Warnings: Hints of torture, sexual situations, light torture depicted… more might be added later depending on how dark I want to take this. Rating may rise in later chapters.
Full Summary: AU Past Parts of SPN S8. Daphne Allen is a saint… and saints are rare creatures. Saints have many powers, useful to both angels… and to demons. Saints can hear the angels speak, their blood can be used for many things, and they have a sight for things that normal humans do not. And, more importantly, saints have the power to redeem a soul. In order to ensure her family's safety, Daphne makes a deal with Crowley—one year of usage of her saintly powers with no arguments, and no interferences.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any related characters. They belong to Kripke. No money made here.
Author's Notes: Thanks for the great reviews! More! LOL. Here's the next chapter! Also, Slinky_And_The_BloodyWands has done some art for this. You'll be able to see it as I post this at Livejournal as well at (remove spaces) patriciatepes. Livejournal. Com. Sorry for the long wait in the update. If you'd like the reason, let's just say that I'm a new—and first-time—mom! Also, some other, physical related reasons. For the full scoop, see my profile here—scroll to the last update at the bottom.
Chapter Four
It had taken Daphne considerably less than an hour to get ready. Since she really didn't feature that a demon deal was too much of a formal affair, she had simply chosen a pair a jeans, and a nice purple, three-quarter length sleeve blouse. The blouse itself was rather plain, and in the few moments she had known Crowley, she was sure that this would be a point of inquiry. But she didn't care. She had found where Crowley had also transported her basic make-up and hair care supplies. She had put on a fresh layer of powder base, and had run her fingers through her semi-curly hair in lieu of brushing.
Past that, Daphne had exited the bathroom to find that she still had a good forty-five minutes before Crowley would be back to collect her. She walked to the very center of the room and paused, wrapping her arms about herself. Her eyes trailed over the various objects she had noted before—the dresser, vanity, bookshelf, and so on—and sighed. She really did feel like Belle in Beauty and the Beast… she suddenly found herself wondering if there was some large library somewhere within the manor. She laughed, no real humor behind the move, as her eyes fell back to the dresser. She cocked her head to the side, moving slowly toward the piece of furniture. It was a good deal taller than most dressers Daphne had ever dealt with, with the very top of it lining up with the very top of her own head. She reached her hand up, feeling and finding what she searched for.
The coin that Crowley had given her, to listen in on her family and make sure that they were all right, was smaller than she had originally thought. She turned the brass object over in her hand, rubbing her thumb across the raised head and writing that appeared on both sides. She held it in the palm of her hand as she gazed down at it. Her heart was filled with the longing to hear her daughter's voice… and suddenly overwhelmed with guilt. She had promised Elle that she would be right back… and yet, she had never made it back inside the house. Daphne's breath quickened as she enclosed the coin tightly in her fist, her eyes shutting just as tightly. She had to hear her. She had to make sure that Elle was all right… that Castiel had kept his promise.
But no matter how much she silently willed it, she heard nothing but the deafening silence of her room. Growling softly, she opened her fist, and shook the coin once, angrily.
"How do you work?" she muttered at it.
No sooner had the words left her lips, the all too familiar voices of Elle, her sister, and Castiel filled her ears. And Elle was clearly upset, even by sound alone. Daphne would know the sound of her daughter's sad sniffles anywhere.
"The time will… pass quickly, I'm sure," Castiel was saying.
"I want Momma," Elle said, near to the point of demanding.
"Mommy's… Mommy's gotta work… for a long time," Laura attempted to explain in the best way she could make a two and a half year old understand what a demon deal was. "But when she's done, she'll come straight home. Until then… until then, Daddy's here with you."
That did little to comfort the child, sending her spiraling into a fit of tears. Daphne's heart broke. She should've gone back inside… if even for a moment. Or would that have been wrong? She mulled this over for a moment, listening on as Castiel made another attempt at comforting the girl. Finally, however, two new voices entered the room. Daphne, oddly, recognized Dean… it wasn't often that one forgot the voice of the man who was last seen with your missing husband. But the other voice was one that she had never heard before, not as deep as Dean's… but there were tones there that the two shared. Could this be the mysterious second Winchester, the one that Daphne had yet to meet?
"Elle," Castiel began, "this is—"
But he was cut off by Dean.
"Uncle Dean… and this is Uncle Sam. We're going to hang out here with you and Daddy, okay?"
