A/N: So, here's the next chapter! For some reason I struggled with this one, and I'm not quite sure why. Thank you all for your continued support on this wild ride. Hope you all enjoy!

***WARNING: Contains dialogue and interactions from season 8 episode 10, ("Torn and Frayed.")

***I've also posted a poll on my profile for this story! If you have the time, I urge you to go take a quick vote! Please and thank you!***

*Thank you to everyone who favorites, follows, and/or comments on this story. It is much appreciated!*

Send me your flowers, of your December.

Save me a drink, of your candy wine.

I've got just one thing I can't give you.

Just one more thing of mine.

-Mazzy Star

Chapter 10: Flowers in December

Scarlett's P.O.V.

The room we appeared in was shrouded in darkness, the only light provided by that seeping from my wound, and I clung weakly to the demon king as I was overcome by insurmountable pain. My shirt was drenched in blood, the liquid transferring onto his finely tailored suit as he scooped me into his arms, and I let out a inhuman wail that surprised even myself. I writhed against the pain, squirming in his hold as I tried to banish the horrible throbbing that pulsated through my entire body, bitting my bottom lip between my gnashing teeth. The tender flesh split open from the pressure and the taste of blood poured into my mouth, but it was nothing compared to the pain I was already in. He lowered my battered body onto a bed of black, silken sheets, sitting down beside me as I thrashed about wildly, my fingers digging into the ruined flesh around the wound. His hands wrapped restrictively around my own, pulling them away from the injury as more blood gushed out in response to my action. I could feel his eyes raking over my form as I threw my head back against the pillow, contorting violently as a wave of pain surged through me.

When the sensation ebbed I collapsed to the bed, giving Crowley a defeated look as he brushed my hair away from my face. "Am I dying?"

"You're going to be fine." I couldn't help but feel he was trying to reassure himself more than anything. "When I get my hands on that second-rate-"

"Crowley," I gently brought my hand to his jaw, and his brewing hazel eyes instantly focused on my dark ones. "He had his reasons."

"And I have mine." His expression was solemn and murderous as he draped his hand over the glowing puncture hole, blood flowing freely between his fingers. My blood. A moan escaped my bloodstained lips as my shoulder felt as though it were being ripped apart, or rather, forced back together, and I tried to escape his grasp. It was no use, he was too strong to fight against, and I finally gave up. Having no choice but to endure the gut-wrenching pain his touch inspired. Calling him every name in the book in the process. When he relinquished his hold there was still a persistent ache, but I glanced down to see the hole wasn't nearly as bad as it had been moments before.
A feeling of release came over my senses as the throb turned into a dull sting. "You healed me."

"For the most part." He rose his brows. "It's a little more difficult to use my healing powers on someone without making a deal."

There was only silence as we watched each other, his hazel eyes revealing an array of emotions. I knew I should be worried, afraid of what would happen next, but I wasn't. When I looked at him I felt… secure. That I could do or accomplish anything if I simply had him by my side. I took these quiet, unspoken moments to look at his appearance. He was dressed immaculately, wearing a pristinely made, all-black suit, and a black tie outlined with a silver, paisley design. His face was comforting, the strong curve of his jaw and the delicate lines that wrinkled his forehead curiously. Those colorful, slightly large eyes that keenly observed and took everything before him into account. A mind that could scheme it's way out of almost anything. Yes, he was regal, deserving the title of king simply because of his eloquent mannerisms and ruthless behaviors. Even after seeing what he had done to Kevin Tran, and knowing he skillfully killed and tortured without remorse, I admired him. The King of Hell. It was wrong, but I couldn't control the relentless pull I felt towards him from the very beginning. Maybe it was my demon ancestry. Maybe not. I'm not entirely sure, but there was something comforting about his thick brows that raised ever-so condescendingly in normal situations. Right now they were scrunched, serious and pondering. He was handsome and imposing in every aspect, and I was happy to be there. With him.

"Thank you." I breathed, reaching out my hand.

