1: The Queen and the Knight.
Crowley recognized the black tipped and banged blood red hair the moment they stepped into the dingy bar. He actually felt fear radiate through his body. "Dean, perhaps we should go somewhere else," he told the green eyed male beside him.
Dean Winchester turned his head to the King of Hell slowly and menacingly, "Why, Crowley?" When said King failed to give him an answer, Dean walked over the bar like usual.
He saw the redhead as soon as he eyed the bar. She sat there, swirling and ice cube around in the glass of what looked to be vodka with a long, black, claw-like fingernail, like a sitting duck. Dean smirked as he waltzed up and sat beside her, ordering himself a scotch. "What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"
She grinned sadistically from underneath her hair that concealed her expression from the man beside her. "Taking a vacation from my kingdom," she replied casually with a thick Irish accent. "How about you, little demon Dean Winchester?"
The elder Winchester was taken back by her response and anger immediately flooded his blood. "How the hell do you know who I am?"
"Oh puh-lease," she drawled, leaning her head back to reveal the most stunning steel grey eyes, "I can smell it all over you, boy."
Dean gripped the First Blade beneath his jacket. "Who and what are you?"
She grinned, baring two sharp fangs. "I am Morganna-Scarlet Haven Maddox, Queen of Contemede, Queen of Vampires," she purred with her accent dripping on every word. "Where'd little ole' Crowley scamper off to? Too chicken to face me still?" She faked a pout.
Dean made a face; Crowley was afraid of her? And what the hell was Contemede? "So you're a vampire?" He questioned.
Morganna grinned once more with her pointy white fangs, which were much unlike what Dean was used to seeing. "Aye, I'm sure I ain't like no vampire scum you've killed 'round here, eh? Those things are beasts - abominations cast from my kingdom. They have themselves a filthy lil' 'alpha' or whatever that's been a thorn in my arse for centuries. Too bad I'm older and stronger," she laughed, a sound that actually sent pleasant chills through Dean. "Oh, and don't worry about anyone in here - I compelled them all to ignore us." She added casually before sipping her drink.
"Why?"
She blinked, and her eyes flashed to a piercing emerald with cat-like slit pupils. "So I can play with my new chess piece." She grabbed him by the collar and threw him across the bar. "I've had demon blood before - low level though, not my favourite. But a Knight of Hell with the Mark of Cain and Winchester blood?" She licked her lips and fangs as she marked over to him, combat boots stomping on the floor. "I could only imagine what you taste like."
Dean looked up at her, finally getting a good look at her full figure; she wore a white renaissance style shirt with corset and flared sleeves, tight black jeans, and black combat boots. She was actually extremely attractive. He stood, wielding the First Blade, and smirking. "Sorry sweetheart, but that's just not gonna happen."
Morganna pouted. "Well, you killed my best friend - Abaddon - so yes, it is going to happen. I mean, look at what she did to my hair! Yeah it looks great and all but it's just not me," she sighed.
"Abaddon was your best friend?" Dean spat in anger and shock. "Yeah, you deserve to die."
She shrugged. "Go ahead and try - that hunk of nasty old bone can't kill me."
"It can kill anything and everything," he countered arrogantly.
"Try me," she challenged in a bored tone, putting a hand on her hip. "Hnh, I knew I shouldn't have worn white today," she shrugged once more. "I'll give you one free hit since you don't know me. Come on, pretty boy."
Dean charged at her and rammed the First Blade deep into her gut, expecting her to twitch and scream and die. He looked at her and watched her yawn before she yanked the blade from her abdomen, throwing it aside, and roundhouse kicking him into the bar. He didn't even have the time to comprehend what had happened until he found himself back on the floor.
"Come on, Dean," she whined. "I get lonely and bored. I need something pretty to look at and entertain me."
"You want entertainment?" He chuckled, eyeing her up and down. "Fine by me."
Dean stood and grabbed the redette by the throat, slamming her down on the nearby pool table. She began to laugh as he clutched tighter before wrapping her long, lanky legs around his waist and throwing him to the floor. She leaned down on top of him, getting right in his face with a menacing smile as she ran a hand up and down his chest. "Now that's what I'm looking for," she purred seductively.
"So, you want someone to fight you and throw you around?" He deadpanned, confused.
Morganna sat up, still straddling him, and shrugged. "Kind of, aye. My last boyfriends were terrified of me. So I ate them. You'll at least fight me."
Dean laughed a little. "If I don't fight you, you're gonna eat me?"
She grinned, baring her fangs once more. "I might eat you anyways - you smell like pie."
"As much as I hate to break up whatever is going on here," came Crowley, "Dean and I have business...your ladyship." He choked out the last two words.
Morganna's head snapped up to Crowley, cat's eyes a bloody crimson and harsh glare. "How's about you piss off, ya pathetic sack of jellyfish with a useless title? A Queen needs a Knight. And it's because of your sheer IDIOCY and FEAR that I lost my last one. So this one, is mine. Do you understand, Crowley? Or must I speak slower for that single celled brain of yours that may or may not exist?"
Crowley, unable to let the young queen demolish his pride, faked a tough exterior. "I don't think so, little miss. Now go back to-"
He didn't get the chance to finish as Morganna rose slowly, giving Dean a nice shot of her backside. Her hair flared and all the colour drained, leaving it white as snow; her cat-like eyes turned to normal but still crimson with some black around the irises as the veins appeared beneath them on her upper cheeks. She snarled, baring her miniature sabertooth-like fangs before her hand shot out at Crowley's throat, claw-like nails embedded into the flesh, as she lifted him off his feet.
"Don't ye ever even CONSIDER telling me what to do, ye sack of black smoke from a lonely, pitiful corner of Hell!" She bellowed with a thicker, old, Irish accent. "This dirt may not be my home territory but it sure as 'ell ain't yours either! Soon enough it will be my hunting grounds, Crowley. Ye will spend all eternity rottin' in ye shallow excuse of a kingdom. Now, GET OUT OF MY FACE! " She flung the prideless king out the door and across the street.
Dean stared up at the young woman in awe and caught sight of blood dripping from a mark on the side of her hand; he recognized it as some ancient symbol for Wrath. "Wrath, huh? Somehow that just doesn't shock me," he chuckled.
Morganna's face returned to normal, hair remaining white however, and she sighed as she flexed her hand, the bleeding stopping abruptly. "Aye. I'm the youngest of seven and killed my six elder siblings and parents. Unfortunately for me, some stark crazy witch turned them into strigoi - the most volatile and disgusting breed of vamps there is. I've killed five of the six in my years on this Earth permanently. All that remains is the second youngest and my idiot father."
"So let me guess," Dean humoured her as he stood, "each of your siblings is a sin?"
She nodded. "The first two were twins - Alexander was pride and an absolute dick about it, and Claudé was envy, always wanting to be better than his double; Katherine was greed and always getting spoiled rotten by darling daddy; Nikolas was a premature little glutton; Ophelia was sloth and never went anywhere; and Lacelyn was a lusty little whore always out to knock me down. I made sure her death was really painful and agonizing." She smirked at the memory.
"Well since you got Crowley off my dick," he grinned at her back, "I suppose I can find some sort of amusement with you."
Morganna tilted her head back at him, returning the grin. "Good, because you didn't have a choice."