To Serve the King of Hell

Dean hates witches, so I decided to write a story about one.

I do not own the world of Supernatural or its inhabitants. Only the OCs are mine.

Chapter 1

Marisa sat at her table in the hidden room, whose entrance was located behind a well-worn, wall-size tapestry that hung in her bedroom. She was closely studying one of the pages of her latest acquisition. It was a very old book of spells. A frown marred her pretty face as she tried to understand the phrase while looking over the illustration of a sigil beneath it. "Do mar...do marien...kariste...hell! I'll never get this one," she muttered to herself. She knew she was strong in the power it took to make these spells come to life, but she missed her mother, who had a natural ability for instruction. Under her tutelage, Marisa grew in strength and ability, but that came to an end when her mother had been killed by a particularly strong demon. Even being a powerful witch didn't guarantee a long life, when a demon was out to destroy you.

Marisa sometimes wondered if being a white witch was worth it, when dark forces were all around. Some had even approached her, promising gifts of wealth and influence if she swore to use her power towards their evil agendas. They had approached her mother as well, and always, her mother had refused. Eventually, one had broken through her most powerful protection spell and killed her.

Marisa wiped the tears that had slipped down her cheek. "I don't know if I'm as strong as you, Mom. Evil feels so much stronger." Marisa sighed, brushed strands of her long, auburn hair off her face, and tried to concentrate on the spell.

"Why bother working this hard? Your mother was just as determined as you are now, and look what happened to her."

The voice slipped into her thoughts as she looked up to see a rather non-descript man of average height, standing not 5 feet from her. He was dressed all in black, with only a sapphire-blue tie breaking the grim colour of his suit. With thinning black hair and a neat but scruffy beard, he seemed a dark figure indeed. She closed the book, and rose from her chair. At 5'7", Marisa was only inches shorter than the man, but she summoned her inner power that made her feel twice as tall. She felt it swirl within her, giving her strength against what she knew to be a demon. But this was no ordinary demon.

"I'm sorry, my dear. I know you're building a wall around yourself, but it won't be strong enough. You see, you're correct in thinking that I'm not just any demon. I'm the lord of all demons, the King of Hell himself."

Marisa should have trembled where she stood, but she refused to give in to the fear. "Lucifer?" she asked haltingly.

The man chuckled. "No, no. That one is safely locked away, forever, I hope. My name is Crowley. I've taken over from a rather...distracted Devil. The throne is mine now." He walked around the room, admiring the handiwork of generations of witches passed from mother to daughter. "I'm here to make a deal with you...for your soul."

Remembering her mother's conflicts with these creatures, Marisa was determined to not only deny the demon lord, but send him away in a maelstrom of energy. She began whispering the words of her strongest dispersal spell.

As a mini whirlwind began to form around Crowley, he merely smiled. With one wave of his hand, the maelstrom dissipated until it vanished completely. "You're very good, my dear, but it won't be that easy to send me away. So you may as well listen to what I have to say."

Standing her ground, Marisa answered haughtily, "Say your piece then, but first, I'll give you a preview of my answer. No."

Crowley stepped up the witch, and taking her chin roughly in his hand, he looked into emerald green, saying, "You do have unusually beautiful eyes, but one warning. Never mock me. What I'm offering you is a bloody good deal for someone of...your kind. You'd do well to listen." He released her and waited.

The accent that was a blend of English Cockney and Scottish brogue washed over Marisa like a soothing balm, a common trick used to put a supplicant at ease. But Marisa was not a supplicant. "No, thank you. I don't need your help in any way."

Crowley grinned. "Your mother said the same thing." That witch had, in fact, refused all demon advances, but he sensed within her daughter, a curiosity that might make her pliable to his whims. He had been a simple crossroads demon back then, but certain humans were known amongst the demon rank and file.

Marisa stepped closer. "You...you knew my mother?"