Crowley slid his fingers into mine, and I pulled him closer, pushing myself up with my good arm. Immediately his expression softened as I came excruciatingly close to his lips, the smell of his musky cologne wrapping around me in an intoxicating manner. My eyes darted back and forth across his expectant ones as I prepared for what I was about to do. A smirk tugged at his lips, but it didn't come across as smug or conceited. It seemed more like he was eagerly awaiting the action. My lips parted as I slowly leaned in, eyes closed, but I was interrupted as his mouth came crashing against mine. The movements were deliberate and commanding as his strong hands cupped either side of my face, brushing strands of my hair away frantically as I clung to his neck. His lips burned against my own, our tongues entwining as the kiss deepened, and I gave a sigh of satisfaction. His teeth nipped at my swollen bottom lip, teasing the cut and causing it to bleed once more, blood coursing down our chins as we relished in the feel of our mouths merging together rhythmically.

I cringed, pulling out of the kiss as my shoulder ached in protest, falling back onto the bed, and we were left panting. Our eyes locked, both surprised by the passion invoked by such a simple action, and I could already feel a blush working it's was into my cheeks. Blood dripped down his chin, and he pulled out a grey handkerchief embroidered with a crimson 'C,' handing it to me. I dabbed my lip gently, and when I was finished I extended it to him, but he simply licked the blood away. Tucking the handkerchief back into his pocket.

Crowley cleared his throat, but his voice came out rough. "I hate to leave after such an…" He paused, arching his brows as he stared down at me, thinking of the right word to say. "Enthralling activity, but I'm afraid I have some matters that need attending to. I'll be back shortly, darling."

Before I could respond, he vanished, and I sorely readjusted myself. My mind begged me to think of what had just happened, but I was too drained from the wound and lack of sleep. Slowly I drifted into the fog of unconsciousness, but I didn't dream. No. I was met only by a black abyss that welcomed me into it's outstretched arms.

Crowley's P.O.V

Three days had passed since bringing Scarlett to Hell. She was still out cold, and showing no signs of waking any time soon. I approached my bed slowly, watching her chest move up and down lullingly with each inhalation of breath, her hands splayed out in front of her torso. Clutching the sheets slightly. I took off my coat and shoes before climbing in beside her. She flinched instinctively at the sudden intrusion, but quickly relaxed once more, mumbling quietly. I smirked slightly as I observed her facial features, lingering significantly longer on the lips that had so amorously moved against my own. The memory filling me with the urge to kiss her again as my eyes continued to wander, noting the swell of her breasts and the curve of her prominent hips. I had reveled in the sight of countless naked women, but I could only imagine what delights awaited beneath her clothes.

My eyes finally secured the injury on her shoulder, and I found myself engrossed with the sight, a prominent frown coming over me. That damn, bloody, cherub. I hissed inwardly as the image of Castiel attacking Scarlett tore through my mind. Ridding me of my prior bliss. Torture was too good for him after what he had done. I wanted his head mounted on a stake. His body desecrated to the point where no one would dare lay a hand on my Scarlett ever again. Every inch of me tensed as I recalled grabbing the Demon Tablet. It was no mystery to me that she wouldn't have been harmed if I had taken it for a loss, but I had to have- No, I needed, both. I shook my head as these many foreign emotions swirled inside my head, nipping at the back of my mind like a Hellhound pursuing someone who's ten years had come to pass. I knew I needed to keep myself in check, this yearning I had for her was dangerous. Threatening to compromise my very existence if I allowed it to remain. She was a weakness, my weakness. One that enemies would take advantage of to bend me to their will. I needed to focus on the reason I followed her the night we met. To remind myself that she was a lethal weapon that would prove useful in the face adversaries. A ploy. A chess piece. I needed to throw out these impractical reveries that could never come to fruition.

A content sigh escaped her lips as I dwelled in my thoughts, and I gave a small smile as she nudged closer to me in her sleep. That was all it took to banish the war raging within. Her very presence bringing me from the edge of something I had always found untamable. My desire for more: more power, more sex, and more of anything I could have possibly done without in my time as a human. After that disaster of a dinner party with her family, I had only truly craved one thing, and it quelled the raging storm of insatiable appetites that continuously ensued within me.

Her.

"You'll be safe with me, love." I murmured quietly, absentmindedly tangling my fingers into her coppery hair.

She was back, within my reach, and I had no intentions of letting her slip away ever again.

Crowley's P.O.V, Continued

I pushed the metal door open, closing and sliding the bar into place as I stepped inside.

