We stand in front of a large but simple door. Four Hellhounds and two demons stand guard. Every inch of the metal door, and every surface for twenty feet around it, including the guards, is covered in sigils. Crowley sighs. He wasn't taking chances when he made this prison.
This was where his mother was, and she apparently wasn't dead. Of course, I should have realized he couldn't have killed her, she was already dead.
He frowns, he was in yet another new body, this one far more freshly dead than his mother. He was wearing a suit again, but it didn't fit with this body's bright neon red hair or her three ear piercings. I thought the young woman was pretty, Crowley thought it was tacky, but it was the meat suit he could get his hands on the quickest. He sighs and fondles the skeleton key in his pocket. He had fortunately stashed it, and most of his other belongings, in a hole in the ground, some five miles south of his above ground office.
He didn't take risks he could avoid. Not unless they were interesting. Not unless the reward was too great not to. Not unless the risk hurt someone else and not him. There were a lot of unlesses, but still...Crowley didn't take needless often, not anymore.
For instance, the artist had her soul back for now. She wasn't free though, she was tied up in his room in Hell, being guarded by Growley. Just in case he died. Also, what he was doing right now...was a last resort. He had even come to me first for help for traitors or problems before even contemplating this.
Before going in there he had also considered using other means to control her. The witchfinder however had been lost, probably melted by Rowena when she was Queen, and that made things even more...precarious in his mind.
He looks at the door and with a determined exhale unlocks it. He pauses and looks at the guards.
"If I'm not out, in half an hour, activate the binding rune." The demons look disturbed.
"Sir, you'll be inside…" Crowley looks at the guard, who shifts in place.
"Are you questioning my orders? Do you think I'm stupid enough, to not know what happens!"
"No sir."
"Didn't think so. If she comes out without me, the Hellhounds get a new toy. Understand?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Now, what is my first rule regarding Rowena?" The guards all straighten and speak at the same time.
"Believe nothing she says." Crowley nods.
"And the second?"
"Do not let her cast magic."
"Third?"
"Do not let her out of your sight."
Satisfied Crowley straightens the suit and walks in. The doors close behind us, but aren't visible. There is no door to open, just air. Crowley pockets the key and walks towards a rather large house. It is old, very old. It sits atop a rolling hill, sheep grazing in a pasture look up and bound away as we pass. The air has a crisp quality to it, a scent of hay wafting in with each breeze. The sky is covered in a blanket of clouds, the type that don't do anything besides block out the sun. We walk past a graveyard and Crowley pauses and turns to look at a specific grave that stands out. It is newer than the rest, and has been put atop a plot that has recently been tended to. Crowley frowns and with a snap the gravestone reading Fergus MacLeoud crumbles to dust against another headstone.
We reach the house minutes later, a long driveway, and enter through the front door without knocking. Immediately to the left is a sitting room, with a tea set at the ready, and a red haired woman pouring tea.
"So Fergus finally sent someone tah visit me." Crowley is silent, waiting to find out more about his mother's current state of mind. This didn't look like torture to me at all. She looked completely content. Of course, Crowley could have lied to me, well bent the truth. He didn't really lie, it was too easy.
We watch the witch pour a second cup of tea. She is tall and lithe, a slightly rounder face than I would have imagined, but the red hair is exactly the same as the show.
"It's been years since I had company. It's been dreadful boring." Her accent is heavy, heavier than in the show, but she still sounds refined.
"Even with the house of the lord you loved? Even with the books? The sheep?" Crowley speaks in his current vessel's voice, and not the one I've come to know. Extending the lie for as long as he could.
"Nothing like human interaction darlin'. Sheep are poor substitutes." She hands Crowley the cup of tea, and Crowley takes it, but obviously doesn't drink a sip. Too dangerous. She does sip her own however. "So how is Fergus, still the King of Hell is he?"
"Fergus is dead." At this Rowena pauses for a second, her cup halfway to her mouth. She acts nonplussed, but the cup shakes just a bit.
"So he finally bit the bouket, saerves him right for killin' me." Ah, so he did end up Killing Rowena himself.
"You took his throne." At these words, the floodgates break.
"He was gone! I tried tah get him back! But no! He daedn't wake oop for me at all, but that stupid hainter of his comes calling tah rekindle their love affair and oof he goes! And where does he go? Tae mae? Naw, he's oof for a dauner tae the highlands, the lowlands, all paoints bit tae the one that caeres faer him! I haed fianelly waerked through my ain probblems, was waerkin' oen thaem aet least! He daerent even baether to coeme aboot tah Hell! Not until the bloody Winchesters come afore him to skelp aboot his ain ma so he could pick oop the bloody pieces!" The longer she talked, the more flustered she got, the more she dipped into the Scottish accent. I didn't understand her at all near the end of her tirade.
