Crowley: Canon vs Fanon (P5)
We’ve covered a lot of ground in this series, from Crowley’s career and powers to his identity and relationships. We’ve questioned his image, right to rule, and his attraction to heartbreak compared him to a pigeonholed genie, a lost, defective pearl, and Norman friggin’ Bates.
But there’s more to him than that. We see his actions and sometimes we know his values and motives, but there’s still an emotional and psychological side to him, a rich inner life that rarely makes it into the show’s main text.
But there’s subtext a-plenty.
The Wiring
Bobby: “Word on the street is that ever since Lucifer went to the pokey, you’re the big kahuna downstairs.” Crowley: “I see you’ve been reading the trades.” Bobby: “Trouble in Paradise?” Crowley: “Mate… you have no idea.” – “Weekend at Bobby’s”
We all know Crowley is lonely and longs for love and family, because it’s frequently been stated in so many words, by him or by the other characters. But most people are like that. Sam and Dean are like that. It isn’t enough to account for his unique personality – his quirks, his temperament.
And speaking of temperament, Crowley sometimes comes off as a volatile demon, doesn’t he? Shouting mid-sentence and making things explode, calling people morons and threatening them with death. But he’s not quick to anger. A fan once suggested he blows up because he can’t abide stupidity, but if that was true, he would’ve offed the planet by now.
Crowley’s default state is “surrounded by idiots,” that in and of itself doesn’t seem to piss him off. Insults bounce off him, he’s got a high threshold for abuse, and he’s clearly not moved by relative injustices – whichever side wins the battle between good and evil, Crowley assumes he can take advantage. And when someone finally manages to get under his skin, he reacts by calmly and quietly plotting their demise, frequently with a smile on his face.
So no, Crowley doesn’t have a short temper in that way, his anger on its own is not explosive. So why-for and whence all the tantrums? What causes Crowley to erupt in a fit of roaring verbal smack-downs and busted street lamps? Well, key to understanding his mental and emotional state is the knowledge that he suffers from towering anxiety.
Crowley had a neglectful, unreliable mother who abandoned him at a young age to a terrible life without so much as a goodbye – that alone is enough to hard-wire someone for eternal stress. But ever since he met the Winchesters, Crowley frequently finds himself in mortal peril, surrounded by so-called heroes who seem to want to screw things up and get everybody killed.
He spent six seasons commanding an army of hapless dicks who think he’s a coward and a traitor for steering Hell away from the rocks, a liability for having friends and family, and think Lucifer – the guy who wants to smite them all – is a dreamboat who’ll take them to Heaven on a fluffy, pink cloud.
There’s no calming influence in Crowley’s life, no comfort, security, love, or trust. Every kind of thing that exists in the SPN universe hates him, for being demonic but not demonic enough. He doesn’t have anyone competent helping him, all of his partnerships end in tears. He always seems to wind up alone, putting out fires while pretty much everyone plots to kill him.
Keeping that in mind might cast his meltdowns in a different light.
Self Medication
As a result of Crowley’s anxiety, we not only see him freak out from time to time, but we also see how he tries to manage it on his own, day-to-day. He doesn’t let out his pent-up emotions with violence like you’d expect a demon to – humans on the show seem more inclined to violence than Crowley. Instead, we see him, for lack of a better word, dawdling. With increased frequency.
Whenever he can, he finds a distraction. Junk food, sad movies, 60s pop, outings with mother, foosball with friends, group sex, electronic chess, liquor, spa days, Broadway – you name it, he’s ignored ruling Hell to enjoy it.
What do all these indulgences have in common? Are they just human things he’s drawn to? Then why did he bother with them before the Third Trial? And why didn’t Cas react to being essentially human in the same way? What is it about these things that draw Crowley in?
When Crowley plays hooky, he has a tendency to engage in (or at least try for) activities that release oxytocin. As I’ve mentioned before, oxytocin is a handy little hormone that does many things, but chiefly important here, it helps combat cortisol, the hormone that stresses us out.
