Crowley leaves the wards and sigils up; he cleans the area thoroughly otherwise. Even burning sage to cleanse any energy that might be used to divine the events that happened here. He cleans up everything nicely and looks once more at the scene of his latest triumph. He hadn't really observed it the first time after all. He looked for strategic points, where he should put sigils, ambush spots, anything that could be an advantage or disadvantage. So, no he didn't really look at it.
The warehouse is old and the glass windows are made of that glass that you can see the imperfections in. He walks in, doing one more check. The many bloodstains are gone, licked up by his Hellhounds; same with the bodies. Crowley hated digging graves, calling his pets to just eat the evidence was far easier.
The table that we had viewed the traitors holding their little meeting at is gone, it had been broken into little bits when a demon was thrown into it. Crowley leaves through the back, the wards there not even tingling now.
Six. Six full souls. Three x demons. Two humans under contract...and me
"And a devil makes seven." I snort, well, I think about it. Crowley looks about once more and then leaves, the only evidence that something was odd...the now utter lack of evidence.
We return to his office. The wood floors, wooden desk, posh chairs...the remaining ingredients from a recent scry and a devil's trap on the ground… and Rowena.
Crowley drops the suitcase and sighs.
"I said I expected a standing ovation mother, I really thought that performance warranted at least a little recognition from you." He ignores her silence as he walks over to the bottle of whiskey and pours a glass. He is very satisfied, I can't help but be too. Those demons were dicks.
Rowena always had a comment, good or bad, about him. That she was silent at the moment, very telling. He puts the cap on the decanter and turns to regard her. She stands in the corner, the sigil from before finished and ready to activate. Crowley sighs.
"Mother. I would rather lick Lucifer's boots than endure a year with your soul constantly nagging me... if there wasn't a good reason. There are only two, maybe three, things that would make me even consider enduring your voice in my head." He sips the drink and then sets it down, spinning the glass with one finger on the table, waiting for the questions, for her to walk where he led her. She was one of the few beings he considered nearly as smart as him. Crowley had a lot of hubris; almost no one was as clever, dangerous, or well put together, as him.
The problem was that in regards to the first two...he was usually right. Lucifer was gone. The archangels were gone or didn't care. God and whatever other cosmic beings were real or not...gone. Whatever the ruler of the empty actually called himself...he just wanted to sleep. If there were people who were as smart as Crowley, and there surely were, they weren't in his game and therefore didn't matter. So Crowley looks at his mother, waiting, watching; spinning his glass of whiskey on the table.
Rowena smiles, a tight smile. A smile covering obvious fear. She cared for her son, she was proud of him, she thought he was a slimy conniving evil little thing...just like she used to be, and sometimes still was. She never for one moment thought he could be a real threat to her on his own. With subjects, an army, the crown...but on his own? No. Crowley just smiles at my inner thoughts, ones he can hear, ones the artist could hear. Don was stuffed wherever the x demon souls were, enduring the torrent of terrifying memories they exuded. Crowley told me that's what he was going to do, asked me if I thought that was fitting. I couldn't say it was bad, as ideas for torture go. And putting the demons next to Don, with his constant attempts at bargaining, probably torture for them too.
The silence is heavy. I was noticing the more powerful Crowley got the more often these silences seemed to happen. I hated them. They came with the weight of hundreds of scared eyes, and the fact that that was starting to amuse me...was terrifying. Crowley wouldn't let me twist into red smoke or turn into a demon, but I couldn't deny I was becoming...inoculated...no. More appreciative of how nearly everything he did was a move calculated to elicit the reaction he wanted. He was right. The best crossroads demons were actors.
The silence is broken suddenly and startlingly.
"What...what are the three things dearest, that ye'd destroy me for?" Crowley looks at her and shakes his head. He picks up his drink and returns to his seat. With a wave the desk is cleared and he spins in the chair to face Rowena.
"I already told you one, do you not listen? You just watched me for over 17 hours punishing demons for that very reason." Rowena swallows and steps forward slowly.
"Fergus. I would never betray ye-"
"Mother. Don't try to sell lies to the king of loopholes. It's sad." Rowena freezes and stands up straight. Crowley was right. She may not want to kill him, but betray him? The instant she thought she had a chance of escaping. At least, that's what Crowley is thinking.
