sleeping in the back of the train. “Where’s Sam?”

“He’s keeping busy,” Dean replied, reaching for his saddlebag and pulling out a journal. “He’s hunting a Djinn in Canterlot as we speak. I’m on my way to meet him.”

Castiel looked at the journal in Dean’s hooves. A spark of dark blue magic came from his head, and Cass winced in pain.

Dean frowned. Cass rubbed his head, ruffling his mane just enough to be able to see the tip of his broken horn.

“I often forget I no longer have my horn,” he admitted. “I know it’s been gone for a long time but…”

“Hey, you’re older than any of us,” Dean said comfortingly. “Habits are bound to be harder to break for you.”

Dean held out the journal for Cass to grab.

“I’m trying to retrain my magic,” Castiel said as he took the journal. “If Luna could do it-“

“Luna was training with dark magic long before her horn was broken,” Dean reminded Cass. “That magic isn’t hers.”

Cass opened the journal and flipped through the pages. He stopped on a page with a drawing of a pony-like creature. Castiel eyed the picture for a while, running his hoof over it.

“Well, I hope you have silver and lamb’s blood ready,” he said at last, closing the journal and passing it back to Dean. Dean took it and stuck it back into his saddlebag.

“You can bet your ass I do.”

Cass returned his gaze to the window, his eyes following the passing trees and structures. “I’d come if I could.”

“Yeah, no, I-I get it,” Dean reassured him. “No worries. But, Cass, you'll call, right? If you get into real trouble?”

Cass looked at Dean, and then there was the ruffle of wings. In an instant, the angel was gone. Dean perked up, his eyes scanning the area for his friend. “Cass?”

He glanced back and met the eyes of the mare, who was now awake and staring at him with a brow raised. Dean’s ears fell back against his skull.

“I, uh- I wasn’t talking to myself. I’m not crazy.”

The mare shook her head. “You need a therapist, dude.”

The pony looked away, and Dean spit out one last quiet, “I’m not crazy.”

A dark pony with bat-like wings was leaning over a metal table, inspecting a body. Another pony was tied up, thrashing furiously. Castiel warily approached the pony.

“Howdy partner,” Crowley said without looking up.

Cass leaned over Crowley’s shoulder. The body of a light yellow unicorn mare with a contrasting dark mane lay on the table, laying on her back. Her stomach was cut open for Crowley’s inspection, along with her scalp being removed. “What have you found?”

“I’ve found a lot of things,” Crowley replied, propping his hooves up on the table. “For example, Eve’s brain? Dead as a tinned kipper. And yet…”

Crowley reached into the cut in Eve’s stomach, digging into her insides. When his hoof came out, he was holding a pile of eggs. “For some reason, she keeps laying eggs. And watch this.”

Crowley dropped the eggs back into Eve’s stomach. He grabbed a poker from nearby and placed it onto the dead pony’s brain. An electric jolt was sent into the brain. The tied up pony seized violently. Castiel watched curiously as Crowley chuckled.

“Batula here feels every tickle,” Crowley announced, tossing the poker aside.

“What does that mean?” Cass pressed.

Crowley shrugged dismissively. “I have a few theories, but none of them are good until I do some more work.”

Castiel sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You said Eve could open the door to Purgatory.”

“Correct. I did. And I’m confident that she could.” Crowley turned on Cass, his wings flaring and gaze narrowed. “If she were still alive!”

Cass wiped the spit that had flown from Crowley’s mouth off of his face as the demon began to circle him. “Our single best chance to get over the rainbow, and the Winchesters killed her!”

“It was unavoidable,” Cass said calmly.

Crowley laughed bitterly and stopped in front of him. “You screwed up, Cass,” he snarled. “You let your little hounds mangle our dove, and now my wings are bound.”

Castiel met Crowley’s accusing gaze. “What is your point?” he asked lowly.

“My point is; you’re distracted. And that worries me.”

Crowley fluttered his wings and lashed his tail. Castiel hissed in frustration. “I’m holding up my end,” he argued.

“Are you?” Crowley shot back. “Are you, Castiel? The stench of the train is all over you. I thought we agreed - no more nights out with the boys.”

Cass flared his wings. “I had to speak to Dean,” he snapped. “I had to find out what they know.”

“About what?” Crowley shouted. “About me? Cause I happen to have it on good authority that your two little pets are currently trying to hunt me down!“

Crowley let out a breath, rubbing his head. The tension in his body eased. “Forgive me, but you seem to have a conflict of interest here.”

“And so what if I do?” Castiel hissed. “The Winchesters are my friends. They taught me how to stand up and what to do it for. They taught me how freedom feels. What friendship is. We beat Armageddon together. They’ve done a lot for me. So do forgive me if my interests are conflicted.”

Crowley snorted. “Friendship. You’re going soft, Cass. Those boys have done something to you.”

“I’m not soft,” Castiel argued, turning away from Crowley. “I just have ponies who mean a lot to me. Ponies I’d do anything for.”

“Including risking our cause?” Crowley took a step closer to Cass. “You’re not their guardian, Castiel. And haven’t you done enough for them? You went to Hell to free Sam from Nightmare Moon’s cage. You rose him.”

“Not all of him,” Cass pointed out, refusing to turn back and face the pony he was addressing.

“You raised a whole damn lot of him.”

“No,” Castiel responded. “Only his body. That’s not what makes him Sam.”

Castiel could hear Crowley scoff behind him. “So he was a tougher version. Not a bad upgrade if you ask me.”

“Sam was hurting people without his soul!” Castiel growled, finally turning back to Crowley. “He was willing to let his brother die. And Bobby.”

Crowley smiled smugly. “But your little puppet fixed it all, didn’t he?”

Castiel bristled again. “Dean isn’t my puppet!”

Crowley held a hoof up innocently. “My point is, you’ve given a lot for those stallions already. It’s time to face the facts.”

“And what are the facts?” Castiel snarled, baring his teeth.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Castiel,” Crowley said, glancing at the tied up pony. “Kill the Winchesters.”

“No,” Cass shot back instantly.

“Then I’ll do it.”

“If you kill them, then I’ll just bring them back.”

“No you won’t. Not where I’ll put ‘em.” Crowley’s narrow gaze met Castiel’s. There was so mischief or hint of smugness, only truth. “Trust me.”

Castiel let out a sigh, shuffling his wings. “I said... no. Don't worry about them.”

“Don't worry about-“ Crowley began, his baffled tone quickly shifting to anger. “What, like Nightmare Moon didn't worry? Or Michael? Or Lilith or Alastair or Azazel didn't worry?”

He leaned close enough to Cass that their noses were touching. Castiel could see his anger as plain as the sun in the sky. “Am I the only game piece on the board who doesn't underestimate those denim-wrapped nightmares?!”

Castiel gently pushed Crowley away from him, seemingly unfazed by Crowley’s outburst. “Just find Purgatory. If you don't, we will both die again and again.” His expression hardened. “Until the end of time. The Winchesters won’t get to you.”

Castiel turned to exit the lab, not bothering to acknowledge Crowley as the demon shouted after him one last time.

“Let them get to me! I’ll tear their friggin’ hearts out!”