“We need him, whether you guys like it or not.” You stood in front of the demon, your hands on the blades you kept in your pockets, ready to pull them at any second. The Winchester’s exchanged surprised glances at your behavior. “You kill him, I kill you. Got it?” You looked between the two, waiting for an answer other than their shocked facial expressions.
“What has gotten into you?” Dean growled, taking a step towards you. You pulled out one of the blades and rested it against your thigh, a subtle threat.
“I’m doing my job without letting my emotions get the best of me. You should try it sometime.” You snapped. Dean’s jaw clenched, obviously more than annoyed with you. This was out of character for you. You always showed Sam and Dean the upmost respect, but something about the man behind you caused a shift within. You knew you had to protect him.
“Then you deal with him.” Dean pointed a finger at you, something a father would do to his daughter, and then turned to leave, Sam following behind. Sam looked over his shoulder at you, concern in his eyes. You sighed, giving him the smallest of smiles to reassure him. Once the Winchester’s were gone, you turned to face the cause of the situation.
“That was quite the show, Poppet.” Crowley smirked. “Seeing you get so defensive over little old me gets me bothered in all of the right ways.”
“Shut up.” You snapped, running a hand through your hair and pulling up a chair so that you could sit across from him. “I just need you to tell me about the deals going on in this town. There’s too many and we don’t know how to stop them all.”
“You don’t. They’re deals, (Y/n). Once those morons lock lips with one of my demons, that’s that.” He shook his head at you. “Why don’t we talk about something else, yeah? How about the way you can’t stand to see me tortured and beaten? Or the way you’re constantly trying to justify the evil things I do?”
“Don’t try and turn this into some twisted romance. I’m here to save those peop-”
“Romance? I didn’t say anything about romance, Kitten.” Crowley raised his brows, feigning innocence.
“I don’t care what you said.” You threw your hands to your side, starting to get aggravated.
“How about you tell me why you haven’t pulled a knife on me for pissing you off when you were so quick to threaten Moose and Squirrel. They’re like family to you and you were ready to kill them to protect a demon.” He was getting inside your head. You stood up from your seat, turning away from him. You considered pulling out your other blade, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Why couldn’t you do it? You shook your head, annoyed with yourself. “You know, I’ve done the same thing.” You turned back to him, confused.
“What are you talking about?” You almost snapped.
“Have you never found it off that none of my demons have ever come after you?” He asked. Honestly, you never really thought about it, but now that he’s mentioned it, you can’t remember a demon ever attacking you specifically. “That’s because when the thought even crosses their mind, I take their head off their shoulders.” Crowley’s eyes were following your every move. “Because I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”
“Why are you telling me this?” You blinked, more confused than ever. “Listen, I just want to know how to stop-”
“No, you listen.” Crowley interrupted. “You’ve been dancing around this for far too long and I know damn well if I’m not the one to say this, you never will. We care for each other, (Y/n). We protect each other, we go out of our way to make sure only good things come to one another. What does that look like to you?”
“Are you trying to say that you’re in love with me, Crowley?” You walked towards him.
“Well, when you say it like that..” Crowley raised his brows and looked to the floor. “Yes, I guess that is what I’m trying to say.”
God dammit if you weren’t the
most stubborn, strong-willed, unruly wildcat of a woman he’d ever met. Normally
Dean considered that a good thing. You were a kick ass hunter, and had
literally and figuratively knocked him off his feet the first time the two of
you met. He’d been a love-struck fool, pulling out all the stops to try and win
you over, using his best lines, turning up the charm - the whole nine yards.
And you’d laughed in his face, giggling at his attempts to hit on you, which
had been quite a shock. But somehow the chase was even better, and boy had you
given him one. It had taken months of friendship, getting to know you slowly,
working through all the walls, all the emotional barriers you had. You were a
challenge, a conundrum, but Dean loved every moment of figuring you out.
And when you’d finally opened up
to him and everything had fallen into place, he suddenly found that you might
just be his saving grace. Your spirit hadn’t changed and you were still feisty
as all hell, but you were caring. You had an enormous heart, and you were
fiercely loyal. Dean found that you calmed him down, had a settling presence
whenever you were around. You were home.
But good god you could be such a
pain in the frickin ass.
You were currently mad at him for
shamelessly flirting with a witness, and Dean, feeling rather insolent about
the whole thing, had defended himself when you brought it up. He’d done it to
get information, was just working the case to figure out what was going on.
That apparently hadn’t been a
After some yelling followed by a
slammed door and an evening of sullen silence and angry glares, you, Sam and
Dean went out for dinner. Unfortunately for Dean, the local sheriff’s deputy
was sitting at the bar, and after he gave you a wide smile, you’d joined him.