"Then… then what are the other reasons?" She asks. Crowley slowly takes another sip, smiles, and says words that cause my soul to freeze.
"I suppose if my Chew Toy said I should..."
What? No. No no fuck no. This was a ploy. A joke. What? No. Crowley, I'm not a fan at a convention to be bullied or goaded, anymore, I Know the amount of control I have here and that is ZERO. The bluff is so bad it-
"Darling, Chew Toy. You give yourself too little credit. I'm only here today because of you." I cringe. I hated when he pointed that out, because I still didn't know how to feel. Guilty, sure of course. Stupid. Definitely.
….but this pride? No. That shouldn't be there. ...but it was… sometimes. For fleeting moments.
Rowena stands still, confused.
"Chew Toy? Is that one of… yer meals?" Crowley scoffs.
"No. They get very little say, except I'll occasionally get a craving for a particular sin or sensation from one of them." Crowley drains the glass and sets it down. "Had a wonderful experience with bacon and two stippers last week. But I digress...No mother. Chew Toy is not a 'meal' as you so indelicately put it. You met her earlier, she was the-"
"First contract. And what makes her so special that ye'd kill yer own kin for her?" Crowley scoffs again.
"Under her advisement, possibly, but For her? Nothing makes anyone that special, except she loves me." Oh shut up, still not a doddering fan at convention. "Not anymore." Once! One convention! I doubt you even remembered- "Of course I do. You were an idiot, in a suit, who reeked of desperation. I'd have tried to make a contract at the time if I hadn't been busy, but… you stumbled into my lap anyway and now you are mine." Like your 'wife' stumbled into your lap? "No, she was actually a lovely person, you're just a Chew Toy." I sigh, either way I doubted I had that power. Really really really really fucking doubted. "Darling, you're an artist, you always give yourself too little credit." That was usually true, but here… no. No I was right on fucking track. Rowena stares at this half conversation she can see.
"And… ye'd listen to her over someone with 500 years of experience."
"Mother, she actually has my best interest at heart. She has to. Not only is it in her contract that she has to advise me to the best of her ability; meaning that if she advises me with ill intent it violates her contract…" I-I had not thought of it that way. Of course I had never thought of giving him advice that could backfire, not intentionally anyway. It wasn't like he wouldn't know, but that was logic. I had a feeling that was part of the contract, compelling me to...well do a good job. It didn't feel far off from my own need to provide successful ideas… I had felt that pull before, but I had never thought it might be preventing me from using my role to hurt Crowley.
That phrase. To the best of my ability, I thought that was something in my favor. Something that meant that if my idea wasn't perfect I had still tried, but of course not. Of course it had a double meaning. Crowley continues as if I had not just had an internal revelation.
"-but if I die...she gets lain into by not only every demon who wants to know how I did this, but every angel, witch, and half baked human hunter with an ego." I cringe. Again. I Had thought about that. I really had fucked up in so many fucked up ways. The conversation continues despite my dismay however.
"And that makes her more worthy to advise ye than me?!"
"That...and she actually has original ideas."
"I have ideas! I-"
"Mother. You have been a broken record for hundreds of years. Step one. Suck up. Step two. Steal or take over. Step three…. Well you never really got to enjoy step three long enough to flesh it out, did you?" Rowena stands still and looks at her son, sad and scared. I have no clue how much of the show was accurate after Crowley left...but if the journal was Sam's...
"Fergus. I changed. I missed ye, I"
"And yet… you were the one who got a contract on Sam's soul." Crowley picks up the glass again and turns it, the light from the afternoon sun sending small rainbows from the crystal to play on the desk.
"Because he started huntin' demons again! For their blood!" Crowley sighs.
"No mother. He didn't. You wanted the contract because You couldn't stand the thought of losing, another...son. Even if it was to heaven." Crowley puts the glass down and raises a brow. "I know how easily I was replaced." Rowena looks back and forth, panicked. Apparently she had really changed, on some level. She still, however, wanted out of the prison. Anyone would with that amount of solitude; and of course, there was the threat of a type of demise no one would wish to contemplate for long.
Rowena backs into the corner once again. The armoire to her right creaking as she bumps into it.
"It wasn't easy! It...it was a bandaid darlin'!"
"Until, it wasn't, mother." Crowley sighs and stands, walking toward Rowena.
