Chapter Twenty-Five:

Athaya woke up with a groan and a headache.

She rolled sluggishly off the couch and saw Chelsea on the floor, still in the same spot as the night before. She gave her a gentle nudge with her toe and croaked out with a hoarse voice: 'Hey. Sleepy. Wake up. I've got a plane to catch,' she lied, remembering that Crowley would probably pick her up at some point that day.

'Whuu?' her friend murmured, and Athaya grinned at the trail of saliva that was on Chelsea's face.

'Tearful goodbyes to make. Going back to Australia,' Athaya prompted. 'Is this ringing any bells?'

Chelsea cracked her eyes open and moaned. 'Ugh. Yeah. It does,' she said groggily, and Athaya's grin widened.

'You have drool on your face,' she commented, and Chelsea sat bolt upright. At the quick movement, she groaned loudly.

'Oh, Jesus. Quick. Get the coffee and some aspirin,' Chelsea waved her hands about blindly, and Athaya helped her to her feet, swaying as her own headache pounded against her skull. Between having visions, feelings and getting hung over, Athaya was having far too many headaches lately.

Athaya walked over to the sink and set about making a pot of coffee. A few minutes later, Chelsea appeared at her side, a bottle of aspirin in hand. Athaya gratefully accepted, and dry swallowed a couple, ignoring the way they clung to her throat on the way down.

'So. Today's the day,' Chelsea ventured, and Athaya nodded.

'Today's the day…' she murmured, took a sip of coffee, wincing at the taste. She'd never liked coffee. She was a tea person. However, after a second, she sucked it up and continued drinking, hoping it would give her energy to get through the day. This day.

Crowley.

Crowley's head was pounding, after getting well and truly smashed the night before, in an attempt to forget his troubles about Athaya.

He thought about his earlier observation of inebriation and how he quite enjoyed the benefits of his meat suit. However, in that moment, he cursed the human body's susceptibility to pain. And hangovers.

Staring out of his office window, he sipped a coffee, grimacing at the taste. Coffee was a disgusting substance, he'd decided long ago. He'd much prefer a tea. But…it was a coffee that might give him enough tolerance and energy to get through the day in order to fulfil his promise. His deal.

He sighed and put the coffee down, preparing himself to come face-to-face with his – and he was loathe to admit this – fear. The girl who had the worrying ability to make him forget who he was, and what he stood for, which (if you thought about it) was torture, deception, evil and all things hellish. But that was beside the point. He didn't like how she changed what he wanted. Because what he'd wanted had changed. It was that frighteningly simple, if he thought about it.

Athaya.

Two Hours Later

Chelsea had dropped Athaya off at the motel she was staying at, and – as per her promise – a tearful goodbye ensued. Athaya was going to miss her friend, and hoped that one day, she'd be able to come back. She didn't know if her hopes were realistic or not.

Before Chelsea left, Athaya had gotten changed into a pair of black jeans and an old AC/DC t-shirt, throwing on a pair of worn out leather combat boots, wrapping herself in a warm jumper. Once she was satisfied she looked as if she were about to hop onto a plane, she'd given Chelsea back her clothes and they'd said their goodbyes, with promises to keep in contact and stay safe.

Athaya wasn't sure she could do either of those things.

After she'd watched Chelsea drive away in her little yellow Buggy, Athaya shut the door, and was about to turn around to sit on the bed and wait for Crowley, when she heard a knock at the door. Athaya blinked in momentary confusion, wondering if Chelsea had come back, but it had literally only been a couple of seconds.

Upon opening the door to reveal a terse-looking Crowley, Athaya's confusion faded and she stood aside, mumbling: 'Come in,' quietly.

Crowley complied, and he took a few steps inside before turning to face her.

'You've said your goodbyes, I presume?' His words were short and clipped, and Athaya tried not to wince.

'Uh, yeah.' She swallowed. 'So, what happens no – '

Athaya was interrupted as Crowley grabbed her bag with one hand and put his other on her shoulder, transporting them to a completely different place.

Athaya stumbled at the sudden change in setting, and she felt Crowley's hand on her arm tighten momentarily, making sure she didn't hurt her leg, before he let go, walking away from her and towards two very large wooden doors. Athaya couldn't help the feeling of hurt that came from his sudden aversion to touching her, and her shoulder felt cold, as if the absence of his hand had drained any warmth from it.

She glanced around at their new surroundings, and saw that they were in a grey, stone courtyard of some kind. In the centre there was a small fountain of an angel, and Athaya found herself smiling at the irony. Crowley was anything but angelic.