The two of you were well into your third round of drinks, and you were laughing
at something he said, leaning in to rest your hand on his shoulder.
“Oh boy,” Sam muttered
around his beer, making Dean’s head snap around.
“Oh, nothing,” his
brother said quickly, “It’s just he was checking her ass out this morning
at the station.”
“She’s just doing this
because of that witness,” Dean grumbled, glaring back over at you. He was
sure you could feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, but you didn’t
“Dean I’m sure she’s just
trying to get under your skin,” Sam offered.
“Yeah that’s not really
helpful, Sammy,” Dean growled, sparing him a glare before turning back to
glower at you.
“I’m just saying that you
know she isn’t serious. She’s crazy about you, man.”
“That doesn’t look serious
to you?” Dean demanded as that goddamn deputy put his hand on your thigh.
“Dean, calm down. She’s
trying to get a rise out of you.”
succeeding,” he snarled, tossing back the rest of his whiskey and pushing
out of his chair.
“Dean!” Sam called, but
Dean wasn’t listening. All he could see was that guy’s hand on your leg, and
the rest of his vision had become a blurred red.
“Y/N,” he barked,
making you jump slightly and look up, eyes wide and surprisingly guilty. Deputy
Douchebag just raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned about the intrusion.
“We’re leaving,” Dean informed you. Those words seemed to change
something, though, and your gaze hardened.
“I’m having a nice time,
Dean,” you said dismissively, beginning to turn back towards the bar.
“Don’t think you understood
me, sweetheart,” Dean snapped, grabbing your upper arm, “that wasn’t
a suggestion.” He yanked you off the bar stool, making the deputy shoot to
“Hey, take it easy
now,” he said, holding his hands out.
“Don’t start with me,
moron,” Dean muttered, pulling you along easily across the bar despite
your vehement protests and struggling. Dean was grateful to hear Sam’s voice
behind him, calming down the concerned officer, assuring him that he would
never hurt you, that everything was just fine. You started yelling as soon as
the two of you stepped out into the cool evening air.
you snarled, “let go of me!”
“Nope,” Dean said
calmly, still leading you along through the parking lot.
“I swear to god, Winchester,
let go!” You shouted, but Dean ignored you, heading straight for the
“Get in the car,” he
“Screw you,” you spat,
finally yanking your arm free of his hold.
“Excuse me?” Dean
asked, his voice dangerously low. You were standing by the passenger door, Dean
in front of you with his arms crossed.
“You heard me. Can’t take
what you dish out, huh?” You asked with a bitter laugh, turning like you
were going to head back towards the building, “Fucking figures-” Dean
grabbed you, pushing you up against the car so fast you let out a little squeak
“I did not have my hands on
that woman, and I certainly didn’t let her feel me up,” he growled
right in your ear. He didn’t miss your shaky breath as he pressed his body
against yours, pinning you against the impala. “You. Are. Mine,”
he breathed, smiling smugly when you shivered. Despite your anger and general
dominant attitude, you absolutely fell apart whenever Dean got all
authoritative like this, showing a surprising amount of submission.
Dean took advantage of that
knowledge, running one hand up into your hair.
“Now you’re going to get in
the car and we’re going back to the motel,” he said quietly, lips brushing
against your neck as he tugged gently on your hair. Your eyes fluttered shut
and you let out a small noise that sounded suspiciously like a moan. “What
was that?” Dean demanded sharply, making you drop your head forward onto
“Yes, god yes, Dean…”
you moaned, making Dean’s pulse race.
“Good girl,” he said
quietly, planting a kiss on top of your head before opening the door behind
you. Surprisingly, you hesitated for a moment, the dangerous glint in your eyes
suggesting you might just disobey him. But with one last look, you ducked into
“We have to create culture, don’t watch TV, don’t read magazines, don’t even listen to NPR.Create your own roadshow. The nexus of space and time where you are now is the most immediate sector of your universe, and if you’re worrying about Michael Jackson or Bill Clinton or somebody else, then you are disempowered, you’re giving it all away to icons, icons which are maintained by an electronic media so that you want to dress like X or have lips like Y. This is shit-brained, this kind of thinking. That is all cultural diversion, and what is real is you and your friends and your associations, your highs, your orgasms, your hopes, your plans, your fears. And we are told ‘no’, we’re unimportant, we’re peripheral. 'Get a degree, get a job, get a this, get a that.’ And then you’re a player, you don’t want to even play in that game. You want to reclaim your mind and get it out of the hands of the cultural engineers who want to turn you into a half-baked moron consuming all this trash that’s being manufactured out of the bones of a dying world.”