"I care for ye Fergus!"
"I'd say too little too late, but I Did, kind of, you know, with a little effort, build an Entire Palace For You!"
"A palace prison is still a prison Fergus!" Crowley raises a brow.
"Yes, to protect us both. There are demons who would use me to get you to do magic for them. Angels who would kill to have a former queen and access to her secrets. Damned souls who would use you to get to me. Mother, you are a liability, and you will remain one...until I am secure in my future." Crowley is inches from Rowena, who while sweating and fearful, has a glimmer of hope. Perhaps her son cared, perhaps he wouldn't do that horrible thing to her.
"I-I thought ye hated yer job?" Crowley smirks.
"I did, but I was asleep in the Empty, with regrets and dreams mixed together in a symphony meant to keep me asleep and interested." Wait I thought the empty just played fear and regret over and over? "Chew toy, the Nothing is malicious and cruel but not stupid, if they want their prisoners to stay asleep and Want to stay alssep, there need to be dreams as well as nightmares. And the dreams need to be good enough to make whoever is there Want to be asleep."
"Like...like what? What did he dream of Fergus?"
"Mother. A demon is a demon, what do you think I dreamed of?" There is silence and Crowley sighs. "Horror and perfection mother. Dreams and goals I didn't even know I had failing or succeeded over and over. However, I am never one to enjoy a nightmare or dream when the goals they show me are within reach. So...you don't betray me…" He takes a step closer and there is a sudden pain in Crowley's gut. He looks down to see the blade from the ritual in Rowena's hand, slightly embedded into his side. "Mother, while this feels very nice, I am not one for an oedipus complex, so please... remove that."
"Fergus, I'm so- I forgot I was holdin' that, I-" Crowley holds up his hand and makes the closed mouth gesture and there is silence.
"What do you think Chew Toy? I'm appointing you judge and jury tonight." I hesitate. I look at the knife in her hand through his eyes. Both of us could see that it clearly was in fact an accident. She may have intended to use it at one point, but right now its pommel is against an edifice in the armoire and the blade ended just out in front of Rowena.
I'd say keep her under lock and key, make sure to tell her enough so she doesn't go insane with fear and worry...and then let her out when you're sure you won't die. You know, unless she betrays you.
Crowley smiles. "It seems you have a fan mother." There is a gesture and Rowena visibly relaxes. "So, what else do you want to know before I send you back home to your own little piece of Scotland?"
…...
"So jest a year? ...That's all it takes fer a soul to break down?"
"Break apart, but yes. It takes about ten for one to completely fade. It-" Crowley pauses and sighs, leaning back in the chair, enjoying a rainbow of emotions from his current collection. My 'roommates' have just found out their life span. No one would react well to that, no one reaction would be exactly the same, and Crowley, was getting all of them.
"Fergus. Fergus?"
"Shhhh." There is silence. The feelings of fear, sorrow, and anger mix for a moment or two before Crowley shuts them down and sits up straight again. He didn't want to be human, he didn't want to feel things like guilt or dismay in relation to His actions. Felt through someone else, that he could just Shut Down when he wanted? That was a high he Loved.
"Fergus, what was that? Are ye ok?"
"Wonderful mother. Just enjoying a feeling or two." Rowena is quick on the uptake.
"That's how ye get yer fix now is it? Directly from the soul, Fergus I don't think-"
"You never lost the Ability To Feel, Mother!"
"Is...that how ye tear them apart? Taking their feelins'?" Crowley stares at her.
"No mother. And I won't be telling you how until it doesn't matter anymore, and then I still won't tell you the details. ...unless you wish to join Chew Toy for a few decades?" Rowena shifts in her seat. This wasn't like her son. Contradicting himself. He had just said he'd rather lick his most hated enemy's boots than let her in. Now he was taunting her, playing an obvious game. In her mind, Something was wrong.
She was right ...and wrong. Crowley was perfectly fine, he was just flying high as a kite. He didn't usually have this many full souls and x demon souls giving him this many different feelings. It was a bit overwhelming, even for him. Even after he tried to shut them down. In the moment, perhaps on purpose, perhaps on accident, Crowley was letting his own dull tainted feelings through to me. Just to me, the one he was used to gently buffeting around, always being in contact with so I was available at a moment's notice. Either way, I was feeling what he was, something he didn't usually allow. His thoughts, experiences, ideas, occasionally. But feelings, unless he knew it would upset me, he kept those locked away.