Elle was whimpering, but Daphne could almost imagine her sweet girl's nod. Finally, with a sigh, Laura spoke up.
"I'm going to go fix her something to eat, all right?" the younger Allen woman practically snapped.
Daphne sighed, putting her free hand—the one not holding the coin—to her forehead. These men were risking life and limb to make sure that Laura and Elle remained safe… the least her sister could do was be polite. The room was silent as the sound of two pairs of footsteps departed. Daphne frowned, wishing that she knew how to access the rest of the coins that Crowley had hinted at. She wished to hear more of Elle's voice, even if she couldn't see her. But the coin she listened in on was still the one in the room with Dean, Sam, and Castiel.
"Okay, I'm going to be up front about this," Dean said after a moment. "Why the hell aren't we trying to come up with a way to rescue Daphne, Cas?"
Suddenly, Daphne wished she wasn't still standing in front of the dresser. She longed for a seat to collapse into. They couldn't. They couldn't come after her. That would be in breach of the deal! Elle and Laura would be in immediate and terrible danger. Daphne shook her head at the coin.
"No, no, no, Castiel… Please," she pleaded with the metal object.
"We cannot," Castiel said simply
Daphne sighed, but apparently the Winchesters were not ones to let sleeping dogs lie.
"Why not?" Sam asked.
"Because there is nothing we can do, even should we go after her. Daphne made a deal, and she is bound by that deal. It is an old law, but one that stands," Castiel explained.
"But it's not a real deal," Dean argued. "I mean, you said that she didn't sell her soul or anything."
Now the angel was sounding exasperated by his friends. And frankly, Daphne was feeling a little annoyed with them as well. The way Dean made it sound, if her soul wasn't involved, then it wasn't… as important or something. She fumed at this for a moment or two before she finally shook it from her brain. Of all the things she should have on her mind that was not one of them.
"It doesn't matter," Castiel sighed. "The deal she made is bound by the same rules. We just can't go after her. Besides, doing so would leave Laura and Elle in terrible danger."
"But we could find a way around that," Sam argued. "What about Garth?"
"Garth is still not safe. Or do you not remember when Crowley took Kevin? Garth nearly perished, and Crowley has still got the Prophet."
Daphne's lips pursed. Crowley had a prophet and a saint? Something about that made her stomach roll in a very bad way. Her eyes glued on the coin, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a knock came on her bedroom door. She yelped, pulling open the first drawer her hand touched—the second from the top—and tossing the coin inside. Instantly, she could no longer hear the sounds from her home. She turned toward the door, clearing her throat.
"Come in," she said.
But Crowley was already entering the room. Daphne sighed, wrapping her arms back about her shoulders. The King of Hell came to a stop, his brow raised.
"That's what you're wearing?" he asked scathingly.
Daphne almost wanted to laugh. However, the sound of her daughter's tears were still too fresh on her mind, and she only nodded.
"Yes. Are we leaving now?" she asked.
Smiling back at her, he closed the small distance between the two of them, his arms open as if in a grand gesture of welcoming. He finally placed his hands on either of her shoulders, and Daphne winced, wondering whether the smarter move would be getting out of the grip, or staying in it. In the end, she simply leaned back a little as Crowley continued to grin at her.
"I'm so excited about this deal, my dear. You see, we're going at this like we've been shot out of a cannon. I'm testing the waters of our relationship immediately… no shallow wading for us."
Daphne really didn't like the sound of that. Her eyes narrowed, she finally took a single step out of his gentle hold on her, shaking her head.
"I don't understand. I thought you needed me to open the gates of Hell… not sealing deals. Why waste your time?"
Crowley grinned. "A fair question, I suppose. But as I explained earlier, you haven't exactly been using your saintly powers. Plus, I like to multitask… cover all my bases, as it were. If I can use you to open the gates of Hell and seal a few deals to get a few extra souls for the Pit… then great. Now, come along. We really don't want to be late."
With that, he snapped his fingers, and Daphne gasped to find herself in an altogether different location. They were off to the side of a dirt and gravel crossroads, the ditches of which were absolutely covered in various weeds and wild flowers. They stood in the shadows cast by a nearby, yellow street lamp—which fascinated Daphne in and of itself that a publicly installed street lamp would be so far out here in what was clearly the middle of nowhere.
"I don't—" Daphne began, but Crowley put a finger to her lips, silencing her.
