You walked behind Sam and Dean, carefully stepping down each stair. The staircase was pretty small and enclosed; it lead to the dungeon. Sam walked ahead through the storage room where boxes upon boxes layed neatly organized and dust filled. You watched as he pulled a shelf apart from another roughly. Dean stopped you at the entrance of the dark un-litted part of the room. Sam switched a light on revealing a man to you, chained up behind a small table. He was Crowley, as Dean has mentioned to you before, but this would be the official first meeting. You breathed out behind Dean.
"Moose, I thought you’ve forgotten about me." His strong mixed irish accent sent your heart up the wall. Besides being covered in blood and torn fabric, he seemed handsome. You reminded yourself that HE was the King of Hell. He’d want nothing more to rip you apart. Guts and all. You dismissed your attraction towards him quickly. His brown eyes darted over towards you. "You’ve brought me a gift."
"Shut up, Crowley." Dean growled standing slightly aside, letting you walk through into the small room. "If you try anything funny, I’ll stick my foot down your filthy throat."
"Oh Dean. You’re making me tingle with excitement." He retorted. You smirked watching Dean’s face turn into an expression of disgust. You turned your attention back to Crowley who smiled as you walked further and closer towards him. You still felt the presence of Sam and Dean behind you. God forbid they’d leave you down here with a demon.
"So, you’re Crowley." You started placing your hands on each side of your hips. "You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be." You pouted playfully.
He seemed almost offended by your comment. “I am scary.” He exclaimed rather hurtfully.
"I’m here to talk to you about your friend, Abaddon."
"Last time we met, we didnt leave off in exactly ‘good terms’." He said quoting it with his fingers.
"Even better!" You said placing your palms on the table infront of him. "That means, you won’t mind telling me how to find her." You leaned down close enough for him to see slight freckles on your cheeks.
"As much as i’d love to see you rip out every strand of hair on her pretty little head, I dont like to be left without a treat for my bargaining."
"I’m sure I can work something out with YOU, Mr. Crowley." You said sitting down on the table letting your hand wander over the shackles surrounding his wrists. You felt his deep breathing come to a stop as he watched your fingers intently ran along the back of his hand. You could’ve sworn you saw a rise of goosebumps on his skin. "I’ll give you your fair share of time to beat her to a pulp."
Crowley let out a laugh as he leaned forward closer to you, “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
"You don’t strike me as a lover."
"You don’t know me yet, darling." Crowley’s eyes looked down at his hands. You followed his gaze, seeing his hands intertwining with your own. You haven’t even noticed this as it happened. But you didn’t flinch or push away from him. You allowed him to hold your hand as he allowed you to do the same. You were tempted to feel his broken lip find warmth with a kiss. Dean coughed behind you trying catch both your attention. You were mad you couldn’t do anything. You were mad that it pained you to see him chained and painted in his own dry blood. You were mad at Crowley for making you feel that way. Finaly you pulled back from his grasp and chuckled before making your way out of the room. Each step you took echoing making it seem twice as silent. Crowley watched as The Winchester’s closed the shelves together once again.
He sighed one last time before the lights went out.