It is uncomfortable, demons still feel a bit but everything is twisted. Fear he feels from his prisoners comes back to me with a huge dose of satisfaction, pain with euphoria, and anger...anger becomes a low hum of the worst possible form of lust. Because lust for demons is never just about sex. No, if it even involved sex it was always sex with something. With power. With violence. With hunger.
And right now he was very hungry for this high to never even have a chance of ending. He'd happily endure his mother for that in his current state of mind. This was bad. Crowley was becoming an addict to a stronger high. One that could be a danger. He didn't even care about my thoughts he so obviously was barely paying attention to.
Rowena could tell. She could tell something was off even through the cool facade. Crowley had not foreseen this. He had not seen this as a possibility when he had taken in six nearly fresh souls. He had thought of being burned by their energy, not being able to contain them, having to release them, maybe being in pain for a year. He had even been prepared to throw a few out into jars if they had begun to overwhelm him.
He had not prepared for complete success. He was too used to there always being a complication, a downside. Because this wasn't a downside, not for him. Not in this state anyway. He could work through a high, he had before. He was still smart enough to know a fatal mistake from a minor one. He was still aware enough to kill who he wanted, when he wanted, with ease. He could still plan. Manipulate. Coerce.
He would probably come out fine. Probably. Maybe. Probably. But a lot of others might needlessly die or worse.
That might include Rowena.
Which Rowena was definitely not okay with.
"Darlin. Are we going to need another intervention?" At this Crowley's slight smile vanishes. He licks his lips, which are dry for more than one reason, and looks at her.
"Pardon?"
"Intervention darlin? Like before, with the blood? Sam and Dean told me about it. I missed so many years of yer life...so when they could tell me-"
"They told you about that? Of course they did. They wouldn't have any Decency or respect for my Privacy!" Rowena frowns and stands.
"Darlin, I jest think… I mean how many do ye even have right now?"
"Over all, or current whole pits I've swallowed?"
"Well as yer mother I'd like to know as much as I can about my son, so I know how best to help." She says as she moves away tentatively. Slowly. Crowley rolls his eyes, still completely unbelieving of her sincerity. I didn't blame him.
"In total, well it's so hard to keep track of what I eat on a year to year basis-" that's a fucking lie, "but...32. Six of which I have right now, one of which I will not get rid of, in fact I need one more. Last one fulfilled her contract, just a bit ahead of schedule." Crowley watches as his mother processes this on her way to the armoire from earlier. She opens the top cabinet to pull out three jars.
"Fergus, ye don't really need a-"
"Yes mother. I do. You know very well about the new contracts, and for now… well I like how they make me feel. Like a giddy school girl behind the bleachers." Rowena takes the hint, that the new contract soul is non-negotiable. As she turns to come back with the jars we both see her pause, a brief moment of realization, then she continues as if it hadn't happened. So does Crowley. "So unless you want to make a contract with me, which I do believe we will both agree to when Hell freezes over and Ron Jeremy wins an Oscar, I need another contract."
"I'll make a contract with ye Fergus. Provided we go over it together." Rowena carefully sets the jars down as Crowley sits up and stares. No way. The Rowena he knew, never in a million years. She had been queen. She Knew that the contracts Never turned out well for the second party. So why would she agree? I thought I knew, but Crowley could not accept that his mother...wanted to be a mother. Had given up her hatred. No. She wanted to know what was in the contract. How it worked. I had to admit that was probably at least part of it, but I had a feeling it wasn't to use the power, but to figure out if it could hurt her son.
"No. No. What's your game here?" Crowley, I think she might have- "no. No Chew Toy. When it comes to killing, using, or manipulating my mother, I will take your advice. When it comes to trusting her..."
"Darlin. Listen to her. I'm yer mother. I jest want to help." He accent begins to slip through more as she gets desperate, emotional, or perhaps is trying to remind him of their shared life in Scotland. That was a bad idea.
"Most mothers yes, but you, no."
"Darlin, Fergus. Ye hold all the cards. Even if I learn somethin', what can I do?"
Crowley pauses. This was true. The biggest risk wasn't Rowena herself anymore, it was someone finding out something from her. Besides, if he changed his mind…
"You'd risk going into a contract with me? Risk your very existence?" At this Rowena finally smiles.
