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Don't own supernatural or anything you ever saw on tv and most likely youtube as well.
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Crowley may be a demon, but he had ethics.
Elastic and bendy ethics, yes, but he stuck by them none the less.
Actually it wasn't so much 'ethics' as 'ethic,' meaning in one singular ethic.
Crowley's ethic was this: You Do Not Go Back On a Deal.
Any contract with his signature held a sulfur stained guarantee to be followed to the letter. Only to the letter, mind you.
Sam might have had the potential to be great lawyer, but Crowley had been circumventing loopholes since before humans left their caves.
Commands like, 'Do everything in your power to help the Winchesters and avert the end of the world via apocalypse or (insert comparable threat level here)' really were more like a suggestion.
Of course, that was not the only stipulation of this particular deal, but you get the general idea.
So after much haggling, ( "It's the only way, demons can't time travel, no one will suspect him!") our favorite business demon stands somewhere near the year 2005, clutching a file of neatly stacked excuses and a small black notebook containing a checklist.
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Sam felt numb, and that wasn't just because he lost all feeling in his dangling limbs.
First, his brother gets dragged down to hell by a pack of invisible demonic dogs after the one year time limit for his Crossroads Deal was up.
Second, the only friend he felt he had just gotten herself turned into a cloud of black smoke and exorcised (though from the wording of the chant, Sam suspected that she would be lucky to end up back in hell).
Third, was dangling against the wall unable to move a muscle as this was going on.
Oh yeah, and the strange British guy was still here. Ignoring the captive human, the demon (or at least Sam though he was a demon) neatly drew a line through something in a black notebook.
"That's one off the list," he smirked, before returning the book to his breast pocket and preparing to leave.
"Wait!" Sam struggled to move his jaw, "What did you do? Where's Ruby?"
The demon looked at him, eyebrows raised.
"I just saved your life, and I'm not even going to ask for anything in return. Isn't that nice?"
"Who are you?"
The demon considered this for a moment. "A business partner."
Sam snarled. "Dean's already been dragged to hell you bastard, get the hell away from me!"
"Oh, that's happened already, has it?" he looked annoyed. "I'm behind schedule then. How annoying."
He snapped his fingers and vanished.
Sam felt life return to his limbs and collapsed. Drawing his knees to his chest he lay there too emotionally drained to get up.
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A week later the same British demon reappeared, muttering something about fragile emotional states of humans.
"He doesn't need to eat, but one demonic entity a month for a snack keeps him healthy. Now quit moping!" He left before Sam could do more than blink in surprise.
The tiny red eyed puppy nuzzled his lap happily, letting its tongue loll over what would eventually become inch long fangs, but were now still baby teeth.
Carefully Sam ran a finger behind the hell hound's ears, and it yipped. He smiled.
"I think I'll call you Rover."
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