He then removed it to point at the center, where the roads met. A young woman—no older than her mid-twenties, easily—was busy shoving dirt over into a small hole. She patted it down once, packing it, as she stood, brushing off the worn denim jeans she wore, her eyes scanning the night around her.
"Showtime," Crowley laughed, and in a blink he and Daphne went from the shadows to standing just in front of the woman, who jumped at their arrival.
"Hello, Felicity, dear," Crowley said, addressing the dark-haired woman like the two were old friends.
"I want to make a deal," Felicity said, utterly ignoring the pleasantries.
This seemed to annoy Crowley a little, and Daphne had to bite down a small grin at that. For a demon who had, undoubtedly, done his stint in Hell, he certainly had a very ordered way he liked things to go in. Much fussier than Daphne would have ever expected a demon to be.
"I see. So you've reconsidered. Well, it remains the same, darling… you get what you want, and in ten years, you come to me," Crowley explained in a semi-bored voice.
Felicity nodded. "I understand. Look, I just want my husband to get better. I mean, the doctors… they're telling me that he's got days left. Just days. Ten years would be… would be a miracle."
Crowley's smile twitched at that, and Daphne was sure that she knew why. Surely nothing a demon could produce would ever be considered a "miracle." But the King of Hell nodded knowingly.
"Easily fixed, dear. All it takes is sealing the deal," he said.
Felicity nodded, but stopped a little short. She pointed a thin finger at Daphne, her eyes still on the demon.
"I don't understand why she's here," she said.
"You'll understand soon enough. Have we got a deal? Your husband's life… for your soul?" Crowley asked.
Daphne pursed her lips. She really couldn't fault this woman. It didn't take much thinking of what Daphne would be willing to do if Elle or Laura ever got sick. Then again, she had sold not her soul, but just a year of her time to the King of Hell in exchange for her family's safety. Did that mean that her love had a limit? She liked to think not… after all, where would Elle be in ten years without her mother? No, the year was still a sacrifice, but a practical one. After all, this poor woman's husband was going to come home in ten years to find his wife dead and gone for seemingly no reason.
However, Felicity nodded, taking a single step forward with closed eyes. Crowley reached out with his right hand, entangling his fingers in the woman's long, too-straight hair as he gently tugged her forward until their lips pressed against one another. Daphne grimaced as the kiss seemed to go on forever. Finally, however, Crowley let go, and Felicity all but jumped back from the demon.
"Now," Crowley said, "as to the reason my friend is here with me. To heal your husband, you'll need to feed him a rather special treat."
Daphne's gaze fell to Crowley as he reached out, grasping her right hand and tugging it until her arm extended straight out from her body. From within the folds of his jacket with his freer hand he withdrew the smallest glass vial Daphne had ever seen, standing no more than two inches tall.
"What are you doing?" Daphne growled.
Felicity watched on with wide eyes as Crowley pressed his thumb into Daphne's wrist. She hissed with the pain as her skin broke and a dark trail of blood dripped down into the waiting vial. Crowley let it go for a few moments until the container was nearly full. Then, he let her hand go, and Daphne immediately sacrificed a corner of her shirt to wrap the wound up in as Crowley corked the vial. He held it out to Felicity.
"Make your husband drink this. You can mix it in a coffee or give it to him straight, doesn't matter. But it will heal him."
The woman's eyes lit up as she snatched up the vial. She thanked him profusely as she ran off to where her car was parked a little ways up the road behind her.
"See you in ten years, Felicity," Crowley called after her.
Daphne waited until she heard the car start and drive away before turning back to the demon. Her eyes ablaze, she took a menacing step forward.
"What the hell?" she cried out, since no one was close enough to hear her. "What gives you the right to just take my blood?"
"Our deal, remember? No arguments," Crowley chuckled.
"But, but… for a deal? That doesn't make any sense! I mean, you're the king of Hell! Why are you even responding to these deals?" she ranted.
Crowley shrugged. "Because it's fun, honestly… and a lot less stressful than running Hell. It makes me remember a simpler time in my life. Now, come along, dear. Time to go home. I'm sure you're quite tired from your long night of work… and the events of the day. Got to keep my saint fresh and prepped."
Daphne sighed, not bothering to hide her disgust. But the demon only laughed and snapped his fingers, dropping her off in her room alone. She shook her head and headed for the bathroom, intent to treat her wound.
This deal was looking more and more like a worse situation than she could have ever guessed.