'Where are we?' she asked quietly as she attempted to follow Crowley up a few steps to the doors. She looked away from him quickly when he glanced towards her and held a hand up, suggesting she should stop.

'Scotland,' was all he said as the great doors were opened from the inside.

'Welcome back,' a tall, elderly man, dressed in a suit and bow tie welcomed the two of them inside, and Crowley nodded, looking down at his watch.

'Is anyone else nearby?' he inquired, and the man shook his head.

'I've given everyone the day off, but they'll be back as soon as you're both settled,' the butler said, and Athaya recognised a faintly Scottish accent, overwhelmed by a decidedly English one.

Crowley nodded and walked back over to her, placing his hand back on Athaya's arm and transporting them to another place. This time she didn't stumble, instead looking around in wonderment.

The room they were standing in was extravagant to say the least. A beautiful, large room, bigger than the entirety of Chelsea's flat altogether, with dark, wooden walls and a colossal, four poster bed reaching towards the ceiling stood in front of her. It was like something out of a period romance novel.

Athaya barely had time to take in her surroundings before Crowley spoke, finally looking at her properly for the first time since he'd seen her.

'Ian will bring your bags up for you shortly,' he said hollowly, and turned to leave. He has a butler Athaya couldn't help but smirk to herself. Of course he does.

Crowley was already walking back towards the door, but Athaya stopped him. 'Wait, uh, Crowley?' she called out, feeling at a loss to his blatant ignorance of her. He paused, but didn't turn around.

'Yes?' he asked politely, although Athaya could hear the strain in his voice.

'I'll…uh…' she wanted to say something meaningful, something to try and heal the broken bond between them. However, all that came out was a soft: 'Nice place. It's beautiful.'

He let out a small puffed laugh of amusement. 'Thank you. Welcome to Beannacharain,' he said tersely before walking out the door, down the hall and out of sight. Athaya's eyes trailed after him and she felt a pang of loss and anger spark in her heart. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

'Stupid demons and their stupid power complexes,' Athaya murmured quietly to herself, just as the butler walked through the door, her bag in his hand. He glanced at her with a smile.

'What was that, Miss?' he asked, and Athaya shook her head.

'Oh, um. Nothing. It's very beautiful here,' she said quietly, glancing around once more, pushing any thoughts of Crowley out of her mind.

'It is indeed, Miss. We're situated on the edge of Loch Beannacharain, which you can see from the window over there,' he pointed towards a small alcove on the opposite side of the room, where a window from floor to ceiling was situated, allowing a picturesque view of the lake below. 'Of course, cloaked from the outside world,' the man continued. 'Humans cannae see the castle,' the elderly man said with a smile.

'Oh,' Athaya said. She could have sworn he was human. 'You're not…?' Human? She left the sentence hanging and the man chuckled.

'No, rest assured, I'm not a demon. Merely under one's employ, Miss Woolfe. My name is Ian McKee. I'm the butler,' he said rather obviously and Athaya smiled.

Oh. So that's why Crowley had transported her to her room. Ian knew that he was a demon. Athaya wondered if all the staff knew. 'Please, Mr McKee,' she said politely. 'Call me Athaya. Miss Woolfe sounds strange,' she said and he nodded. Athaya wondered how much Crowley had told the staff about her. The butler knew her name, at least.

'Of course. And you may call me Ian, if you feel so inclined,' he said with a grin. 'Now, there's a wheelchair over here for you,' he motioned towards it and then brought it over to her, placing her bag on the bench by the foot of the bed.

'You didn't have to bring my bag up here. I could have held on to it,' she said as Ian wheeled the chair over. However, he just shook his head good-naturedly.

'If you were to carry your bags, then I'm afraid I would be out of a job, Miss,' he smiled good-naturedly, and came to a halt in front of her. Athaya slowly spun and eased herself into the wheelchair, noting that this one was much more comfortable than Bobby's. She smiled at the memory and then frowned, remembering all the friends she'd left.

'Is the room to your liking, Miss?' the butler inquired and Athaya nodded mutely, still in shock, slightly.

'I think so,' she said with a wide grin, after a moment, forgetting about the Winchesters and focussing on the present. 'Thank you for bringing my bag up and helping me.'

'My pleasure, Miss Athaya. I'll come and get you when dinner's ready.'

'What time is it?' she asked, realising she didn't know.