"-so I bide haer in this hoose, scunnered oot of my ain mind, bidin' for my ain soon tae come pay his ma the time of day! And noo I hear he is died? What's tae happen tae his Bonnie ma?" Crowley sets the tea down and looks at her in silence. She sighs, takes a deep breath, and calms herself. "At least tell me how he died afore ye cast me into the pits."
"I burned his bones myself...mother." The last word is said in what I would consider his normal voice, but is probably nowhere near how he sounded when he was alive. He no doubt had hundreds of accents under his belt, absorbed from his meatsuits, learned, taken out depending on what the situation needed.
Rowena stares, then stands.
"Fergus? Noo jist haid on!" Crowley sighs and interrupts.
"I burned Fergus's bones mother, he is gone. My name… is Crowley."
"Nay! You be hare lyin, manipulatin. Dinnae teach your granny tae suck eggs young bairn o mine, if that you be! Fergus would nay leave his favorite meatsuit withaot raison! You nay be my soon, not even a wee bit!" Rowena is backing away slowly, toward a table with what appears to be decanters of liquor, but I doubted that's all they were. Crowley faces his mother, and does something I have never seen before.
"Exactly! Ma! Keep the heid! Ah came here to ask for your help. It could be the baw's on the slates for us booth if we don't-"
"Baith! You leave ma haur tae rot, an en boond in askin' fur mah help! Ye hink-"
"Ye hink this Bonnie hoose was easy tae-"
"I'll give you a skelpit lug afore Ah help ye Fergus!"
"Ye ken whit will happen if Ah lose mah thrain. Yoo'll be reit doon in the pits!"
"It main be better than havin tae bide fur mah son tae come apologize for-"
"Ye buggered off with mah thrain!"
"Ah was Keepin it warm for when I got ye back Fergus!"
"It's CROWLEY!" The entire house shakes. Crowley points to the decanter Rowena is reaching for and every single one explodes. Rowena jumps, startled, and freezes as Crowley slowly stands up. She looks at him with a myriad of feelings; confusion, anger, hate, ...hope. After all, only family could fight like that.
"...Fergus?" Crowley sighs at the question
"Yes mother. It's me. And I do in fact need your help. So... sit down, and Listen."
"If-if ye say so Fergus." Crowley fumes as his mother takes a seat.
"Fergus, is dead. I burned his bones today."
"I Dinnae understand Fer-son." She pauses at the glare. "If ye burned yer bones...how are ye here? Shouldn't ye be in the Empty right aboot now?" At this Crowley smiles and sits.
"Mother, in the past few decades I've done things you can't imagine."
"Like...what?"
"I'll tell you...someday. Right now every person who knows the details of what I've done is a danger to me." At this Rowena smiles slightly and picks up her tea again.
"Let me guess, someone knows. Heaven slap it intae ye son, for not visiting your mother sooner." She pouts, and obvious fake pout. "Ye killed me, stuck me down here, and then dinnae visit for decades!"
"Mother. You tried to Have Me Killed!"
"I could say the same for ye! You actually succeeded! And after I was tryin' tae bring you back! But I'm willing tah say water under the bridge...for a few things." Crowley sighs.
"What do you want Mother?"
"I want the contract on Sam's soul back, it was mine after all." Crowley shakes his head.
"Mother. Do you really think I'd keep that? Why do you think the Winchester's attacked you? We made a deal. Sam's contract, for your death. Sounds familiar doesn't it?"
"Wait, ye dinnae actually follow through Fergus?"
"Mother, I have one rule. I've broken that rule twice in my many years as a demon. Make a deal, keep it. Besides, I wanted those two blundering heroes as Far Away From Hell As Physically Possible!" Rowena stares. "Did you really think that Sam or Dean would behave while one of them was in Hell, or even if both were? You saw how Dean was as a demon; great wingman, horrible understudy. They are gone. Forever."
Rowena sighs.
"I suppose you're right Fergus, it was foolish of me to expect to control either of them. So-"
"What else Mother, time is of the essence here."
"I want out of here!"
"No."
"I suppose it was a stretch, but-"
"Yes, can't blame you for trying. Can we move it along!" Rowena pauses, fake ponders her desires for a second and then,
"Visitors."
"No."
"What? Ah cannae have a cuppa tea once in a moon with what used to be my subjects!?"
"No. Mother. As much as I hate to admit it, the apple didn't fall very far from the rotten tree. I know what moves I would make, had I lost, so I have an inkling as to what you would do. So… since I trust neither you nor the demons to have any interaction that will not end horribly for me...I will visit you, monthly."
