From the moment Crowley laid eyes on you, he knew you would hold a special place in his vessel's heart. As of right now, you're sitting on one of the motel beds, intently watching a cartoon on the television while the King of Hell stands invisible in the corner. He admits, he finds it amusing to watch your expressions change to match the scenario onscreen. It's almost like you feel what the characters are feeling: when the protagonist is confused, you narrow your eyes and tilt your head slightly, sometimes speaking of your confusion with words like: "What…?" or "That's weird". Other times you'll simply stare doe-eyed into the world of fantasy before one of your brothers snaps you out of your daze and you shake yourself back into reality.
It's quite cute, really. Crowley finds it hard to believe you're the youngest of the four Winchesters; one would not assume that at first glance. Even though some of your facial features match along with your personality similarities, but other than that…Crowley lets out a chuckle, folding his arms across his chest as he continues to watch you for some time. Your face contains childlike wonder as you immerse yourself in the story unfolding in the show. Hell, even when you weren't watching silly cartoons, your eyes were always shining with hope and energy, unlike your brothers.
Speaking of the lumbering hulks…Crowley frowns. He could sense your unwavering love for your big brothers from across the galaxy. It sickened his King of Hell side but baffled the other part (whatever that was). How could you love those two idiots after all they'd done? The two had proven themselves unworthy of your innocent little presence, yet still you stuck by their side, loyal as ever. And then there was your personality: a good mix of your three brothers and parents. You're brave and tenacious like Mary was, stubborn and headstrong like John. You were understanding like Moose, but aggressive like the Squirrel when you needed to be (not to mention you shared your eldest brother's love for junk food). And obviously, you had the trademark determination of a Winchester, the one thing Crowley had come to respect about the family. Of course, these were only a few of the many traits you sheltered.
The two brothers step inside the hotel room a few moments later.
"Hey, baby girl," greets Squirrel, who sets a bag down onto the table.
"What's up, bug?" Moose adds, shrugging his jacket off.
"Hey, guys! Nothing, just watching TV," you respond, kicking your legs a little bit.
"Well, we brought you some dinner," Sam replies, gesturing to the bag.
"Yep!" Dean says, then shrugs his jacket off. "Well, I'm going to take a shower then hit the hay."
"Me too. Have you showered, bug?" Moose questions, kicking his shoes off.
Crowley chuckles at the scene in front of him. He was used to seeing the tougher side of your imbecile brothers, but this was quite the change. As for you, well, he'd keep an eye out for you during your travels. He waits until the three of you are all settled in bed before approaching your side.
"Goodnight, darling," he whispers before snapping his fingers and disappearing.
One could think Crowley was a man of negativity. He doesn't blame anyone for thinking so, of course – he's the King of Hell. Negativity was right up his alley. Even so, it got…old, after a while. Torture a few innocent souls here, execute a demon for no reason…after doing the same things for however long he'd been alive (he'd lost count long ago), it had gotten redundant after a while. His vessel, however, was not willing to participate in such activities, which confused Crowley. Fergus had been both abused and an abuser. He never bothered to see why his vessel had a sudden yearn to do good, since it didn't matter anyways. Crowley was much more powerful, so the vessel didn't have a choice in what it did.
Yet Crowley still wondered what it was like. Being human, having a childhood without abusers and with free education. He feels like it would make for a boring outcome, but then again, the King of Hell has a lot of time on his hands.
He always links these thoughts back to you. Hunters often think of these questions as well, right? Why wouldn't they? No, you weren't abused during your childhood, but you still had a demanding time. Your father had refused to let you attend public school, Crowley knew that much, but your brothers made you go once John died. You evidently were a smart child, but you did not fit in very well with other children your age. You weren't the best at socializing nor were you adept with handling the obstacles of life. Moose and Squirrel told you to make friends, but you weren't sure how. You would go to your brothers for advice, but it didn't work out most of the time.
With that in mind, Crowley finds you alone in the motel. Your brothers are out on a case, gathering information from witnesses while you prepare to go to school for the day. He considers making himself visible now, but then realizes you'll probably more comfortable with speaking somewhere relatively public. He watches you as you pick up your heavy book bag and make your way out.
You walk to school alone. It's not very far, only a mile or so away from the motel. You mindlessly continue your trek, occasionally kicking parts of the gravel road, fingers tucked underneath the straps of your backpack. You're humming a song Crowley hasn't heard before, the soft tone of your quiet voice the only noise aside from the occasional rustle of grass. He decides to make his presence known when you come across a crossroads. An appropriate setting, in Crowley's opinion.
Snapping his fingers, you swivel around, eyes going wide.