"A mother will give up anything for her child...but I Was queen mother for a brief stint. I went over my fair share of contracts."
I can feel pleasure, of many types, many inappropriate for the situation, rush through Crowley. One of the few emotions he held onto even after the blood left. For good reason.
"Well, mother, if you think you can work over a contract with the King of the Crossroads…by all means."
…..
"So all ye did was change the definition of freeheld ownership?"
"Well, in tandem with tenancy in common."
It was early early morning now. There were two teacups, three teapots, and one empty bottle of scotch on the table. Faint light from two lamps filled the room, flickering occasionally from the ambient power of three souls in jars and a very happy demon.
Crowley had finally let go of three of the souls, the emotions of distress from some of them was just too distracting. Rowena watched in fascination as he had deposited them in the jars, his smoke glittering with white and fading pink. That was two hours ago. We were on hour four with the contract.
My mind was numb.
"So what is this bit about taking a piece of the soul with you? You mean like some of their aura?"
"No mother. It means a piece. Ten percent of a soul." Rowena blinks.
"That...isn't possible."
"Not according to the contract." She leans back.
"That...that's how ye break them apart. Fergus. This is…"
"Completely uncharted territory." Rowena stares.
"And ye thought of this on yer own?"
"Mother, why do you think I still have Chew Toy after 90 some years?" Rowena blinks. An average uneducated human who didn't even know magic was real. No. I couldn't have thought of this on my own. "Chew Toy gave me many new ideas the night we met. Most of which she didn't even know were interesting. Unending contracts. Contracts that were about what happened after entering Hell... Hiding in another soul. That would mean I could only have partial ownership because they needed to hold on to it... That inevitably led me to think about what would lead me to said soul if I died, as added insurance. Which led to breaking it apart." I sigh. I was the smartest idiot in existence. Wonderful. Rowena stares. Crowley just sits and smiles.
"How...jest how Fergus?" Crowley smiles and opens a drawer. I'm in convulsions of laughter. Of course he fucking had one.
Box set. All fifteen seasons.
He holds out the box and Rowena tentatively takes it.
"It's a tad off on...many details, but it increased crossroad deals by 30 to 40 percent for over three decades...at least."
"What, what is this?"
"A TV show mother, about...well the Winchester's. Don't worry, I'll add a tv and DVD player to your prison." Rowena stares.
"How? I understand why Fergus, but-"
"After some heavy editing, Sam's journals Somehow found their way to a... certain person in Hollywood. I found my way there eventually too. Wonderful time. Until an actual angel stepped in. Bloody programs in meat suits."
"I thought you liked Castiel darlin? It was Castiel right?"
"It was, and I did. Until he bloody Killed Me! Again! I was very much minding my own business at the time too."
"Really? Were ye Fergus?"
"Yes! The demon tablet and the angel tablet should be broken into tiny pieces and scattered to the ends of the earth!"
"Where only ye know the location of each of the parts, I assume?"
"That is completely beside the point!" It was so exactly the point. "If the angel had stopped to Ask I might have considered breaking it up and us each taking pieces. No! He assumed that I had the angel tablet to close the gates of Heaven, or some such rubbish. Ugh. The workload of taking in every, single, soul? Besides the expense of the Copious amounts of scotch I'd need to deal with that headache, it completely ruins my current plan." It kinda did. "The program with wings assumed that with the hardy boys gone I'd try to take over everything. That, is a few Thousand years in the future, if I even wanted to consider it. Which I don't." Crowley takes a large breath of air, his tirade done-ish. "Being in charge of angels? Please." His mother stares. A lot had changed. A lot hadn't.
"So, did ye get the tablets?" Crowley's face twists in anger.
"The demon one at least, and a corner of the angel. Scattered. Broken. Some in constant motion, until of course they found them again." Like the one he fed to Growley. Poor thing had hideous farts. As in worse than before. "I was breaking up the angel tablet and hiding the last piece of the demon one when Castiel approached, both of them. I didn't realize until they were close, bugger the both of them."
