After their first unofficial meeting together in his mother's living room, Crowley decided to meet up with his mother at least once a week (sometimes twice if things were slow in Hell) just to talk. But instead of talking about the Winchester's latest battles or what was going on in the supernatural world, they made a conscious effort to talk about themselves. Since he was only eight when she'd been forced to flee, Rowena felt she'd missed much of his childhood and overall humanity, and asked him endless questions about his life. Crowley, who felt that his mother had never showed any genuine interest in him except for when it suited her, felt like his mother had been hiding behind a selfish smoke screen for all this time, and was only now getting to know what it felt like to have a mother who cared. Very slowly, their bond was beginning to forge itself, and their trust in one another was beginning to grow. Both were cautious when expressing any feelings to one another, not wanting to be hurt again, but each risk of revealing an emotion to the other person was met with rewards. After about a month they were both finally feeling comfortable enough with each other to not get paranoid that every meeting would end in disaster.
For Rowena, every meeting was an affirmation that she was embracing the spark of motherhood inside of her. The spark, once attempted to be crushed out, was now being fanned into a raging flame. She discovered to her amazement and delight that fanning that flame had not weakened her as she had once feared. Instead, it strengthened her. It made her more alert, more aware of her surroundings. Right now, her life was perfect.
But there was one small blemish on her otherwise perfect world.
The dream she'd had the first night had continued to reappear, but this time it was slightly different.
This time, Fergus was snatched out of her arms by an unseen face. He kept running and running until he was out of sight. She screamed for him to stop, but he never did, and she couldn't catch up with him. Every time the nightmare woke her she felt like she couldn't breathe. And every time, she calmed herself down with deep breathing, and replayed the events of their last meeting, whatever it may have been. Her fingers always itched to pick up the phone in those moments, but she kept telling herself that he didn't want her bothering him. It might have been easier for her if she were physically affectionate with her son, but neither of them were huggers. It was just a step too far in her opinion, and his. She kept wondering what the dream was trying to tell her, but couldn't figure it out. She searched for symbolic meaning as well as literal ones. Was she afraid of losing her son again? That was logical. Was she afraid of this relationship being taken from her? Certainly. But what else did it mean? A possible kidnapping? Unknown forces acting against them? She racked her brain daily, trying to understand what it could be, but nothing ever came of it. So she learned to let it go.
Another few months passed by, and slowly the nightmares began to dissipate as mother and son grew closer. Somewhere along the line, their enmity toward each other vanished almost entirely, and their sarcasm was greatly reduced, but not gone. It was, after all, a part of who they were. After over three hundred years, they were finally behaving like a mother and son should.
The difference in the both of them drew the attention of others in their lives. Crowley's Demons noticed the difference in him straight away. He seemed to stand straighter, and he exuded power instead of mere apathy. But he also seemed less bitter. It was a puzzling conundrum for his underlings. The Winchester's too picked up on this, but even they couldn't put all of the pieces together. The idea of Crowley and Rowena on good terms was simply an idea too bizarre to contemplate.
It was a Tuesday afternoon when mother and son met next. They had tea on the couch as was now their tradition and talked for an hour or two. They had no idea that during their talk, they were being watched.
Some of Lucifer's followers had decided to see what exactly was making their king so happy. When they found out, they were displeased to say the least. So, they decided to make a plan to overturn their leader. They sent some of the demons that worked lesser jobs to try and track down some of the former members of The Grand Coven who might help them in their quest. There were only two left in the world.
Annabel Young and Fiona Paterson.
Annabel was a blonde haired blue eyed girl in a tightly fitted black dress with a slit all the way up to her thigh, and a diamond necklace at her throat. Originally a shy girl, becoming a witch had transformed her into a confident woman who used magic on a whim to fit her needs. For her, taking down Rowena was a matter of pride. All her life she'd strived to be the best witch in the Coven, but Rowena was always one step ahead of her. When she'd fled, Annabel had risen to the top, but had never had the chance to show up Rowena once and for all. For her, this was a final ceremony that had been long overdue.
And then there was Fiona, the light red haired girl with hazel eyes and freckles, who had been and still was the quietest member of the Coven.
Within every Coven things tended to be a little bit high school in the matter of hierarchy. Olivette was at the top of the food chain, Rowena and Annabel below her, branching out until they reached the bottom. And at the bottom of that pyramid of power was Fiona Paterson. She had been the group scapegoat from the beginning. Rowena had been particularly relentless in pointing out Fiona's shortcomings. After the Coven was forced to disband, Fiona went her own way and began to realize just how badly she'd been treated. So when the demons came asking for her help, she was delighted to comply, and prove once and for all that she would not be fooled again.
Two weeks later, everything was prepared. When Crowley went to his mother's that Tuesday, Annabel, Fiona, and several demons surrounded the throne room where their king was sure to appear. Then, they lay in wait for their prey to walk into the lion's den.
At precisely four o'clock, Crowley said goodbye to his mother, snapped his fingers, and reappeared in his throne room, with an army of demons and two witches waiting for him.