"Hello, darling," he greets, giving you a smile.
You blink, then take a few steps away from him, your right hand reaching inside the unzipped jacket you're wearing. Crowley knows you're probably going to fight back, he thinks with a sigh.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he assures, raising his hands in surrender as you keep your hand perched inside the jacket.
"Who are you?" you demand, stance rigid as he takes a tiny step closer.
"Crowley. King of Hell," he introduces, chuckling when your eyes go wide at the name.
Another stunned blink, then, "King of Hell?"
He nods. "Yes. Don't worry; I'm not here to hurt you, lovely. I just wanted to talk."
"About…?"
"You see," he begins, folding his hands behind his back, "I've been watching you pesky Winchesters for quite some time now. Out of the four siblings, you're my favorite." He pauses to see your reaction.
Your eyebrows furrow, and you seem lost in thought as you search for an answer. "Is that a good or bad thing?"
"Well, in your case, it's good," he answers, keeping his distance.
"I don't want to negotiate!" you yell suddenly, drawing a demon knife out of your pocket. He chuckles a little bit.
"Neither do I. By the way," he adds, gesturing to the blade, "that won't hurt me."
"Yeah, well…I can try!" you declare.
He gives a little laugh. "That, you can do, pumpkin. Now, I'm just here to tell you that I'll be keeping an eye out for you through your little adventures with those big, beautiful lumbering piles of flannel known as your brothers." He pulls his phone out of his pocket, then turns it on, checking the time. "Ah, well it seems I have business to attend to. It was a pleasure, pumpkin. Toodles."
You jump a little bit when he vanishes from sight, waving your knife in the air threateningly. He chuckles.
No, he doesn't care whether you tell Squirrel or Moose about your little encounter. After all, part of the fun in watching you is predicting the courses of action you'll take on certain matters. He smirks as he watches you perambulate through the gravel road (this time, a little faster) and glance over your shoulder every so often.
Later, he observed that you kept quiet about your meeting with Crowley; not even Moose knew, and he was the one you typically ran to with uncomfortable matters. The King of Hell wonders why you didn't tell anyone about him.
You must be scared. The thought causes him to chuckle as he looks down at you eating with your brothers. The two dumbasses had been smart enough to realize that something had spooked you earlier in the day, but neither could figure out what. You continue munching on your dinner slowly as Crowley thinks to himself.
Yes. The two of you would certainly have a few memorable advents together.
The King of Hell was used to seeing people cry. Since he tortured people so often, he grew used to the pathetic sobs of the souls he twisted. Crying was in human nature, he had learned; it was an outlet for when one was feeling too much of a certain emotion.
To say it was off-putting when Crowley saw you crying for the first time was an understatement.
Moose and Squirrel had just finished bickering over dear little Ruby, and the two were officially going their separate ways for now.
Yet, you were the one suffering most. Moose had nearly hit you, and Squirrel had yelled a few hurtful words at you, causing you to storm out in tears. Seeing you so hurt made Crowley want to drag both of those morons into Hell himself and give you part of his own private little piece of Hell. He heavily considered taking these actions, but then decided that you would forgive them. Eventually.
Dean had yelled at you to leave, to go anywhere except there. Crowley knew your eldest brother hadn't wanted to you to see them fight but had gone about telling you in the wrong way. Now, it was nearing five 'o clock in the morning and neither brother had found you yet.
That was because Crowley had found you first and might've accidentally cast a few warding spells to make those two meatheads worry more than needed. Currently, you were sitting on a bench in a public, empty park.
Your sobs were quiet, but Crowley heard them. From the bags under your eyes that had only seemed to worsen as time went on to your tear-streaked cheeks, the King of Hell knew you didn't need to be alone. He knew Squirrel was probably out and about, trying to find you, but Crowley wanted to make him suffer just a little bit. Hence the temporary warding spell.
With a sigh, Crowley snaps his fingers, watching as your gaze whips up to meet his. You try to stand, but your knees are wobbly, and it causes you to teeter hazardously. He steps forward to support you before you fall.
"Easy, lovely. Like I said, I've no intention to harm you." He eases you back onto the bench and sits back down next to you. You noticeably tense under his touch, but Crowley knows that will get better with time.
He must earn your trust somehow.
"What the hell do you want?" you ask, shying away from him. He sighs, moving his arm away from you and letting you put some space between the two of you.
"You're evidently exhausted, it's nearing five o' clock and you're all alone out here. I want to help you," he states, knowing it won't be that easy. One step at a time.
"Why would you want to help me? I'm just a lowlife Winchester." One of your hands reaches up to wipe away another tear.
