The hunt from last night with the Winchesters has really gotten to you. It wasn't your first time hunting, hell, it all started to collapse when you were eight years old. You know exactly how filthy demons can be, yet it was hard to prepare for the soul-scraping words they challenged you with. You'll never forget what that demon did to you and your family. When you started hunting with the Winchesters, the first thing they did was make sure you wouldn't let them get to you.

At the hunt, you did your best not to show any grand emotion towards the demon, but the Winchesters knew better. You could read off their faces that they've been through something horrifying, just like you.

[...]

Sam and Dean already went to bed, but your mind was far away from sleep. Your mind kept repeating the filthy words in your head, as if you've been cursed by the demon.

"Your mother will forever burn in the pits of hell"

You recalled, and saw the dirty grimace on his face again.

"…and your father? I'm letting him torture your mother while his guts are being ripped out, one after another"

You tried to wash away the memories. The demon never broke eye contact with you, which had made it even harder for you to bare.

"..And then I'll do it all over again"

You could hear him say it, as if he was still there.

A sudden cold rushed around you, as the scent of whiskey and tobacco came running from behind. The temperature in the room had at least decreased five degrees in the past ten seconds. You knew there was something going on so you grabbed your gun that you kept next to your chair by the fireplace.

"Calm down, calm down," you heard a hoarse voice say behind you. "So you're their new bate, huh?" he continued. His rather masculine voice had a British undertone and sounded like he'd just smoked ten cigarettes on end. Didn't you hear the Winchesters once argue about a certain 'King of Hell' named "Crowley", who's supposed to live in the meat suit of a successful literary agent from New York? His origin lies in Scotland, you had overheard in the same conversation as well.

"Stay back!" you yelled as you pointed your loaded gun at the demon. He didn't stay back at all, he came walking towards you now, even though you warned him about your loaded gun full of rock salt. He was one of those demons that carried this certain grimace as well.

"May I?" he asked politely, before seating himself in the chair next to yours. Should you scream and wake up Sam and Dean? Maybe it was good for you to throw out what has been eating you from the inside for a long, long time. Empty your thoughts in his face and maybe put him in a check mate position. You never really got the chance to, anyway.

You stood perplexed of his politeness and lowered your gun. He had respect, and he's one of the few, you noticed. You seated yourself back in your chair and sighed. "Great," you thought, "just what I needed."

"Who are you?" you asked, keeping your respects, too.

"Name's Crowley," he paused and tilted his head in your direction before continuing. "You seem familiar," he said. He placed his elbows on his knees and rested his head on his fists, squinting his eyes.

"As if you don't know" you hissed, turning your head away. Your eyes had filled with tears, but you couldn't show him any weakness.

"I see," he replied. "..it's your parents, hm?" he seemed to get it now. It's not like you could bring a demon to show affection, you knew that already.

" 's What you get, working with a demon" he said, clicking his tongue.

"W-What do you mean? Working with a demon?" you asked in confusion.

"Your father," he said, waiting for eye contact. "He made a deal with a demon" he continued. You looked away in horror. You couldn't expect your parents to talk about ghosts and demons in your early life stage, you understood that, but it would change your point of view on the situation for good.

The sound of glass ticking against a bottle, got your attention. Crowley made a bottle of Craig and two glasses appear in his hands, and filled them both. You could definitely use some whiskey right now, he probably seemed to understand that, too. He handed you a filled glass, and waited for you to take a sip. He smiled after you took the glass from his hand. There was something about this demon, but you couldn't figure what made him different from the others. He's a demon after all.

"I- I didn't know anything about that" you said, wiping a tear away.

"I know, that's why I'm telling you," he said as he sipped his whiskey. "Demons may be dickheads, but we're honest if it comes to souls, filthy or not," he continues. You took another sip as the words repeated itself in your mind. That means the demon at the hunt was right, dad is torturing mom.

"So, the Winchesters are using you as bate now?" he asked, turning his face to you. You frowned at him before replying.

"What's that supposed to mean, I'm hunting with them" you replied, not knowing what he meant with that.

"One day you're gonna lose," he replied. "One day they won't be there to save you" he continued and paused for a bit. "Just like their father did" he sighed and took a sip.

"What happened?" you asked, since you were now questioning your safety with the Winchesters.

"John, the typical moron," he shook his head. "He was hunting with someone as well," he said after a while. "..and he left the poor whippersnapper as bate to make sure his own safety was assured" he sighed before continuing. "It's up to you, they did it once and they'll do it again" he emptied his glass and refilled. "Refill?" he asked when he saw your glass was empty as well.

