Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Supernatural. All the characters belong to their respective owners, making no money here.
Just a Splash of Torture
"No, no, no!" Crowley growled, tossing the stack of parchment he'd been handed over his shoulder deliberately carelessly. "You've got this all wrong. This is not at all what I've been talking about."
A scarf tied neatly about her neck, the former-lawyer, now current lackey for the Senior Partners, Lilah smiled at the King of Hell. She gestured to the sunny neighborhood that both she and Crowley stood in the middle of, shaking her head.
"I don't understand. You said 'unassuming.' This is the very picture of unassuming," she said.
"It's predictable," Crowley argued. "And noticeable. And you wondered how you've had not one, but two escapees. Please. Every one of these damned houses and villagers look identical to one another."
"There is a deception spell in place, Crowley."
"Ahem?"
Lilah put that forced grin that Crowley just loved to see back on. It was so nice to see a loyal, contracted servant.
"Mr. Crowley," she amended.
"Yes, well, be that as it may, this place is still not getting its job done, now is it?"
He motioned for her to follow, and she did just that. The two entered the home, with its nice, neat little furniture and kitchen with all the amenities. They paused at the door to the basement, and Lilah let out a little, impatient sigh.
"But, if you'll forgive, that's not why you're here."
"Oh?"
Crowley pushed open the door to the basement and seemed amused when Lilah hesitated just a moment. He chuckled, beginning his descent down the wooden stairs.
"Spent some time here?"
"Me? No. It was unnecessary."
"Yet, you're afraid."
"No one likes the Big Man."
"No one ever does," Crowley grinned.
The Big Man was pretty much self-explanatory. He was the dungeon master, which was what was in the basement. A dungeon. Chains and all sorts of blades and weapons hung from the walls like hunting trophies. The Big Man, however, was nowhere to be seen. At this, Lilah blinked.
"Don't you remember the Blue Meanie destroying him?" Crowley asked her.
Lilah nodded. "Yes, but… I was expecting a replacement."
Crowley grinned again, and snapped his fingers. "Ask, and ye shall receive."
Lilah was instantly not impressed. Standing beside Crowley now was a boy, about seventeen or so in looks, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was dressed in a plain t-shirt underneath a gray hoodie and a pair of jeans.
"You're joking," Lilah huffed. "This is your solution to our torturing problem? A kid?"
"Lilah Morgan, meet Kyle. Or, as we like to call him down below, Alastair-lite."
Kyle grinned, flashing a pair of black eyes at the former lawyer, who was obviously beginning to get it. Crowley moved to stand beside her as they both gazed at the boy who was obviously one of Crowley's demons.
"So much better than Alastair Classic, what without that whole 'Hail, Lucifer!' thing," Crowley commented. Sighing, he turned, beginning to head back up the stairs, adding, "Right, well, off I go. People to torture, plans to hatch."
"Wait!" Lilah called. "This is it? This is all you've got for us?"
Crowley paused half-way up the stairs, turning to face her. "Darling, trust me, that's all you need. Oh, and maybe shake up the way the folks look out there. Completely suspicious, spell or no spell. Tell the Partners that I expect the agreed-upon number of souls, or else."
Lilah huffed, crossing her arms. "Or else what?"
Without turning around, Crowley said, "Oh, Kyle?"
A sword flashed in the dim lighting, and the next thing that Lilah knew, it was buried deep in her back. She gasped, choking on pain and blood, but not dying. She was already dead, wasn't she? Just before Crowley shut the basement door behind him, he heard her gargle, "You'll get your payment."
He loved these more relaxing jobs.