"Oh, pumpkin, you say that like it's nothing." He wonders what exactly Squirrel said that made you so upset.
"Apparently that's what I am. Nothing," you growl, clenching your fists.
Ah, so Squirrel pulled that stunt on you, eh? "Look, darling. I'm not good with..." Crowley scrunches up his face in disgust, "feelings. But those two..."
"They were all I had," you finish, your heartbreak showing through your eyes. In that second, as soon as Crowley looked into your eyes…all he wanted to do was strangle those two jackasses for hurting you like this.
Crowley remains quiet for a moment, wondering what he should say. He was usually good with words, but now...
"I can help you," he says, looking back up at you, "but you're going to have to trust me." He holds his hand out to you, but it's more of an offer than anything. He hopes he's not intimidating you in any way.
You stare at his vessel's hand for a minute before you look up at him. "How do I know you're not..."
"Yes, yes, I know. How do you know you can trust me?" Crowley chuckles. "You don't. Hell, you shouldn't. But don't you think I would've harmed you already if I wanted to?"
He sees the gears turning in your mind as you settle on your decision. If you didn't accept Crowley's offer, then what would you do? That would most likely be your logic behind accepting his offer.
"If this is some kind of trick, then my brothers are gonna kick your ass," you declare, taking his hand at long last. Crowley grins.
"I know, princess. Which is why I'm not playing any tricks; one does not simply underestimate the Winchesters. Come." He zaps the two of you to the place where Dean was currently scouring, the Impala parked beside a closed diner. The eldest brother seemed to be in a frustrated fury as he leaned his head on the side of his beloved car.
"Stupid..." Squirrel mutters, banging his hand on the metal once.
Crowley vanishes from view before you can say anything to him. You look around, bewildered, before Dean finally spots you from where you're standing, eyes going wide with realization.
"Baby girl!" he cries, rushing over to you. Crowley (now invisible to human eyes) shakes his head as Squirrel runs to you and picks you up, hugging the living hell out of you before checking you over for injuries.
"I-I'm fine, Dean," you assure. Dean seemingly takes note of your reddened eyes and tear-streaked cheeks, making him embrace you once again. "I'm sorry. So, so sorry…"
While you appear to be much happier than before, he knows you're still trying to figure out why the King of Hell has such an interest in you.
You, Moose, and Squirrel were investigating the whereabouts of the Colt when that one obnoxious, blonde fangirl finally gave you all a lead.
And it had to do with Crowley.
He knew you were nervous, but you were much more relaxed knowing you would have your big brothers with you this time around. The two men had noticed your apprehension when Becky mentioned Crowley. When your little trio piled into the Impala, they confronted you about this.
"What's going on, baby girl?" Dean asks, eyeing you in the mirror as he pulls out of the parking lot.
You avoid his gaze. "Nothing, Dean. I'm fine."
Dean narrows his eyes at you while Sam turns around in the front seat, hazel eyes worried.
"Talk to us, bug. What happened? You've been kinda quiet recently," Sam notes.
You're nervously fidgeting with your hands. "I, um..." you sigh heavily, knowing you won't be able to hide the truth for much longer. "Promise you won't get mad?"
Sam and Dean glance at each other, concern evident. "We promise," Moose states.
"Um…I kinda already met Crowley?" The invisible King of Hell chuckles from where he's sitting beside you.
Squirrel swerves to the side of the road, surprise visible in his eyes. Moose frowns, eyes shocked.
Tears are already welling up in your eyes, Crowley notices. Ever since the little fight your brothers had had, you'd been a little more sensitive when you were with them. He knew this because you didn't cry so easily before the big fight.
"What the hell?!" Dean demands, causing Sam to smack his arm. The taller brother turns to face you.
"(Y/N), it's okay. Tell us what happened," Sam says, looking at you.
"The first time…I-I was walking to school, and he just…appeared?" you explain, furrowing your eyebrows in thought.
"What?! What did he say? Did he hurt you?!" Dean grills, giving you a hard stare.
"Dude, chill. What next, bug?" Moose questions gently.
"He…didn't hurt me. He just said…said that I was his favorite Winchester and that he would keep an eye out for me," you finish.
Dean and Sam turn to stare at each other again, confusion written in their expressions.
"You said that was the first time? What about the second?" Sam questions.
"The second time was after you two fought about Ruby," you explain, "I was sitting in a park. It was, like, four in the morning or something? And he appeared again. He saw me crying and he…he helped me."
The two sit there in stunned silence for a moment before Dean gets out, slamming his door shut and opening the back door, climbing in next to you. He embraces you, causing you to return the hug immediately.