C'mon. Misha didn't really have control, and he did force Cas out...and sign the NDA eventually. The one that actually was Just an NDA...I think. Crowley rolls his eyes. "We had a Lovely chase though, since I couldn't very well teleport in the middle of the day, in public, with a billion cameras. So, we walked through the streets, he'd lose me. I'd have a cup of tea. He'd find me. We'd walk a couple blocks. I'd try to find a bathroom, an alley, he'd find me just in time, the tease. We exchanged wonderful insults, a few very specific threats, I even spent a block or two trying to explain. Eventually I got to a back alley to snap away...and the bastard cheated."
"Cheated?"
"We were on a date, I never agreed to an orgy! I wouldn't have said no, but I wasn't really prepared for that type of evening. Left my favorite thumbscrews at home and all. So it was just us. Seeing the sights. Talking. Even planned on painting the town red with him. I brought my paint brush!" Crowley waves his angel blade into existence for a moment before sighing. I was quiet. Listening carefully. This was not a story he had cared to share before. Rowena pipes up and breaks the pause to ask the right question.
"He had an ally?" Crowley scowls at the question.
"A bloody ally? He had four! But not there, no. In my bloody penthouse! Teleported to my room, right into a devil's trap that put a huge charge on my account! That name and credit card, were blacklisted! Oh yes, and They Killed me and Ruined my suits, of the fabric And meat variety!" He takes a breath and clenches his teeth a moment. "Luckily I dumped the last piece of the demon tablet during the chase."
"Where?"
"Mother, I'm on a rant, not a runaway car with no breaks. Besides this was years ago. They found them and used the demon tablet to partial success before I fixed the problem." Crowley sighs and shakes his head. "Bloody doll faces pigeons." Rowena is silent.
"What plan Fergus?" Crowley sighs, again. Of course she'd latch onto that one phrase from about a minute ago now. He takes a sip of whiskey and sits up.
"Back to the contract mother."
"Fergus, what plan?"
"We aren't going to get back to the contract without covering this first are we? Even though it has Literally Nothing to do with the contract!" Rowena sits silently and patiently. Crowley looks at the ceiling for a second then exhales slowly. "Mother. When you were running things down there, what did you think of the demons?" Rowena pauses, concerned at the seemingly random question. She, however, knew her son wasn't one to ask things randomly, he didn't do anything randomly unless strategy required it...and I guess then it would be...planned randomness? Anyway, she decided to play.
"They were, backstabby, but many wanted to please. Rise higher in the ranks."
"And?" Rowena stares at Crowley, knowing there is a correct answer but not quite able to figure out what it is.
"I don't know what to say Fergus. They're demons, they pretty much all just did what demons do."
"Exactly! Boring. Unoriginal. All the same vices. All wanting to rise to the top. All thinking they can do better."
"So? Ye also think ye can be better."
"Yes, but I actually can. Now, I don't want Hell filled with demons that are constantly trying to plot, and plan, and outmaneuver me. Or demons who are so mind numbingly dull that they can't figure out how to creatively guide a situation, let alone hold a conversation!"
"That, kind of describes most demons darlin."
"Again, exactly. So, what to do? Well, first off, vet new demons." Rowena blinks.
"You mean, deny contracts to people you don't think would make good demons?"
"I'd be hanged, flayed alive, salted, fed to Hellhounds, and then put up as a living piñata in the break room if I suggested that mother. No. They go to the line, or to the library."
"Library?"
"Just keeping my employees happy. Which is the second part, making sure new demons like their job. That, is the basics of the plan." Rowena looks at her son confusedly.
"But why?" Crowley sighs. His mother was smarter than this. Perhaps she just wanted him to talk, missed the sound of his voice, or the missed chances to actually talk to him. Crowley, I can tell, thinks that idea is absolutely the stupidest one I've ever had. However he doesn't have another explanation that makes sense.
"Mother. If they are happy where they are, and know I put them there, will they revolt? No. They work harder because their job... is their vice."
"So...those are the supposed loyalists?"
"Now you're getting it. So, now that I won't get those three minutes of my life back, may we continue with the contract?"
….
"Ye know ye shouldn't hide soul sparks in warded boxes, ye should use phylacteries." We are going over the agreed upon uses of whatever percent Crowley will take from Rowena's soul. Both Crowley and I pause at this comment. Crowley because he recognized the word but can't place it, and I because I am thinking of the ramifications.