"Weekly."
"Two weeks."
"You have a deal Fergus." Crowley twitches.
"It's Crowley."
"Fergus, you will always be Fergus tah me. I bore you from my womb, I named ye. Ah'll call ye what Ah named ye." Crowley sighs.
"In here, where it's more private." Both Crowley and I see a sparkle in Rowena's eyes. Don has been pushed down to the wayside for now. He was still chattering about deals. I was still struck by hearing Crowley's original voice. I was flabbergasted, and a bit queasy. It did not sound like the Crowley I knew. Rowena speaks, her mind having grasped the obvious.
"That implies we won't be here at some point." Says Rowena.
"You are correct. I need you to find three demons for me. Immediately."
"So, in exchange for bi-monthly visits from mah own kin, I cast a locatin' spell for ye? It dinnae seem quite fair."
"Mother. You also get to keep the house. And not be in the pits."
"Is a change of scenery too much to ask for?"
"Yes."
"No Fergus! It is not!" Crowley sighs.
"Fine. I'll add to our deal that every third time we meet, I shall take you for a walk, on a leash, of iron, to a place we both agree upon. Like say, the Bermuda Triangle."
"That sounds lovely dear, except for the chains. I'm not your pup."
"No. You're a bitch who will not only bite the hand that feeds it, but shit on the bed as well. So. Chains. Now if we are in agreement?" Rowena stares for a moment then nods slightly.
"Very well Fergus." Crowley relaxes the slightest bit and takes out his phone. He opens the video showing the demons stealing his body and shows his mother.
"Are those your bones darling?"
"Yes, focus. Can you locate the demons?"
"Not without visiting that place first. I need at least something of theirs to work with."
"They left nothing."
"There is always somethin'."
"My forensics team-"
"Dinnae have magic darlin'." Crowley sighs. He takes out his phone and dials a number.
"Bring the iron cuffs, the chain, and the constructed vessel. The Witch is coming out with me. Also get Croney, the door will need to be moved."
"Croney? that lovely old Demon witch in the pits?"
"Yes mother, and she hated you very much. She, was the one who actually assisted me in getting hold of Sam's contract. She hates any witch born after 100 AD. Now. Shall we?" Rowena looks a bit angry for a second, but then nods and follows Crowley down out of the house past the graveyard. As we walk past it she pauses.
"I see you still have a bit of an anger issue regardin' the time your bones were first found?"
"No, I have a problem with you putting up a grave for someone I just killed when I haven't even had a decent funeral for them yet."
"Yer not dead yet darling."
"Fergus is dead. And not a word about the bones to anyone or I will cast you in the pits and enjoy a month there with you myself."
"Promises and threats don't mean anything if ye don't intend to actually follow through Fergus."
"Mother, you have No idea what I intend."
We reach the empty space where the door was Crowley holds up a hand and knocks on thin air. A line appears in space and the door opens revealing a demon who is holding a body that looks similar to Rowena. As soon as Rowena steps out of the prison her body melts into a grey orb with a slight trail of smoke. She tries to rush to the left and to the right in the hallway, flee; but each time she meets an invisible wall as the runes and sigils carved into the stone light up.
"Sorry mother. I posted a no smoking sign just for you. So, if you would be so kind?"
The orb floats and exudes smoke for a moment, while Hellhounds growl, and the guards look upon it with indifference. Soon it swirls around and enters the vessel Crowley has provided that is already wearing a set of chains and cuffs.
As soon as the soul is fully in the body it shifts. Rowena stretches and looks sideways at Crowley.
You would've done the same dear."
"Yes, I would have. And to that fact." He snaps and Rowena screams clutching her stomach. I cringe at the sound, because under it the sound and smell of bubbling burning flesh becomes apparent. Crowley stands unmoved as his mother glares at him from the corner of her eye, still clutching her stomach. "You can't leave that meatsuit even if you wanted to mother. So, no fleeing away to the ends of the earth. And don't bother trying to mar that glyph, it's on your stomach lining too." Crowley looks back-and-forth to the guards on either side. "You have your instructions. See to it that it's done before I return." The guards nod and Crowley looks at Rowena and with a snap we are gone.
(I find in interesting that people can make chapters in uniform length. For me, the chapter ends where the chapter ends fittingly. A scene change, cliffhanger, a finished thought. I'm writing this with an outline, but everything in between is flow of thought. The POV character is written with the first thing that comes to mind, and if that action fucks up a situation, it does so. The only time I go back to change it, is if I realize another character wasn't acting like they should, and that would change how the POV character acts. Sooo, I know where it's going, ultimately. I have no clue exactly how long it will take, how we'll get there, or everything that might happen in between. Haaaave fun!)