'About six o'clock. It should be ready in around two hours. There's a clock above the mantelpiece,' he nodded towards a burning fireplace on the other side of the room, and Athaya realised that must be how they kept the castle warm. She had thought it strange that it wasn't cold when they first arrived.

'Ah. Thank you, Ian,' she smiled gratefully.

'My pleasure,' he smiled and then grew thoughtful. 'Oh, but…you might not want to mention the demon affair to the other staff. I'm afraid I'm the only one who knows the Master's…disposition,' Ian said with a knowing look, and Athaya nodded.

'Right. Of course. Thank you.'

'Please feel free to wander – well – wheel around. I'm sure I'll be able to find you. I might add that there's a rather exquisite library just down the hall. The book collection is…quite substantial,' Ian said and Athaya smiled. 'I'd be happy to escort you there before I leave, so you know which room it is?'

'That would be amazing. Thank you,' Athaya let go of her tight breathing. She realised she'd been holding it in since Ian had mentioned the two hours between now and dinner. She had no idea what she would have done while she waited for the meal to arrive, but thankfully Ian had provided her with a solution.

Ian grabbed the handles behind her and started wheeling her out, taking a left and following a lamp-lit, beautiful hall with a rich red carpet and many paintings. After passing by seven doors on the left and six on the right, Ian paused as they came to a large, solid-looking door, and he unlocked it with a key. He then pulled a second key out of his pocket and gave it to her.

'This will open most locks in the castle, Miss Athaya. Please feel free to wander about, and if you're having any trouble, ring one of the bells and either myself or another staff member will come to your assistance.'

Athaya nodded, suppressing a grin at the butler's formal tone, and rolled into the huge room that lay beyond the door. She gasped loudly at the enormity of the room, and she felt her heart swell with happiness. She loved reading. And oh, there were so many books.

The ceiling was at least ten metres off the ground, and the bookshelves went from floor to ceiling, creating a maze-work of books. The edges of the room were also lined with bookshelves, although Athaya could see an antique desk underneath a window also. She turned her head to wish Ian farewell, but he was already gone.

Thank you, she thought, and started making her way through the maze of books. What Athaya really needed right now was an escape, and what better way of escape than through reading? She couldn't handle thinking about Crowley right now. She'd definitely accepted that telling him about her feelings had been the wrong decision. Evidently it was…Look at the two of them now. Crowley had barely said five words to her since their argument, and Athaya was starting to resent his immature approach to the topic. If he hadn't overreacted, then none of this would have been an issue.

Athaya once again thought of Bobby's words, how Crowley wasn't used to giving things, and that he might have felt pressured into doing so after her confession. She wished he'd understood that she hadn't wanted anything in return. Just for him to accept her feelings for him, instead of pushing them away.

After wheeling around for a few minutes, pulling down whatever book she thought caught her fancy, she came to the fireplace she'd glimpsed from the entrance, and wheeled the chair next to a red, plush lounge, which she manoeuvred herself onto with only a little difficulty.

Once she was settled, Athaya set about choosing a book to read. She'd just grabbed anything that she fancied, which included a few large, ornate, hard-covered tomes, a couple of smaller, thinner, plain books and one large, black leather-bound one that had no decorations other than a small circle that had some kind of star on it…Athaya didn't know what it was called. It had six points, three pointing upwards, and three downwards, and was one of those patterns that was infinite, like the letter 8. Athaya traced her fingers along the edge for a moment and then flipped the front page open. Inside, the star was there again, and Athaya looked at it strangely. It felt familiar, like she should know what it was…even though she'd never seen it before. Athaya was still suffering a little from her hangover, though, so she didn't trust if her feeling was accurate or not.

As Athaya leafed through the mysterious book, her hopes at discovering what the symbol was faded. It wasn't in English. Unfortunately, Athaya had no idea what language it was in, and sighed. Another mystery. She pushed the book to the side, placing it on top of the small table next to her, and picked up another book, one of the smaller, more modern looking ones. It was about 250 pages long, and Athaya mentally cracked her knuckles. It had been a while since she'd sat down and just read, but she wanted to know if she could still read as fast.

250 pages. Two hours.

Shouldn't be a problem.

By the time Ian came to collect her, Athaya had finished the first book and had started on the next. The first one had been interesting, an old crime novel, and she had just begun a compendium of Norse mythology – one of the larger books – when Ian entered the room.

Earlier, Athaya had found a thick woollen blanket in a box next to the desk and had pulled it over, wrapping the dark blue fabric around her tightly until she was snug. The fire had flickered warmly for most of the time she was there, but by the time Ian got there it was dwindling.