"Pardon?" Phylactery, a soul receptacle for liches, undead wizards. They are hard to destroy and in some instances can actually collect souls themselves if tampered with. Crowley looks at his mother. "Chew Toy says they are soul receptacles...hard to destroy, collect souls themselves? Is that right?" Rowena stares at Crowley, well tries to stare at me, but I'm not really visible.
"She told ye all this did she? Was she a witch?" I laugh, Crowley smiles. He had realized why he recognized the word.
Two months. Two months stuck pretending to be me. That meant two D&D sessions. Two sessions where we just happened to be going up against a lich.
Scary thing was, he was apparently good at it. I expected him to be great at the acting, even the strategy, but being able to accept the rolls the dice gave him? Of course when you can control the movement of dice by will...
"That, would have been boring, now wouldn't it?" I chuckle. That was true. If you can control the outcome it can be satisfying, but it does get boring.
"What are ye going on about?"
"I had an interesting two months where I pretended to be Chew Toy for...various reasons. She had, interesting hobbies…" Crowley taps his pen and ponders something I had pondered on occasion. How many real demons and witches and monsters used their knowledge to create engaging entertainment. "I do believe at least two witches work in the game industry. Either that or one of you lost a journal a very long time ago." Rowena blinks.
"Well, I'm sure I'll know what that means eventually. Now, we need to go over subsection 12 in paragraph 2. Now I know this is a completely new contract, jest for me, and while I'm appreciative, I don't think it is quite fair to-"
"Mother. Demon. You may have retained most of your pretty white luster, I did not."
"I always did wonder about that darling. Why are ye red?" Rowena asks, obviously trying to distract, or placate, so they can come to an agreement on the problematic subsection 12.
"I always thought it was because I loved too much." I feel my entire being tighten as I laugh. "Now, subsection 12...non negotiable mother."
"But Fergus-"
"Mother, you break the NDA, I own your soul. Ad infinitum."
"Darlin. I'm a denizen of Hell. You already own it."
"Not with freeheld ownership." Rowena sighs. If Crowley got freeheld ownership...well he had just explained it.
"Fergus. To yer own mother?" Crowley stares.
"De-mon." Rowena side eyes her son and purses her lips.
"How about I share the location of the rest of my spell books? The...book of the damned?" Crowley scoffs.
"Do you have a way to destroy it?"
"N-no? Why would you want-"
"Mother, if that book is available, someone could use it. Artefacts with that type of power, cause power plays, attempts to grab my throne. If I'm the only game in town, everyone comes to me. No. Unless it's poorly hidden, I don't care." Crowley looks at his mother. "You did hide it where it's inaccessible, not just ...hard to find, right? I don't want that book available to anyone. Ever!" Rowena stares. Her son had changed. There was a time when he would have given anything for that book, for its power. To gain power quickly, ensure his victory then and there. Now he was going through with a plan that required something he always claimed to not possess.
Patience.
If Crowley waited, just quietly collected souls…
"Yer' serious about this, aren't ye Fergus?"
"About what? My contract with you? It's passing time."
"No Fergus. This plot of yers! This...gatherin' of souls! When will it stop? When ye rival Lucifer? When ye explode? When ye can't be killed? When, when ye cease to be my son?!" Crowley pauses with a glass half way to his mouth. Rowena was showing concern, actual concern. No, no she just wanted to know how powerful he thought he could get, it had to be. That's what you're thinking, right Crowley?
He sends a jolt of pain my way, rips into me with red smoke; a half second of a reaction before ignoring me.
"Mother. Many things can kill me, it just doesn't stick as well as it should anymore. I believe once, when I was still with Chew Toy on the first contract, I got half way into the empty before her soul pulled me back. Was drowsy for a day or two after that." I remembered that, he had come to me and instead of the normal banter or take over, he slept for two days. Fun fucking two days. Terrifying. But fun. Summoned an angel blade so I could sketch it, and his scotch for when he woke up. Didn't dare try anything else, but he was appreciative enough of the scotch to forgive the fact that I had used his powers. He took the drawing though. Pity, it was a good sketch. "Also, you seem to be under the impression that I plan to stop collecting souls." Rowena's eyes widen.
"Ye...what!?"
"Until now, no side effects. And the side effects, not entirely unpleasant. Besides, do you really... want to find out what happens if I go into withdrawal, from this?" Rowena visibly cringes. I would if I could too. On the show...Crowley went through what, five... six humans worth of blood? And those were the ones that were visible...on a show that was on tv and made palatable for the common viewer. Crowley smirks. "How many bodies did Sam tell you I drained." Rowena is silent. "Did he even tell you?"
