My first Supernatural story. Each section is based around a prompt, but each section follows on from the next. Starts just before the season 6 finale. Enjoy :)

Faint

It was faint - barely there at all - but still enough that Castiel was forced to acknowledge it. He didn't want to of course, didn't want to accept that he felt anything besides contempt and loathing for the abomination that called itself the King of Hell. Yet there it was, that flicker of something that was primal and unholy. It was an emotion he had felt when Meg kissed him, and when he had watched the pizza man spank the babysitter. Now he felt it as Crowley moved into what Dean would deem his 'personal space' and called him darling in that sinfully smooth voice of his. The emotion mingles with his disgust for the demon and he wants to reach out and knock that smug smirk from Crowley's face.

His human body hums with need and he is unsure how best to satisfy it. Violence seems to be the only answer, but if he takes that option he risks ruining the precarious partnership that exists between himself and Crowley. He can't do that, not after everything he has done to maintain it. Yet if he does not do something he fears he will go mad...

Bitter

"Flee or die."

The first thing Crowley does after he leaves the warehouse is kill one of his minions. As the other demons look on in wary horror, he screams at them to get lost before they join the blighter. They scatter immediately, leaving nothing but the smell of sulphur behind. Only then does Crowley drop his angry facade and show just how bitterly disappointed he is.

"We had a deal."

Crowley won't pretend he's never messed with a contract, never altered the terms to suit himself. He's a businessman and when he sees an opportunity he takes it. Yet this was bigger than a contract – this was a deal of monumental proportions. It had been beneficial to both of them to keep the peace, yet Cas had turned on him and threatened him. He'd broken their deal, had destroyed Crowley's belief that there was some bond between them.

Now, with his plans destroyed, Crowley plots his next move. A vindictive smile crosses his lips as he assesses his options. He is a demon scorned, and he's out for revenge...

Crush

"Raphael, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

The woman stares at him without moving a muscle. "What do you want demon?"

"Why so cold darling? I've come with news about our mutual...friend, Castiel."

"Call me darling again and I will smite you where you stand."

Crowley resists the temptation to sigh. Castiel had never had a problem with his nicknames.

"Fine then, Raphael, I have a proposition for you. It involves you crushing this little rebellion going on in Heaven and being able to start the apocalypse just in time for Christmas."

Crowley senses he now has Raphael's undivided attention. Normally, he would resume his flirting, but his heart just isn't in it. There's no chemistry between them and Crowley senses there never will be. She (he) has her (his) head way too far up her (hell, angel gender was confusing) ass for there ever to be anything but contempt between them. The realisation is depressing, and Crowley begins to long for his old partnership with Castiel. Now that had been a relationship full of chemistry. Not that anything had ever happened between them, Cas had been far too worried about his little war for that, but there had been tension and passion, a kind of fiery hatred that elated Crowley and helped him come up with the best quips. The partnership he would form with Raphael would be the complete opposite of that; it would be cold and depressingly straightforward. No flirting. No insinuations. No semblance of equality.

Crowley mentally shakes himself. Now is not the time to be thinking of bridges burned. Now is the time for making new friends and playing with the cards he still has left in his hand...

Stifle

When the gate to Purgatory doesn't open, he knows something is wrong. There is a moment of awkward silence in which he tries to stifle his unease, but even joking about mispronouncing the spell does not dispel the feeling of dread creeping up his spine. Then Castiel appears and fear drops like a weight into the pit of Crowley's stomach.

There's something off about the angel. It takes Crowley a moment to realise that his posture is different, and that there is a sense of unwavering calm about him that is highly inappropriate in their current situation. Unless of course (Crowley adds mentally) you've just devoured millions of souls and are now infinitely more powerful than anyone else in the room.

Realising that it is over, that his bid for revenge has backfired, Crowley runs. He's angry and disappointed, but most of all scared. He is sure that once Castiel has ordered his affairs he will come for him. Crowley isn't stupid enough to believe that his old partnership with the former angel will spare him Castiel's wrath. No, he is sure, in fact, that the only reason he is not a smouldering pile of atoms right now is that Castiel has no intention of making his death quick. His betrayal, even though it was fully justified, will likely earn him an eternity of pain and torture. Dante wasn't talking bollocks when he said the ninth circle of Hell was reserved for traitors...

Bold

"Evening Honey, how was your day at the office?" Crowley turns around, a glass of scotch clasped in one hand. "I assume that's where you've been? Up in Heaven, changing the name on the door and handing out copies of your manifesto?"

Castiel watches the demon silently, impressed by how bold Crowley is given his current position. He tells Crowley this and the King of Hell laughs.

"I figured that, if it was my time, I was going to go out as I lived: looking stylish and sassing my associates. Unless getting down on my knees and begging would somehow change your mind about killing me?"

Crowley raises his eyebrows and Castiel takes this to be one of his innuendos. "That is not necessary. I have not come here to kill you."

Crowley's eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why?"

Castiel smiles benevolently. "Because I still have plans for you."

"I see."