"Personally, no. But I knew of her. She was a strong witch with a soul any demon would have been proud to possess. I thought it wasteful for any of us to have simply killed her. Had I been King of Hell then, I would have taken that demon, and stripped him apart atom by atom over 1000 years. His pain would have been indescribable."

"Look, Mr Crowley..." Marisa began, before being interrupted by the demon lord.

"Just Crowley, love. Informal, that's the way I want things between us."

Marisa nodded slightly. "Ok, Crowley. I really appreciate your offer, but I want nothing to do with any of the inhabitants of Hell. You do understand, don't you?"

Crowley looked the young witch up and down, before granting her the boon of his smile. "Accepted, for now. Perhaps, later, you'll change your mind. You have some wonderful gifts there, which makes you a target, like your mother. I can protect you, for a price. And I won't give up...just yet." Then he was gone.

Marisa sighed with relief. She hoped she had seen the last of Crowley.

But each day at the same time, he would return to make the same offer. Whether she was in her kitchen preparing a meal, in her workroom creating a new spell, or as once happened, in her bathroom while she was showering. She had shouted at him angrily that time, until he'd fled to the living room to wait for her.

So when he appeared for what felt like the hundreth time, Marisa was pretty blase about it.

"Back again?" Marisa barely acknowledged his arrival.

"Of course. I'm a patient man. You see, I haven't given up on you yet."

Marisa was blending some herbal tinctures, creating a holistic cure for a skin ailment. She knew a few people who were aware of her gifts, kept it secret, and in return, were allowed to purchase special items. Holding up the glass bottle, she smiled with satisfaction as she whirled the liquid around in its container, watching it thicken. The mixture was perfect. She capped the small bottle, and placed it in a velvet lined box. Turning to the demon lord, she said, "I saw you in a vision last night."

Crowley's interest was piqued. His eyebrow went up as he waited for the witch to continue.

"I saw you far off in another land, green and untamed. Centuries ago, I'd wager. Another life perhaps? Your human life? Then I saw you in a grand mansion, which sadly, was later destroyed. Next you were in a trailer, of all things, looking pretty much like a thrift store reject. Finally I saw you as the King of Hell, arrogance oozing from every pore, and yet, there was...someone or something, who easily set you in your place, and more than once." Taking three steps up to Crowley, Marisa tilted her head as she looked at him. "You're an enigma I can't decipher." She smiled. "It takes away a bit of the fear factor, you know."

Crowley closed the small space that remained between them, feeling the heat of power eminating from the witch who continually defied him. "You would serve yourself better to be very afraid. You have no idea what I can do, what I have done." He grinned when he saw her smile vanish. She would agree to his offer soon, he was sure of that. But a part of him wondered if once she had been won, would he lose interest in her. No, it wouldn't happen. Her gifts would provide him with many new opportunities as well as entertainment enough to last centuries.

"Why would I even consider bargaining with you, Crowley? You're far from trustworthy," Marisa uttered, as if that was the perfect excuse to dismiss his offer.

"You're right, I'm not. But with you, that may change...if you give me what I want," he said harshly. Then the demon lord vanished.

Marisa exhaled the breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding in. Desperate for some way out of this bind she found herself in, she left her hidden room to go make some supper, and get a glass of wine. As she poured the ruby red liquid into her favourite goblet, an idea began to form in her mind.

OoOoOoOoOoOo

It was more than a week since Crowley had made his predictable appearance. She had begun to think he had indeed given up on her. Marisa was working on a new spell when he appeared behind her. She sensed him, but let him speak first, as if she were too busy for him.

"So what are we working on today?" he asked, coming to stand next to her as he watched her work her magic.

Closing the book she'd been reading, she responded with a slight huff, "I'm attempting to see how this 500 year old curse could be made into a workable spell for healing."

"Commendable," Crowley said, not without some sarcasm, "Now, what about my offer." He walked around her work table, scanning items but with no real interest.

"Alright." Marisa waited.

