Title: Death, Devine Wrath, and a Winchester
Author: July Falconeri
Beta: Sophia Rose (OnceUponaTimeinDestielLand)
Rating: M
Warning: Language, smut, gore and torture
Spoilers: All seasons
Pairings: Crowley/OC; Gabriel/OC
Word count (Chapter 1): 1,876
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything associated with and gained no profit from writing this work.
A/N: I would just like to say thanks for taking the time to read this. A huge thanks to my beta, Sophia! You rock! I hope you all enjoy chapter one!
Chuck sat at his desk, a bottle of whiskey within arms reach. These new visions he was having, about a girl close to the Winchesters, had been somehow cut from his visions until recently, as if the angels didn't want her to be seen. It was strange, but Chuck didn't question these things, he simply wrote them down.
Bobby never thought he'd see her as a daughter. Gabriel never expected her to become his best friend. And Crowley never thought he'd fall in love. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's start from the beginning of this story.
Her name was July Falconeri. A demon left her on Bobby Singer's doorstep. Neither Bobby nor July know that a demon was her father. But if they did, I don't think they'd be as surprised as one would think.
As time went on, she expanded on her name. July Falconeri, to July Singer Falconeri, to July Singer Winchester Falconeri at fourteen so she could take on the same last name as her seven and three year old cousins, Dean and Sam.
At twenty three she had shortened it to Falcon Singer Winchester. This girl was not the same as she once was. This girl was a hunter. A hunter who would do anything and everything to save her family. That's why she died. Just like Sam and Dean would eventually die. For family.
A few thousand years later, and she would have the name of a demon. Leviathan.
This is where her story truly begins.
Maybe I was never meant to be a hunter. Maybe I was always meant to be the hunted.
"Crowley, give me some money so I can buy expensive material possessions to show how rich we've suddenly become," I said in a relaxed, slightly bored voice. I arched my back over the arm of the couch and let my arms and hair fall above my head.
"Are you enjoying yourself, luv?" Crowley asked amused, not looking up from the paper he was reading.
"Oh indeed, Andrew," I said breathily.
Crowley chuckled. "I think references from that movie only work if we own a yacht."
"Crowley! I seem to have lost my ruby earrings between here and fifth street. Go and find them!" I said dramatically, placing my arm across my eyes. I smiled. "Do you really want to buy me a yacht?"
"I fear I would suffer greatly if I did."
"Oh, you would," I got on my feet and stalked toward him. "I would throw you-"
"Don't say it!"
"Overboard!" I yelled and launched myself at him from across the desk, knocking him and his chair to the floor. We rolled around for a few seconds, Crowley trying to recover from the sudden attack.
"How very elegant of you, Darling," he said a bit breathlessly.
I smiled. "I like to think so," I muttered with a quick kiss to his lips.
Later that night...
The fire crackled softly in the fireplace. It seemed the minimal heat was never enough for me and Crowley's under heated bodies. But he just HAD to have the house with no heating system. I quietly hummed along to "Everybody Plays the Fool" while fiddling with my new laptop at Crowley's desk. Crowley was mixing himself a drink and was watching some ancient World War II film.
"You still messing that confounded thing, Luv?"
"It's not like your going to figure it out," I muttered in a sombre tone.
He smiled and went back over to the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.
"Dammit," I whispered angrily as I was once again taken back to the same screen I had seen a hundred times. That was when the power went out. Everything went silent except for the crackling of the fire. Crowley didn't seemed at all surprised. He looked over at me and gave me a small smirk.
"It's Crowley, right?"
This wasn't the first time since I died that I had seen my cousins. When I was in Hell I had seen Dean. Actually, I had been personally assigned to torture Dean into submission for Alistair. And then we had ripped souls apart side by side for ten years after that. And who hadn't heard that Sam had started the Apocalypse? Hell, I had been there when Lucifer rose from the cage. But now, with me being a demon and all, I had no emotion for the boys who were once my family. Still, I hoped that with my new body they wouldn't recognize me. I stood behind them and watched.
"So, the Hardy Boys finally found me. Took you long enough," Crowley said, stepping forward.
"Crowley," I said suddenly, startling the boys as hey turned around, guns raised at me. "The rug."
Crowley eyed the bunched up corner on the rug. Both boys looked between Crowley and I, acting like they had both been caught with their hands in the proverbial cookie jar.
Crowley turned over the corner of the rug to find, surprise surprise, a Devil's Trap. "That's an expensive rug," I thought "He's gonna be pissed."
Crowley stood suddenly, his anger obvious. "Do you have any idea...how much this rug cost?"
"Boys," I said quietly, two demon guards appearing before I barely got the word out. Sam and Dean both dropped their weapons as the demons grabbed them behind the arms. The boys struggled against the demons, regardless of knowing it was useless.
