This story has been inspired by VoteKingCrowley and her genius story "During the Course of Ruling Hell".
While writing these chapters, I listened to some music and for the first chapter, it was "Ramble On" by Led Zeppelin. So, each chapter will be titled with that of a song.
Ramble On
He sat back in his sleek black chair behind his large rosewood desk, a lovely fireplace behind him with the roasting fires of Hell. All around his new study were bookshelves full of ancient books and documents from all of the deals that Crowley had currently going on. Amazing what people would do to get what they wanted.
He relaxed in his chair with a glass of Scotch and looked at it between sips.
Abaddon was finally dead. The bitch thought she could take his throne and sway his demons in her favor? Did she really think she ever could? Of course not. Crowley hated to admit it, but she was only dead because Dean stabbed her with the First Blade while bearing the Mark of Cain. However, Dean was only able to do so because Crowley helped him in getting the Mark and the Blade. So, Crowley really was the one to kill the sleaze.
Once the horrid whore was dead, all the demons that became loyal to her began to slither their way back. Crowley thought of giving the worst punishment that any demon could endure, but he had another idea: let them see the new demon in Hell.
Dean Winchester opened his eyes to a new world, still bearing the Mark of Cain and yielding the First Blade. Any demon would think twice of double crossing Crowley, especially since he was the one to awaken the darkness in Dean.
Now, sitting in his office, ruling Hell, things were back to normal with a bit more spice with a Winchester as a demon.
Although, Crowley wasn't back to normal. Ever since he was the third trial to closing the Gates of Hell, he's been feeling dreadful things and is addicted to human blood. He could still remember the embarrassing babble that spilled from his lips at the abandoned church.
"Band of Brothers"? "The Pacific"? None of this means anything to you? All those motels, you never once watched HBO, not once? "Girls"? You're my Marnie, Moose. A-and Hannah – she just – she needs to be loved. She deserves it. Don't we all – you, me – we deserve to be loved, I deserve to be loved! I just want to be loved.
And if that wasn't bad enough, there was the next part, where he could feel his humanity slipping back inside like a horrid piece of glass. However, at the time, it felt so much softer; softer than he's ever felt his whole life – human and demon. If anything, it's that feeling that haunts him.
Would it be possible, Moose… I'd like… to ask you a-a favor, Sam. Earlier, when you were confessing back there… what did you say? I only ask because, given my history… it raises the question… Where do I start… to even look for forgiveness?
Then his addiction for human blood was because he hadn't felt emotions in so long and the desire to be loved was still there, as much as he tried to brush it off. His whole human life, he never loved and was never loved. Being a demon just made that possibility of loving and being loved non-existent.
When human, he was raised in a dysfunctional home and later had a son who he didn't really love. Crowley would never admit to anyone, but it's only because he didn't know how to love. He abused his son to the point the kid believed he was nothing. Then, due to a deal he made, he went to Hell and was tortured and became a demon. Love was never present in all of his existence.
Still, he wanted someone to love him, but he wasn't even certain what that was exactly. Did he want a companion or a something more?
One thing was for sure; he wanted someone like himself, but not completely because there would always be only one Crowley in the entire world. He was unique. He just wanted someone that could give him what he wanted without high expectations for the same in return. Or something along those lines. He hadn't quite figured it all out.
However, yes, the King of Hell wanted someone to love him.
As he looked at his Scotch, an idea began to form and he entertained himself by expanding it: what if he searched for a Queen? She could be by his side and love him. It wasn't insane for a King to have a Queen. Who's to say he couldn't?
He imagined someone sitting on his desk with one leg crossed over the other, the skirt of her dress failing to cover her smooth legs. She could tempt him to abandon his work for a moment and indulge himself. He could kiss her neck as she wrapped her arms around his. She could be the distraction he needed in stressful times.
As he sipped his Scotch, he was certain he liked this idea. Now, the only question was: who would be his Queen? He couldn't just have any demon. No, some were just too eager to please and that was not his style. Some seek power and will do anything for it. Once again: not his style. The last thing he wanted to do was have demons crawling into his bed, so to speak, for the wrong reasons. He wanted sincerity, something genuine. He hated admitting it, but it was as haunting as his feelings and addiction.
He finished his Scotch and had to leave his office. He wasn't certain he'd find what he wanted out there, but he certainly wouldn't while being cooped up in his office.