Crowley picked up a small bottle of blue crystals, and was peering at the tiny pinpoints of light reflecting off the many miniature facets, when the word penetrated his musings. He had firmly believed she would give in to him eventually. When it happened, however, he was slightly taken aback. "What?" he asked, putting down the bottle none too gently.

"Careful with that," Marisa demanded, picking up the bottle and placing it securely on a shelf.

Narrowing his eyes, Crowley wanted her to repeat what she had said, just to be sure. "What did you say, witch?"

Marisa moved to stand inches before the King of Hell, but there was no obeisance in her stance. She stared him in his dark eyes, and reiterated, "I said I've changed my mind. I will sell you my soul."

A smile began to form on Crowley's face, but was stopped by what she said next.

"With certain stipulations." Marisa turned her back on the human-turned-demon-turned-demon lord.

"And what would those be?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

Facing him again, arms crossed, she said, "First, I want to live twenty years."

"Ten," Crowley countered.

"Fifteen."

"Done!"

"All right, then, fifteen full healthy years. I don't want to make an agreement with you, only to be hit by a truck tomorrow."

"You wound me deeply, Marisa. I always keep my word. If we break our promises, trust wouldn't exist anymore between humans and demons, and where would that put my business? Of course, you'll be given exactly what we agree to. Anything else?" he asked, a smirk on his face. She was proving to be more difficult than most, but he was having so much fun.

"When my time is up, I want to drop dead. No one will know that anything killed me. No accidents, no diseases. I'll just...drop."

"And I'll be there to catch you. Agreed again," Crowley grinned, imagining that day.

"One more thing," Marisa said, hearing him sigh. "When I do arrive in Hell, I don't want to be placed on any torture device, or allowed to drift in some pool of hellfire. I want to be your assistant."

"My what?" he demanded, a frown on his face. He had to admit shock now. This had never been a request made by anyone, ever.

"You heard me. I want to work with you, for you if you prefer. I want to watch and learn everything. You said yourself, my soul is powerful, so why would you want to waste it by letting some lesser demon get his jollies making me suffer for all eternity?"

Crowley knew she was right. He didn't want to see her energy go to waste. He would rather make use of her power, but as his assistant? Did he really want a human soul underfoot? It was simply unheard of! Still, he hadn't been King of Hell for very long, and it was his right to create precedence. "Agreed," he replied, attempting to sound reluctant.

Marisa exhaled. She would become even more powerful under Crowley's tutelage, and when it was done, she wouldn't have to endure an eternity of suffering. She would continue to learn. Maybe, someday, she would take over Hell herself. She suppressed a grin as she imagined the prospect. "Ok, so what do we do now? Do I have to sign an agreement on parchment, in blood?"

Crowley laughed. "That's old-fashioned. These days, deals are sealed...with a kiss." He winked playfully at her.

A kiss. Well, it could be worse. Marisa looked over the King of Hell, measuring him up against human standards, knowing he wouldn't fit into that mold. He wasn't handsome in a pretty way, but there was something about the light in his eyes, and the expectant grin he gave her. Besides, it wasn't like they were getting engaged. It was a contract they were signing here. It was purely business.

"Well, are you ready to...sign?"

Marisa shortened the space that was between them, and stopped in front of Crowley. She tilted her head as she waited.

"You have to make the first move, my dear." Crowley grinned again. He never felt such pleasure at the acquisition of a soul before.

Marisa reached out, placing her hands on his shoulders. She leaned forward, and pressing her mouth on his, kissed him. She lingered a bit longer than she should have, before pulling away. "I don't feel any different," she said, looking down at herself.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "What did you think would happen? Horns would sprout? You'd begin to exhibit an eerie glow? Come, love, it's nothing like that." He reached out, and with his hand, caressed her cheek. "But rest assured, you're mine now."

A/N: I hope someone liked this beginning. Crowley is one of my favourite characters, and I'm glad or at least, hopeful, he will be prominent in Season 8. Thanks for reading.