'Miss Athaya? Dinner is ready in the dining hall,' Ian announced his presence from behind her suddenly, and she jumped, almost dropping her book.

'Oh! Ian, it's just you,' she let out a small puff of relief. 'Dinner's on? Great. I'm starving,' she said, and realised that it was true.

'Indeed it is ready, Miss. Would you allow me to help you?' Ian offered, but Athaya shook her head.

'If I'm going to be wheeling around for a few weeks, I need to get used to doing it myself. You can't babysit me all the time, and I…Honestly? I don't like depending on people too much.' You just end up hurt and worse off than you started.

'Quite understandable, Miss,' Ian nodded and his gaze fell on the black book lying on the table. For a moment, his gaze went blank, and then he seemed to remember himself and the company he was in. 'If you'll follow me?' he asked, and led the way back out of the library. Athaya resolved to ask him about the book later on.

Ian led her down the hall, to what Athaya thought was another room, but then she saw the buttons next to it. It was an elevator, she realised, and one that led back downstairs to what Athaya assumed was the front foyer, a place they'd omitted as Crowley brought Athaya upstairs himself. With a slight ping of annoyance, Athaya realised that she'd probably see Crowley sooner or later, and resolved to confront him about her feelings. Again. This time, hopefully with a better outcome.

The entrance room was amazing. The walls were a beautiful dark wood, and there were paintings scattering them, dotted here and there. Lamps also lined the walls, providing a soft, yellow light and illuminating the room in a way that perhaps Athaya would have found creepy, if she wasn't so in love with the castle. Tiled flooring led to a stairway to the left of the room, to another area of the building and Athaya saw steps leading up, turning left sharply, evidently leading back upstairs.

After taking in the sight, Ian led her further down a hall to the right and turned a corner. Or two. Or three. Athaya wasn't sure. The castle was certainly larger than it appeared from the outside.

Once they finally arrived at the dining hall, Ian led Athaya through the doors and along the length of the large room. All the rooms appeared to be large. He showed her to a seat at the end of a long table, and she gratefully slipped from the wheelchair into the plush seat, once again taking in her surroundings. This room had wooden floors, and friezes taking up the entire walls, depicting a heavenly host, with angels, trumpets, and fanfare among other things. Athaya couldn't help but smile at the irony.

Apparently the irony wasn't lost on Crowley either, who had appeared, seated, just as quietly as Ian had left – again – and must have seen her smile from the opposite end of the table.

'Funny, isn't it?' he asked, and Athaya almost thought she heard some of his old humour. However, when she looked at his face directly, her smile faded.

His expression was grim, almost loathsome, and Athaya felt the beginnings of anger bubble up inside her. How dare he look at her like that after she'd simply told him the truth?

Perhaps he didn't want to hear the truth, Athaya wondered.

'The irony wasn't lost on me, no,' Athaya said quietly. Quietly?

Grow a pair, Athaya! she scolded herself and took on a harsher tone. 'But then again, it doesn't really matter what I think, now, does it?'

Crowley was looking over a document of some kind, leafing through page after page of paper, raising an eyebrow occasionally, or frowning slightly. He didn't look up at Athaya's insinuating comment, although he must have noticed. Instead, after a few moments of awkward silence, a man dressed in a suit similar to Ian's walked out, carrying a large plate, covered in a silver platter cover. He walked over to Athaya and placed it in front of her. He pulled the cover off gracefully and gave a small bow. Despite the tension in the room, Athaya nearly laughed at such antics. It seemed ridiculous.

'Thank you,' she said, stifling a grin, and the man nodded.

'A pleasure.' This man's accent was definitely Scottish, and he was about thirty years Ian's junior. Judging from his attire, Athaya assumed he was a waiter of some kind, and she nearly rolled her eyes. The man walked away, and after another minute of silence, Athaya broke it.

'You're not eating?' she asked, fumbling for something, anything to break the awkward silence that held so much tension.

Crowley finally looked up at her and smiled. 'Demon, sweetheart, remember? Don't need to.' While the term "sweetheart" might usually be seen as an endearment, Athaya couldn't miss the underlying condescension behind the small, simple word.

'Right,' she said hollowly. 'Yeah.' Athaya finally looked down at what she was eating. She hadn't even been paying attention, and realised that she'd just forked a mouthful of roast chicken into her mouth. It tasted delicious, but somehow, the flavour was lost on her. She suddenly no longer felt like eating.