I’m not saying the writers thought about this in terms of biochemistry, but certain people with certain problems repeat certain patterns – you don’t have to be a chemist to know what it means when someone lives in their pajamas for weeks and self-medicates with pizza, booze, and Casablanca.
Those who understand these hormones may be wondering, “What does Crowley slutting it up have to do with stress relief? Men don’t get oxytocin from sex with strangers, they get it from sleeping with someone they’ve bonded with.” And I’d agree with that. But Crowley goes to a lot of trouble to make sure the casual sex he has isn’t so casual.
Regardless of reality, Crowley seemed to think he had something going with Lola, even if it was just trusting her to take care of him when he needed it. You can draw your own conclusions about the weeks between season 9 and season 10, but sufficed to say, Crowley likes there to be some kind of bond.
And at the beginning of season 11, after Crowley escaped assassination attempts from Sam, Rowena, and Cas, the earth had cracked open to let out an eldritch abomination the likes of which he’d never seen, when he had to leave his meat suit (along with his powers) behind, he put the call that would return him to safety on hold and put down his only weapon, for these dorks:
Yes, they were complete strangers, and yes, Crowley’s a tart, but if that’s all there was to it, he was the King of Hell. He could’ve just made the call, been picked up by his minions, got his mighty powers and his todger back, and had any kind of orgy he wanted, with guests, possessed or otherwise. So what was it about these painfully square, middle-aged suburbanites he found worth the risk? Was it because he wanted to get with them, or because he had a shot at feeling like they wanted to get with him?
Maybe I’m looking a little too close at Crowley’s hoeing, but dagnabbit, he needs the attention. Anyway, whatever it is that he’s looking for with his dawdling, he hasn’t found a lasting fix yet. His YOLO incident didn’t pacify.
The Baggage
“See, problem with the old place was most of the inmates were masochists already. A lot of ‘thank you, sir, can I have another hot spike up the jacksie?’” – Crowley, “The Man Who Would Be King”
Brass tacks: I suspect Crowley might have a few wires crossed somewhere when it comes to violence and affection. And I don’t mean the way he flirts with anyone who threatens him. I’m talking fear of affection with a side of full-on situational masochism. Yes, masochism, not sadism.
While it’s very popular in fanon for Crowley to be portrayed as sadistic, actually inflicting pain seems to bore him more than his voicemail greeting would have us believe. He seems far more comfortable receiving pain than he does receiving affection. Contrast his reaction to Gavin coming at him for a hug (anxious) to Kevin coming at him with a sledgehammer (exited).
Was his excitement at coercing someone into hitting him caused by the enjoyment of pain or coercion? (50/50?) And if Crowley is indeed a masochist, is it a byproduct of being twisted by torture – like he longs for attention but mistrusts gentleness – or is it just another boring kink?
Would it have started with Crowley or Fergus? Was he telling the truth about most damned souls being masochistic before they get to Hell?
And is there some correlation or is it a coincidence? Maybe the Venn diagram of people who are masochists and people who impulse buy just happens to overlap in Hell. But if a grown man sells his immortal soul off to be tortured by demons for (he thinks) all eternity in exchange for ten years of cosmetic surgery, is it just poor judgment, or something deeper?
Raises an interesting question, too: can selling your soul for cheap be an ultimately masochistic act? And I don’t mean it in a technical way, (i.e. are they knowingly making a choice that will harm them) because if that was how masochists happen, everyone who ever drank Starbucks would be one.
I know, I’m over-analyzing again. Fergus was probably just another rube who didn’t believe in Hell and threw away his future for some fun in the present – if he’d been a modern man, he would’ve just racked up credit card debt. Maybe there’s nothing more to this. Maybe he was just dim.
“Fergus was bright. Walked before his first birthday.” – Rowena, “Alpha and Omega”
Maybe.