I turned to the demon before me with with a heavy sigh. "What on earth could you possibly need now, Viggo? I've given you every torture instrument known to man. Short of a Neil Diamond album." Irritation laced my words due to the fact he had pulled me away from Scarlett. Again. She had been unconscious for almost a week at this point, and he seemed to make it his duty to call me away from her. Visits to view his snail-paced progress in prior days had be nothing less than a disappointment. I was on the verge of replacing him altogether.

"I've found something, sir. I need a translator." He moved his hands around excitedly.

"You're looking at him." I walked down the steps and across the room, surrounded by various tools that could be used to extract information from a torture subject. "Show me."

I grabbed a clean apron off one of the hooks that was perched on a brick support beam, and put it over my head. Viggo leaned down in front of the angel, who was secured to a chair with leather straps. A metallic instrument concocted by Viggo himself graced Alfie's head like a crown, numerous bolts and screws adorning the contraption. His Weiner Hut uniform was splattered with blood, and there were multiple slice marks on his cheeks as he stared blankly into space. Viggo twisted one of the metal picks in Alfie's forehead.

The angel straightened up, his voice monotone. "Zoh-bah-leh-ta."

"What have we here?" I watched the angel intently as I continued adjusting my apron.

Viggo stepped away, pointing with both forefingers definitively. "I think it's Enochian."

"Of course it's Enochian, you pigeon." I snubbed as I looked Alfie over. "The question is, why is he speaking Enochian? What have you drilled into here, Viggo, huh?" I moved forward and gave the pick another twist.

"Zoh-bah-leh-ta. Sah-teh-voch-leh." Alfie droned out.

I looked down in realization. "Bollocks."

"What is it, sir?" Viggo asked as I turned to face him.

"Well, what our feathered friend was uttering essentially was, 'You, celestial being, have been created to be an angel of the Lord.'" I paused for a moment as Viggo digested this. "You've got into his operating system. His factory settings."

He shook his head in confusion. "From who? God?"

"Who the hell cares where it comes from? Let's find out what makes this flying monkey tick." I jerked the pick again, and Alfie screamed, his mouth opening in anguish. He repeated the same statement, and I turned the pick again, causing his scream to reach a higher pitch. A wave of satisfaction came over me with the sound. I still clearly remembered what had happened at the auction, and I was happy to teach him a lesson about who not to mess with. We did this for hours, Viggo and I. Trying our damnedest to get some new information out of the compliant pile of mush before us, but, for the most part, coming to no avail. We pushed on, however, despite how daunting the task seemed to be. This angel had information I needed, and I would do anything in my power to get it out of him. Sunlight faded from the windows, and it was well into the evening, after numerous turns of the various picks, that Alfie said something entirely new to our ears.

"Voh-meh-pah-rah-less. Voh-meh-pah-rah-less."

"What is it?" Viggo questioned from behind me.

"That was tablet talk." I rose my brows, glancing at him over my shoulder. "Protecting the word of God seems to be hardwired into these dingbats."

I twisted the same pick again, and Alfie gave out a earsplitting yell, then grunted resentfully until he fell back into his trance. "Zod-leh-fah."

"'Demon Tablet.' Tell me one I don't know, huh?" I frowned as I turned the pick, and the angel let out another pitiful cry.

An explosion sounded from the within the factory, causing the floor to shake, but I remained concentrated on Alfie as he continued to groan and scream in pain.

"M-M-Mr. Crowley, not that this isn't important," Viggo stuttered nervously. "But perhaps we should be making preparations to leave. We-We seem to be under attack."

I faced him, holding up my finger. "Did you say something?"

Viggo dipped his head in understanding and I returned to my work. There was pounding at the door, the noise banging through the room as though it were going to come crashing down. I could hear muffled voices on the other side, resembled those of Moose and Squirrel, but I was too caught up in what Alfie had to offer to care. I gave the pick another generous twist, then another. The assault on the door only grew more vigorous as Alfie shrieked, as though bodies were being used as a battering ram.

I stepped away from Alfie, giving him a harsh glare. "As you were saying?"

"Bah-nah-sah-ee."

"Yes." I threw up my hands, urging him to continue as the door rattled violently.

"Ar-doh-zah-feh."

"Spit it out, you heavenly pile of filth!" I snarled, my face contouring in rage, sparing a quick glance at the shaking door.

"Pah-deh-rah." He said slowly, finished.

I was in complete shock as I stared into Alfie's unblinking eyes. "Holy mother of sin."

"What? What is it?" Viggo pressed.

"There's an Angel Tablet."