Crowley sips his scotch, a thoughtful look crossing his face. Castiel can't help but enjoy the sight, enjoy the fact that this time he is the one in control. Castiel might always have been more powerful than Crowley, but in their previous partnership the demon had been the one with the plan and the resources to carry it out. Castiel had been a tool and always one step behind the King of Hell. This time, however, he is the one holding all the cards; the one making a deal the other cannot afford to refuse. He's not the bottom in this relationship, to use Crowley's phrase. Lust momentarily flares inside of Castiel at that thought, but it is quickly repressed. He has a new order to bring into existence and does not have time to be swayed by carnal emotion. He needs to be focused if he is to achieve his goals.

After a moment of silent contemplation, Crowley looks up from his drink and asks, "What sort of plans?"

Edge

"Have you completed your mission?"

Crowley grabs the bottle of scotch and pours a liberal amount into his glass. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

There is an edge to Castiel's voice. With a weary sigh Crowley turns to face the former angel. "Do you know how long it took to take control of Hell after the Apocalypse-that-never-was? A long time. Know why? Because demons are stupid little prats that think they know everything! You tell them to do something and they do the opposite! Or worse, they lie through their teeth and say they've done it and it's only when you get out the Hell Hounds that they reconsider their position and bloody do as they're told! So excuse me, kitten, if I haven't completed my bloody mission!"

Castiel's expression is stormy as he moves into Crowley's personal space. "You will refer to me as Castiel, and you will show me some respect if you value your miserable life."

Crowley bares his teeth in a sneer as he tries to reign in his frustration. "Fine, Castiel, I'll show you some respect. I'll respect that you want the job done and I'll do it as long as you accept that it's not as easy as clicking my heels and saying 'there's no place like home'."

Castiel retreats a step, clearly satisfied he has Crowley's cooperation. Crowley turns his back on the former angel and downs his glass of scotch before pouring another. He misses the good old days when Castiel wasn't all-powerful and possessing an ego as large as he claims his true form to be. Back then he didn't mind the nicknames and might even have been a little flattered by the flirting. Now he is too good for Crowley's endearments, which is quite depressing in a way. At least, Crowley muses, he hasn't yet been forbidden from using innuendos or he'd really be screwed...

Flood

The next time Castiel appears to Crowley, the demon is in his office in Hell. The large mahogany desk is covered in papers and folders and ominous looking boxes. Castiel takes in the clutter with a glance before turning his attention to the glowering King of Hell. Crowley has seen better days; his suit is torn, his hair uncombed, his face pale except for the dark circles around his eyes. Castiel vaguely feels curious and regretful that the demon lacks his usual elegance before Crowley opens his mouth and his attention turns to the hoarse growl issuing from his throat.

"What are you doing here?"

Images flash through Castiel's mind (Dean, his eyes angry and accusing; Sam, tears streaming down his face as he begs beings who are not there for mercy; Bobby, fearful yet standing right there besides Dean; Balthazar as he looked when he died) but he quickly represses them. "What happened here?"

Crowley sneers. "Whilst I've been busy completing the mission you gave me the paperwork has been ignored. The fact that you smote my secretary hasn't helped matters either."

"Does that mean you have completed the mission?"

"Yes," Crowley spits as he drops into the chair behind the desk. "Now, if that's all you came for, kindly see yourself out. I have five more minions lined up to scream at and possibly torture before I can move onto finding a new secretary to deal with the flood of crap all over my desk."

Castiel does not move. His curiosity about the status of Crowley's mission is not the reason he came here. He has a question, and he thinks Crowley is the only one with the guts to give him a straight answer. Crowley seems to sense this, as he releases a long drawn out sigh and gazes expectantly up at Castiel.

"Am I making the right choice?"

Crowley stares blankly for a moment before saying, "Bit late for second-guessing yourself isn't it?"

Castiel ponders this for a moment. Eventually he nods. "Thank you Crowley."

Crowley dismisses him with a wave. Castiel decides to let the slight slide. Crowley has done well and now does not seem like the appropriate time to reprimand him. He is still useful to Castiel and the former angel would prefer to have the demon work for him willingly. Crowley has shown that he is a self-interested being and loyal as long as he sees it to be to his advantage. So far Castiel has used fear to control the demon, but he is unsure of how much longer this tactic will prove to be effective. Now that Dean Winchester has declared war on him he cannot allow Crowley to join forces with the Hunter. It is not fear that prompts this caution, but convenience. He trusts the Devil he knows to keep Hell in order far more than any other demon crawling about the pit. He also finds Crowley much less repulsive than the other demons he has so far encountered. He still lacks a sense of morality, but he is far more inclined to reason than slaughter. It is a quality Castiel approves of, and he can't help but feel somewhat endeared to Crowley because of it. It is another one of the reasons he believes that he needs to change the nature of their relationship. Castiel would rather not have the new God and the new Devil at war with each other, secretly or otherwise.

"Crowley." The demon looks up, frustration apparent in his expression. "I will have one of my angels find you a new tailor and send him to your house. I expect my associates to look smart at all times...darling."

Castiel smiles faintly at the look of shock on Crowley's face and ascends to Heaven before the demon has a chance to form a coherent reply.

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