"Is that how you found me so fast?" Dean murmurs, your shoulder buried in the crook of his neck.
"Yeah. He…held out his hand and said he could help me if I trusted him. So…I did because I had no idea what else to do and I was scared shitless. I took his hand and he zapped me back to you," you finish, resting your head on your eldest brother's shoulder.
"It's okay, baby girl," Dean whispers. "We're not mad. It's not your fault."
"Did you negotiate anything?" Sam asks.
"No, I swear!" you respond.
"We believe you," Squirrel murmurs.
"The question is, what does it mean to be Crowley's 'favorite'?" Moose asks no one in particular.
Crowley chuckles in amusement. Oh, you three would find out soon enough.
The brothers had grilled Crowley when they had first met him. Crowley had remained calm and simply explained that he preferred you over the both of them. You were a little scared, but much more relaxed this time around. The brothers had been extra cautious this time around.
Sam and Dean didn't leave you alone for a while. One of them would walk you to school, one would pick you up. Crowley still kept an eye on you, knowing you would probably find a way to escape their gazes for a while. And he was right.
You three were out on a hunt which your brothers had thought would be good experience for you. As they called it, it was just a simple 'salt 'n burn' of a poltergeist. You got banged up a little bit, but were otherwise fine. It seemed as though you were having fun, too. Crowley chuckled lightly at the little smile you were wearing as three of you sauntered out of the building together.
"Hunts like these are exhilarating," you admit, still smiling. Squirrel chuckles, ruffling your hair.
"They kinda are in a way, huh?" Dean responds, grinning. Sam gives a gentle smile as well.
"Exhilarating is one word," Sam mutters.
"Hm..." you trail off for a moment. "Do you guys think Crowley really thinks highly of me?"
Dean scoffs, shaking his head. "I have no idea. I don't think we can trust him. He's the King of Hell for god's sake!"
"I'm with Dean on this one," Moose agrees, "he's going to have to prove himself. Which'll be really hard for him to do with someone as cute as you!" He pinches your cheek, causing you to swat at his hands.
"Stop! That hurts with your big, meaty fingers!" you cry, squeezing your eyes closed.
"Heh, sorry bug," Sam apologizes as your little trio walks towards the Impala.
The third time Crowley got to talk to you was during a wendigo hunt. The three of you were trying to find its nest in a forest, but had gotten separated when the wendigo went after you.
You were smart enough to know not to yell out either brother's name just yet. That was the equivalent of pouring a bucket of blood into shark-infested waters. Instead, you were currently trying to retrace your steps, which was evidently proving harder than you thought.
Then, your head snapped up at a sudden noise. You drew your gun from its holster, both hands gripping the handle. Crowley frowns, ready to step in if things got out of hand.
Suddenly, the wendigo hopped down from a tree. Crowley was sure that you knew your gun would do little to no damage on a creature of that size, so you tried to start running. As soon as you did, though, the creature swiped you up in its grasp, holding you up before shoving its claws in your stomach, causing you to release a scream of pain.
Crowley snaps his fingers and appears behind the wendigo. He growls before summoning a ball of fire in his palms, one of its weaknesses. Then, he shoots it at the monster. It drops you at about ten feet up in the air, causing Crowley to run over towards your fallen figure. The wendigo hisses in pain before it sprints up to the King of Hell, who simple snaps his fingers again. The monster collapses.
The King of Hell turns his attention to you. You're lying on the grass, clutching your now-bloodied stomach. He stoops down to you and scoops you into his arms.
"Shh, lovely," he murmurs, frowning as a tear falls down your face. "I've got you. Let me see."
You shake your head before he moves one of his arms to your midsection, where he moves your bloody arms out of the way. The wounds are deep. Parts of your stomach have been ripped out, and you've lost a significant amount of blood. He closes his eyes before whispering a Latin incantation and pressing his fingers to your stomach. In less than a second, the wound is completely healed. All that remains of your injury is your torn, bloodied shirt.
Blinking, you look up at him. Your skin is worryingly pale.
"How did you...why?" you question, sitting up a little but not completely moving away from him.
"King of Hell, remember? I'm pretty damn powerful. As for why? I told you; you're my favorite. Now hush, dear. You've lost a lot of blood. Can you stand?"
"M-my ankle," you answer, taking a look. Crowley gently props you up against a tree before turning his gaze to your left foot. He rolls up your jeans and has a look.
"Swollen," he notes before whispering the same incantation and pressing his finger against your ankle. You wince at the touch before sighing in relief when the magic kicks in. Releasing your foot, he looks back up at you. "There you are, pumpkin. Now, let's find Squirrel and Moose, shall we?"