"He said twenty." I cringe. Not at the number but at Crowley's reaction.
"Mother, a month, 20 bodies? I'm a growing demon, try 152."
"Fergus! Demons dinnae grow!"
"Well, not then maybe, but now. I think I've grown a rather poetic three inches since I started my new diet." He taps his pen on the desk and waits for his mother to fumble, make a mistake. She had already made some; a few today, and some long ago that still festered. "So, mother dearest, many things point to you having changed, but I don't buy it. Not after the things you said, DID to me." Crowley stands and begins to circle the desk.
I could cry. It was like knowing the future. When he let me in on his plans. Nearly every outcome was going to end in pain.
He was tired. Tired of 'friends' and 'family' changing their mind about him. Betraying him. He was done. Perhaps everyone respected him for his sacrifice, missed him, loved him.
Look how long that lasted.
Castile killed him, or tried, again, because he wanted to bury two very powerful objects. And hadn't even really let him explain.
Dean only called him from the Empty because he needed something. And even then it was something that probably could have been resolved by confronting the boys greatest fear. Talking.
Sam cursed him and tried to trap him when he came to make a deal with Dean regarding Sam's soul, despite that being the best way for Crowley to give them a fighting chance against his mother.
The demons didn't hesitate to replace him, didn't care he left. It's why he had gotten rid of 79% of them with dangerous job placements and then went on the biggest recruitment drive ever to make new demons.
And well, his mother, she had taken too much from him. He wouldn't believe her until he had proof.
Painful proof.
"Fergus, I-"
"When you killed your dear little boy Osrik-"
"Oskar!"
"Whatever. I gave you a choice-"
"It wasn't much of a choice dear, and I forgave you for that, it was my fault you- " Crowley ignores her, nothing she said or did would make him believe her. Not anymore. Not even if he wanted to.
"And yet, I gave you a choice, and would have stood by your decision. When you took My son, Your Grandson, from me, you declined to offer me the same. So, mother, I think it's far more than you deserve, but I'm going to offer you three choices." Crowley pauses and stands in front of her. "Sign the contract. Now." They hadn't even reached the bottom yet, where, from what Crowley had just let me know, it was obvious that the contract wasn't really about giving Crowley a safe spot to retreat to if he died. Crowley raises a brow. "Return to your prison, or...join me."
"Fergus...Crowley, I'm already here." Crowley huffs a slight laugh.
"Sorry mother, in the suspense of the moment I suppose I could have worded that better. I meant join Chew Toy."
"Fergus, I love-"
"Prove it! You have said that to me before, and lied, used and abused a feeling you Knew I craved more than any other! You Know what demons are! A contradiction of reduction and amplification of their human needs! Did you know mother, it took half the time it usually takes to turn me into a demon? I thought I was weak; no, it's because before I was even in Hell someone had already begun the process of destroying Fergus. I didn't know how to love when I was alive! I only learned, from the bloody Winchester's, what family meant! And they still bloody betrayed me! And the sickest, most depraved, horrible thing is..." Crowley has been pacing, circling, not looking at her, not seeing her tears until now. "I Still crave your love." The words are a jab, a leash leading her to a challenge that he could use to break his mother's floodgates. He was an actor after, trained and practiced in eliciting the reaction he wanted from an audience. This was no different.
"Ye have it Fergus!"
"Prove. It." Rowena looks up with a tear stained face. Full of regret that this is what she had caused her son to become, even if it meant he was one of the more powerful beings on the planet.
"What would ye have me do? How?"
"Mother. A soul can't lie. So…" a pen appears on the desk, a familiar one. "Sign it."
"And that will do what? Allow ye to destroy me at will?"
"So? You love me, don't you trust me?"
"Fergus, I will always love ye, but I will never trust ye." Rowena looks at her son and turns, silently, toward the contract. I watch, silently, as she uncaps the pen. Crowley stands in the silence, as she puts pen to paper.
And I cry, silently, as she signs it.
She looks at her son as the contract vanishes and Crowley raises a hand, fingers ready to make his favorite sound.
And the silence breaks like the false hope both of us held.
