So I'm in a production of the music man and it takes up every second of my life that I'm not working and ohmygosh I'm so lame...

ALSO HEY CHUCK/GOD! LOOK AT US ALL BEING RIGHT. how could they not make him God? Eh? Okay, enjoy.

Crowley stared at his mother's statue in contemplation. He wondered how someone so lovely could have turned into such a raging bitch. He almost wished that she hadn't turned into stone so he could ask her why she hated him. Why she wasn't a good mother, why she never loved him the way he so deserved. And boy did he deserve it, he'd told Moose as much in his human-blood-fueled monologue.

He sipped at his Scotch, from a bottle of The Macallan 18 year, the good stuff, and sighed deeply. He hated not knowing things, he hated not getting answers, and he hated that he had no clue how to turn Rowena back into her live human form; he hated the fact that he wanted to do it at all even more.

The door opened and he didn't turn, he'd been expecting one of his minions any minute with the weekly soul intake.

"Get it over with." He crooned and when he didn't get a response, his blood began to boil. He was already in a bad enough mood as it was, he didn't need his lackeys disobeying his direct orders. He turned, his brow furrowed and his jaw set, ready for yelling, when he was thrust backward, his glass of scotch crashed against the ground and he crashed to the floor.

"What the-" He shouted, ready to go off at whoever dared insult him in such a manner.

"Crowley." He saw Willow standing before him, but it wasn't really Willow. Her hair was black, her skin was pale, her eyes were the lovely shade of deep black that all demons possessed.

"Willow."

"Guess again." She smirked as she shook her head, her hand twitched up and soon Crowley was back on his feet, though he didn't have control over his vessel.

"Who are you?" He asked, unable to remember the name of the demon he could see just below the surface of Willow's face.

"Awe, you don't remember your old Hell mate, Fergus?" She clicked her tongue and shook her head again as she sauntered forward, her stride completely and utterly predatory, "Good old Baal from way back when."

"Baal." Crowley echoed, his memory working a mile a minute to recall anything that could possibly help him out of his current situation.

"Mhm." She stood before him, her fingers walked up the buttons of his suit jacket, leaving each one popped in its wake, she leaned forward, her lips next to his ear, her body pressed against his. If he hadn't been in immediate danger, he'd have found this situation completely erotic; still did, actually, "Don't go getting all hot and bothered, your highness." She said his title like it was poison, her tone turned dark, and she bit at his ear lobe. Crowley shivered with fear as she pushed away from him, her lips still twisted into a smirk that looked unnatural on the witch's face.

"Willow, I know you're still in there, you have to fight it."

"Oh, stop. You and I both know that only works when the Winchesters do it." She shook her head, disappointed with his ignorance, "I'm only here to talk, Crowl."

"Really?" He asked, brows raised, interest peaked.

"Yeah, talk, and, y'know... Tear you limb from limb." She'd made herself comfortable in his throne and tossed one leg over the side, resting her head on her hand, she stared and waited for his reaction.

"Ah, that makes more sense." He looked down at his feet, he refused to show fear. Though his vessel's heart was pounding in his ears and his head was screaming to get away, to run, to do anything.

He actually prayed to Castiel for a moment, before he remembered he didn't have a soul and the angel wouldn't hear him.

"What, pray tell, did you want to discuss?" Crowley tried to make his voice as calm as possible, but there was still that underlying tremor of fear that made Baal grin wickedly.

"Regime change."

"Obviously, if you mean to kill me, you would want to usurp the throne. It's old, darling, give me something new." He tried to feign boredom.

"No, you're misunderstanding me. A regime change, to the world. Why do we hide in the shadows, we are many, angels are few. Humans, bugs ready to be squashed beneath our feet. Why haven't we taken over this son of a bitch."

"Leviathans tried that... Lucifer tried that... Hell, Azazel tried that. It never works. What works is micromanagement and the soul selling game."

"It's old, boring. I'm bored, Crowley. TO TEARS!" She shouted, standing, she rushed forward and Crowley thought he was about to die, but she halted right in front of him, her arms on either side of his head, her face dangerously close to his, so close he could feel her words on his cheek as he turned away from her, not wanting to face her head on, "You're old, boring, weak, laaame. I'm tired of it. I want something new, something fresh and exciting. I want this world to bow at my feet. I want them to recognize me as their new master, to tremble and quake with fear at the sight of me."

She leaned in to his neck and smelled him deeply; a moan emitted from her throat and it turned into a predatory laugh, "Quite like you are right now. It's radiating off of you, King." Never before had he heard his title be said in such a derogatory manner. It made him feel filthy and embarrassed. He felt weaker than he ever had before.

"They'll never defect to your side." He muttered, though he knew it wasn't true and by her answering laugh, so did she.

"Most of them already have, Crowls." She pushed off the wall and strolled away, over to his decanter, she poured herself a glass, turning around, she sipped slowly, tauntingly, "They like that they can possess vamps, sure... But the witches of this world are so much more powerful than your mum, or any of the other witches we used to have. They don't require demonic power to fuel them. They're born with it, it's innate. They draw from the earth."

"So demons, plus witches-"

"We will rule." She grinned as she downed the rest of his scotch.

"What about the-"

"The Losechesters?" She huffed, "Sure, they'll come, with their slayer and their vampire and all those other losers. They call themselves the Scooby gang. It works for them, they are a bunch of meddling kids. Though I'm sure that Xander guy is actually forty something."

"And when they come?" Crowley asked, though he already knew her answer and he found a part of himself beginning to panic.

"I will devour every last one of them. I will possess the slayer with one of my best, of course, an anti-possession tattoo is easy to remove. I'll probably take Sam, he's hunky." She stopped her monologue to wink at Crowley before continuing, "But Dean, Castiel, Spike, Dawn, Xander, Anya... They'll all die. Their deaths will be horrible, unending."

"Dean could prove useful to you, he's been a demon before." Crowley didn't know why he found himself pleading for the Winchester's life.

"Your crush on him is pathetic." She laughed, "It'll be better for you in the long run if I just kill him now, get it over with."

"I thought you were going to kill me?" He asked, she laughed and strolled up to him again, her arms crossed, she shrugged and tilted her head, it was almost endearing. Almost. If it hadn't been so damn murderous.

"I will kill you, don't think for one second that you're going to survive this. It's just that first I want you to watch as I burn it all down."

Baal/Willow is FUN to write. Holy poop.