Summary: The reader is hired to paint in Crowley's condo. One night, outside the window, she overhears Sam and Dean plotting to kill her employer for double crossing them.
A/N: No pairings
Word Count: 984
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
Just finish the painting and you could finally go home. Finish the painting and you're free. It was three in the morning and I was instantly regretting taking this job. There was an Englishman in New York who was paying me to paint the gigantic wall of his condo. At first I thought he was crazy, but he seemed so passionate about it so I gave it a chance. It's been three days and I only stayed this late because I was almost done.
Crowley usually keeps to himself. People constantly come in and out of this house with the exception of his mother. She lives right above the room I'm painting in and I hear everything. The people who normally come in refer to him as King and he doesn't want to be called anything else.
Needless to say he won't be hearing it from me. What he does behind closed doors is up to him. Throughout the days I've been here, I've heard him constantly referring to two boys he calls the Hardy Boys. They have plenty of history, but they seem more like his allies than his enemies. They've been to Hell and back for each other.
By now everyone has retired to their rooms and the home is surprisingly quiet with the exception of the music coming from my iPod. The window remained opened as I listened to the energy from the streets of New York die down. I hear the rustle of an engine. It sounds like an old car by the way the doors squeak when they open.
"Come on Sam! There's no way you're backing down now. We've been planning on this for a while now", a gravelly voice had said
"Dean I'm not holding back. It seems like a trap. When have we ever gotten one over on that son of a bitch?", the one he referred to as Sam replied
"Okay. Maybe it does seem a little too easy, but we have to keep our guard up. Apparently he's the one pulling the strings"
I continued to paint as I listened to the two talk about how they should go about things. I feel bad for the poor soul that has to defend themselves against them, as Dean had said, "We have an arsenal in the trunk". Whatever that entailed, I didn't want to find out.
"What if his mother is here?", Sam inquired
"So you're telling me that after hunting werewolves, banshees, and vamps, that you're afraid of a little witch?"
"Well that little witch had enough power to remove the mark and release the Darkness, but no I'm not", he replied with an attitude. I could picture him giving him a bitch face after that statement.
As I moved over to the bucket of paint in the windowsill, I finally registered what Dean had said. Werewolves, banshees, and vampires. The creatures I usually read about in fanfiction. Maybe they do too with the occasional cosplay. Curiosity began to eat away at me and I finally decided that I had to see them. I stood to the right of the window and bent over to get a better look.
Dean spoke again and I could finally put the voice to the faces. Dean was shorter than Sam, but that didn't mean he wasn't a giant himself. They looked intimidating, but extremely attractive.
"So we're not killing him tonight?", Sam questioned
Killing who? If that's the case, I need to leave as soon as possible. Forget the money, it won't mean a thing if I end up on the 11 o'clock news.
I was still standing near the window, slowly inching closer to hear them better.
"No we can't kill Crowley tonight. Too risky"
Just as Crowley's name slipped out his mouth, my shoulder bumped into the bucket of paint and it sailed out the window.
"No!", I gasped. The bucket finally hit the ground and I debated on whether I should just take off and forget my job.
"What the hell!?", Dean shouted
"Dean, look, the window was open. He probably heard everything", Sam hesitated
"Dammit!"
Maybe they won't come up if they see that it's just me. Yeah, go for it. That's not a dumb idea at all.
I slowly leaned out the window and immediately my eyes landed on Dean who was covered in red paint.
"Um...no. It's just me", I said attempting to keep my voice from waivering
Their eyes grew wide.
"Well nice going Picasso!", Dean nearly shouted
"I'm sorry for my brother. I assume you heard our conversation from before?", Sam softly stated with a bit of urgency
I nodded slowly.
"I think you should leave. I'm not sure what may happen tonight, but I don't want you to get hurt. I don't know what Crowley has said to you, but he's dangerous and he will stop at nothing to get what he wants"
"Yeah, kid you really don't want to be involved in this", Dean chimed in
I really didn't want to be, but it may have been a little too late.
"I'll be out in minute. I promise", I responded and made my way upstairs. As I reached the top of the stairs a young man was waiting
"The King wants to see you", he said sternly and pulled me to the master bedroom
When I entered, Crowley sat up in his chair, "Have you finished my painting?"
"Not at all. I was distracted"
"By?", he said impatiently
"I think you should know the Winchesters are downstairs plotting your death your grace", I simply stated
Crowley stared at me, processing this new information, "Everyone get out. You know what to do!"
As everyone rushed out, Crowley looked at me. I haven't been here long, but I figured I would enjoy my stay.
"This is why you're my favorite", he said softly as my eyes turned black