"This is it, right?" Both boys stopped struggling as Crowley brought the Colt out. "This is what it's all about." Crowley looked at it for a moment before raising it and pointing it at Dean, a completely determined look in his eye. He then moved it slightly to the right, shooting guard one, then guard two before a word could be uttered from either.
Sam and Dean both looked back at me, as I merely raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"We need to talk," Crowley said, lowering the Colt. "Privately."
Both boys looked at each other skeptically for a moment, then once again looked at me.
"Well?" I said quietly, motioning towards the door where Crowley's office was, prompting them to follow him.
"What the hell is this?" Dean asked, entering the small room.
"Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?" Crowley asked, standing behind his desk, fiddling with the gun in his hands. I walked up beside Crowley and made a smooth motion with my hand, the door slamming shut. Both boys looked behind them nervously at the slam of the door while Crowley continued talking.
"There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists at all," he paused. "Except that I told you."
"You told us?" Sam questioned.
"Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine," I said quietly, sitting on the edge of the desk.
"Why?" Sam asked, shooting me a look. "Why tell us anything?"
Crowley lifted the gun, pointing it at Dean yet again, obviously a stage to make him nervous.
"I want you," Crowley said, a deep tension in his voice, "to take this thing to Lucifer, and empty it into his face."
"Uh huh, " Dean said, obviously not buying it. "Okay, and why exactly would you want the Devil dead?"
"It's called survival," he said, placing the gun down hard on the desk.
"You forget, babe," I said, resting my legs flat against the desk and letting the top half of my body fall over the edge. These meetings were always so damn boring. If hanging half upside down on Crowley's desk amused me, well then fuck him and his no nonsense attitudes during these meetings. "That these two are functional morons."
"Yeah well you're functioning...morons, moron..." Dean muttered, his voice trailing off in embarrassment.
Crowley ignored us. "Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of human kind. To him you're just..."
"A little less then cockroaches," I said, rubbing my nails.
Crowley sighed. "If that's the way he feels about you..."
"Then what must he feel about us?" I finished.
"Finishing each other sentences, how adorable," Dean said, sarcasm written all over his face.
"But he created you," Sam said, ignoring us. Functioning moron, indeed.
"To him we're just servants," Crowley said almost sadly.
"If Lucifer manages to exterminate human kind, we're next." I said, equally as glum, playing with my long hair that almost touched the floor with the way I was sitting.
"And who the hell are you?" Dean finally asked angry at my constant input.
Crowley slapped my knee. "Leviathan, used to be a hunter. What was that, about seventeen hundred some years ago, luv?"
"About that," I said, taking no interest in my former life as a hunter. "Samuel, if you want a little nip of my blood I'd be happy to give it to you. All you have to do is ask." I snapped, getting tired of the fact that Sam had been staring at me the whole meeting.
Everyone looked towards Sam. "Sam," Dean asked quietly.
Sam shook his head, a pondering look on his face. "Nothing, she's just acting familiar."
I brought my legs forward, doing a semi somersault off the desk. "I Remind you of someone Sammy? Mind my asking? Little Jessica maybe?"
Sam gave me a hard. cold look.
"So, help me, huh?" Crowley asked, breaking the awkward silence. I turned my back to the boys, walking to Crowley's side. "Let's all go back to simpler, better times. Back to when we could all follow our natures. We're in sales, dammit!" Crowley said with an air of urgency and exasperation. Crowley wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. "So what do you say? What if, I give you this thing," Crowley picked up the Colt from the desk, grabbing it by the barrel. "And you go kill the Devil."
Sam reached out tentatively for the gun, and Crowley pushed in into his hand.
"Okay," Sam muttered.
"Great," Crowley said with a full smile and a chuckle.
"You wouldn't happen to know where the Devil is by any chance?" Sam asked.
"Thursday," I muttered, smile playing across my lips. "Birdies tell me he has an appointment in Carthage, Missouri."
Sam looked towards Dean as they both nodded. "Great, thanks."
Sam raised the gun, placed it right between Crowley's eyes, and pulled the trigger.
"What a shocking turn of events," I said as they realized the gun was empty of bullets. Sam swallowed hard. Crowley merely gave them a tight lipped smile.
"Yeah, you probably need some ammunition," He said, dropping his arm from my waist to go digging for the small pack of bullets.
"Uh, excuse me for asking," Dean said, as Crowley turned to look at them again, pack in hand. "but aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the Devil and lose."
"Number one: he's going to wipe us all out anyway. Two: After you leave here, we go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three: How about you don't miss, okay? MORONS!" He threw the pack at them and with a final look at the boys, we vanished.
A/N: I don't know what it is with Falcon and liking to hang backward on things. I guess it's just a quirk?
A big thanks for reading.
Reveiws are better then cold demons!
You can like my Facebook page (July Falconeri) to get Facebook updates on when I release a new chapter.
Thanks again for reading!
Lots of Love
~July Falconeri