"And you ask yourself, why is the King of Hell so polite? Simple." You looked in confusion as he continued. "I appear to be the only game piece on the board who doesn't underestimate those denim-wrapped nightmares" he said, almost snapping. He took the bottle of Craig and refilled your glass.

"Hm," you mumbled, not knowing what to say on that. He may actually have a point right there. You took a sip of your whiskey, your mind felt like an absolute tornado right now.

"What brought you to the Winchesters, anyway?" he wondered.

"I met them when I was eight years old," you replied, eyes filling with tears again when you thought about it. You wish you hadn't met them at all. They were good people, of course, but you wished the demon didn't came to take your father's and mother's soul. You could remember the howling of the hell hounds that he had brought with him, from miles away. "They were too late," you continued as you took a sip to bury the chunk in your throat. "He had already taken the lives of my parents when they arrived," you indicated. Crowley better don't say anything on that, he used to seal deals himself. "But," you stated, "now that I know better, I can't blame it on you, you're doing your goddamn job. I can't help it that my father was stupid enough to make a deal," It didn't take long before Crowley realized you had a point right there as well.

"I've lost someone too, back in the days" he replied. You were actually baffled that he actually remembers things from his human past. You always assumed their memories would rot away with their souls. "I guess I had it coming" he smiled and took a sip.

"Why?" you asked.

"I was stupid enough to make a deal with a crossroads demon," he laughed. "Yet, here I am. Former king of the Crossroads, promoted to King of Hell,"

"What did you sell your soul for?" you were now wondering. The tears had flown back into your eyes again, luckily. He grinned before he answered.

"I was a stupid lad, I wasn't satisfied with what I had beneath the belt" he said as if he was still in cross with himself. It made you laugh.

"I knew demons and people can be stupid, but dear god" you replied, still in a fit of giggles, "That really is stupid" you shook your head as you took a sip. You had him laughing now as well, and he put his glass on top of his knee. It was weird to see a demon laugh with you. It didn't feel wrong at all, but you had to make sure the Winchesters didn't find out.

"Why are you here, though?" you asked, thoughts wandering off.

"I was actually hoping I'd find one of the Winchesters sitting in front of the fireplace, like they usually do ever after they moved in here" he replied, looking around in the Men of Letters bunker. He circled his finger on top of the glass before continuing. "But then there was you," he smiled and took a sip while he glanced in your direction.

"You're not like them," you stated as you tilted your head, "You're different"

"What makes me different?" he squinted his eyes again.

"I don't know," you replied, wondering what you're going to say on that. You looked away and thought about your answer. "You have respect—like no other demon has" your mind couldn't come up with the right words in time. You heard a stumbling noise coming from behind followed by the sound of an opening door.

"Who were you talking to?" a sleepy Sam stood in the door opening. His eyes were too tired to actually see well, which came in favour this time. He put a hand over his eyes en forehead to block the bright light coming from the fireplace. You looked at the chair next to you, and saw it was empty.

"No one.. I tend to talk to myself when I'm alone," you laughed, trying your best not to look suspicious. He came walking over to you and saw the bottle of Craig next to you.

"That," he said before continuing, "..is good stuff. When did you get it?" he wondered and walked off to grab a glass himself. He came back with a filled glass, and refilled yours before seating himself in the chair next to you. "Do you smell something?" he sniffled in the air and looked around. "Tobacco? Sulphur?" he asked and looked around one last time. You shrugged and took a sip.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern, "I mean, after the hunt"

"Yeah, I think I am," you replied, your eyes wandering off to the fire. "I got a clear mind of things, and considered some possibilities I never thought about before" you smiled. "It's a bit more comforting now that I know it may not have been my fault," you said as you emptied your glass.

"It was never your fault," Sam replied almost immediately. "Neither was it ours I guess" he said, his eyes wandering off to the fireplace as well. He emptied his glass and gave you his best puppy look.

"You should get some rest" he stated and helped you up. He made sure you were alright and walked with you to your bed room in the Men of Letters bunker. "Sleep well" he said and smiled, before returning to his room across yours.

"Sleep well" you replied and closed the door behind you. You smelled the scent of tobacco in your room again and looked around, but you saw nothing. It was dark anyway. You lay your weary head to rest, and fell asleep.

Let me know if you like it and whether I should write a sequel. :3