'What're you…' she began, but then grew quiet at the glance of irritation that Crowley sent her. Don't let him bully you. 'What're you reading?' she asked boldly, and he slid his gaze upwards. 'Our contract,' he said after a moment, and Athaya felt her insides go cold. Why? Was he trying to look for a loophole? Was he going to get rid of her? Why would he be looking at it after all these years if not for something like that?

The silence that followed those two little words seemed to stretch forever. 'Uh…' Athaya gulped, dryly swallowing her mouthful. 'W-why?' she stuttered slightly.

Crowley put the document down and rose an eyebrow. 'I'm looking for loopholes,' he said, and Athaya nearly choked. 'Loopholes concerning your broken leg,' he continued and must have seen Athaya visibly relax, because he smiled. 'Anxious, love?' he inquired and she glared at him.

'No,' she said vehemently, and bristled. 'What about my leg?'

'Healing it, of course,' he said. Athaya watched with a cold distrust as Crowley stood up and walked over to her, bending down so that he could say quietly in her ear: 'Why? Were you worried about my good intentions?' he inquired darkly, and Athaya shivered. He was standing entirely too close for her liking. Just because he hated her at the moment didn't make him any less attractive, and Athaya found herself painfully aware of how close he was, and the effect that his voice had on her, even when laced with a threat.

Athaya blinked rapidly in an effort to clear her head, tilting her face until she could look into his eyes. That was a mistake. Because, boy those eyes…They were dark – very dark, and Athaya found herself almost yelping in surprise as she realised there was lust behind them. She suddenly felt like a deer trapped in a lion's den, as he gazed right at her, and Athaya felt a stupid little spark of longing rear its head before she quickly quelled it. Crowley was taking pleasure in her obvious discomfort, and chuckled darkly, humourlessly.

And just like that, it was gone.

'I'm sure you'll be happy to know that there is a loophole. I am at liberty to heal your broken leg, as I promised that I would stop you from dying,' he announced.

'What does that have to do with my leg?' Athaya asked, ignoring the previous electric-charged tension of the room and accepting his change of subject gratefully.

'Well, since it's specified that I need stop you from dying until Azazel comes for you, if you were – somehow – to find yourself in a spot of trouble, with no one else there…it's safe to say that being hindered by a broken leg would greatly reduce your chances of survival, yes?' he said and Athaya nodded, understanding his reasoning.

Even with his current dislike, he was still a genius when it came to manipulation. As Athaya thought this, he brought a hand to her leg, placing it just under her knee, where she'd broken the bone. Athaya felt a warm, radiating feeling spread out, as if liquid sunlight were being poured through her, and while she'd expected it to hurt, she was pleasantly surprised that it did not.

Never taking his eyes from her face, Crowley withdrew his hand, and once again Athaya felt a strange loss at his absent touch. He rose an eyebrow rakishly and Athaya felt blood rise to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and flexed her foot, hoping to draw attention away from her flushed face. 'Oh, er, thank you,' she murmured. 'It feels much better. My stomach too…' Athaya realised the wound in her stomach had also healed.

'I should hope so. I've bloody healed it,' Crowley smirked and then seemed to remember himself. 'Anyway,' his slightly improved humour seemed to vanish. 'You should be fine now. Do take the time to explore the place. It's quite lovely, I've found,' he said, becoming disconnected and polite. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do,' he said abruptly, and before she could say anything, he disappeared, leaving Athaya to eat dinner by herself, although she'd realised by now that she had absolutely no appetite left at all.

AN: How's it going, wonderful readers?

Hope you enjoyed this chapter (yay Crowley and Athaya interaction…Crathaya :P ) I had fun writing it – it feels like it's been ages since they've talked (which is true), so I hoped you liked it as much as I did. And I don't know about you guys but…

SEASON FINALE MUCH?

****MILD SPOILERS ALERT****

Oh. My. Frikken. God.

I totally called that shit about 20 seconds before it happened! DUDE. The FEEEEELS.

But awesome Crowley/Dean interaction lol. SOOOOOO looking forward to next season. I hadn't been enjoying this season as much, but then in literally the last second, BOOM, instant obsession reignited. Also instant tears. So good. And yet so bad…THE MIXED FEELINGS. I CAN'T HANDLE THEM.

Anyways, let me know what you thought of the chapter, (and of the finale – I'd love to fangirl at/with you teehee) and have a lovely day/night/morning/evening/life/whatever it is that you're having :)

Xxx

~Fen~