Here comes Crowley… the sneaky devil. : ) Pretty Serious this time around.( I like writing less serious as a general rule)...but Crowley was fun to write for, so I didn't go too insane pounding the chapter out. Things will hopefully lighten up for a bit after this…wonder what Aiyla will do after that conversation with Crowley? Something tells me she's tired of being a victim. Hmmmm
As always, feedback and comments are always welcome : )
Chapter 14
Crowley lounged in the kitchen doorway. Eyeing the shattered remains of the plate strewn across the floor, he clucked his tongue, "There goes the good china."
Aiyla opened her mouth to scream, "Ca….!"
Crowley snapped his fingers and Aiyla suddenly felt an invisible hand vice around her throat, cutting off her scream. The King of Hell pushed from the doorframe, tsking as he approached her. The broken shards of the blue plate crunched beneath his feet like brittle bone. He wagged his finger at her, "Ah, Ah ,Ah poppet…we have no need of that bothersome celestial."
Aiyla turned to run. Crowley simply flicked his wrist and sent her sliding violently forward. Her feet dragged painfully across the broken shards as she slid across the floor. Her momentum was stopped when her belly slammed hard against the edge of the kitchen table. Her hands slapped flat against the tabletop. She tugged frantically, but they wouldn't budge. Spots started to dance before her vision as the need for oxygen grew greater. She could hear the crunch of glass as Crowley approached her from behind. She twisted as far as she was able and cranked her head to watch his lazy approach.
"Settle down pet, I've only come to talk.'
Aiyla stilled, desperate for air, eyes darting frantically. Where was Bobby?
Crowley grinned, "If you're looking for the old buzzard, you're wasting your energy. The imbecile is tinkering outside with some old jalopy." He clasped his hands and grinned, "Which means I have you all to myself. Now then…if you promise to be a good girl, I'll take off the gag."
Despite the dizziness the lack of air created, Aiyla hesitated…but then slowly nodded. Crowley raised his hand to snap, but paused, eyes narrowing. "Don't even think about calling for our dear angel friend. If you force me to silence you again, I can't promise you won't find yourself permanently affixed with a nasty case of lock-jaw." He snapped.
Aiyla gasped, greedily drawing in huge gulps of air. "H…How did you…"
"Get in?" Crowley tried to look offended. "Oh ye of little faith." He raised his arms and gestured theatrically to himself, "King of Hell, remember?"
Aiyla furrowed her brow, "But Ca…" She paused at Crowley's warning glance, "…the angel placed the wards himself."
Crowley rolled his eyes, "Fine. You got me. You might say It was actually a rather fortuitous twist of fate." He jerked his head toward the ceiling. "Latch is broken on your window, Luv. I'm afraid all the wards in the world aren't much good when what they're protecting isn't properly sealed. All it took was one nice gust of wind and voila, King of Hell, at your service"
"Aiyla's shoulders slumped, "Oh."
Crowley strolled around the kitchen, studying his surroundings. "Really Aiyla, If you planned to upgrade prisons…you could have done better than shacking up with the Winchesters," He shook his head while clucking his tongue. "I hate to tell you this, but whoring yourself out to an angel, a drunk, and two codependents with daddy issues…why, it's really quite tacky my dear. I'm afraid that lilywhite reputation of yours will be in tatters."
Aiyla forced her fear down, searching for at least a semblance of courage, "It's not like that. They…They're…"
Crowley smirked, "What? Your friends?" He broke out into a full grin, shaking his head. "Come now, my little Jezabel. You have more sense than that. Let's be honest, hmmm?"
Aiyla couldn't help the quivering that wracked her body as Crowley sidled up next to her, running a finger along the line of her jaw. Leaning in, he whispered next to her ear, "They're your new wardens' poppet."
Aiyla jerked her head away from his hand, "You're wrong."
Crowley cast her a pitying look, "Ah, Denial. How quaint. Think about it my dear. Your whole life you've simply traded out one prison for the next, starting with that bothersome whore. The witch hid you away from the world. Kept you on a short leash didn't she?" Crowley raised the deep timber of his voice, mimicking a woman, "Don't go beyond the glade! The outside world is a dangerous place…blah blah blah. Any of this sound familiar?"
Aiyla shook her head vehemently, "Amee loved me!"
The demon rolled his eyes. "Love." He spit out the world as if it created a vile taste in his mouth, "Sopping drivel, the lot of it. How's that old bit of song go? Ahhhh yes…love must never hold tight, never hold tight… but let go. Miserable bit of word vomit that…but I think ye can appreciate the sentiment. She kept you there out of nothing more than fear, my sweet." He watched her face, grinning as it paled even further. "Deep down you've always known it. How do you think I found you in the first place hmmm?" He placed his hands in his pockets, warming to his story as he strolled around the room, "Poor little poppet, curious for more…wandering further than she ever had before. Poor little poppet, with dreams in her head...not ever knowing, they would kill a witch dead."
"Stop it!" Aiyla turned her head away.
Crowley ignored her, continuing, "From the first moment you stepped beyond the witch's wards, she was as good as dead and you were mine. One prison for another. But then you had the audacity to escape…and with the Winchesters no less." He placed a hand over the place where his heart would be…if he had one. "You cut me deep. I mean come on…the Winchesters? Really? I tell you, a demon can only take so much." Crowley shrugged off his feigned distress and caught her gaze. "Luckily for you poppet, I've got bigger pots to stir at the moment. As such, I'm inclined to let the Winchesters and the angel keep you...generous of me, I know. Pity though, considering the power a soul like yours could hold…the melding of an angel, and demon, and a human…and all that monster blood to boot…ah the possibilities"
Aiyla cursed the traitorous tear that tracked down her cheek. "I'm not your poppet…and I'm not a thing to be sold or traded or…or kept! I'm free and I'll make my own choices!"
Crowley smiled at her patronizingly, "I admire the false bravado…but you were destined for slavery the moment your mother drank the first drop of demon blood. You are a monster Aiyla…and the hunters know it as well as the next person. The angel too. You are not as smart as I thought if you think they're sheltering you out of the goodness of their hearts. I tell you this out of concern for your well being my dear. Think about who you've allied with. Hunters. Hunters hunt monsters like you my dear…they hunt them dead."
"I…I'm not a monster. They…they would never…"
Crowley raised his eyebrows, seemed to consider her words. "Whatever helps you sleep at night my dear. But I ask you this, what do you think they will do if you try to leave? Hmmm? Something has me thinking, they won't pack you a picnic basket, pat you on the head, and send you on your merry way with a smile and a wave. But then again, what do I know…I'm just a lowly demon."
She would have clenched her hands into fists if they didn't remain plastered to the table. "If you aren't here to steal me back, then what do you want?"
Crowley shrugged, "Oh, just checking up on you…I'm considerate like that. Thought you might like to know that the angel you're so fond of is…Oh bollocks."
Castiel appeared in the doorway, his eyes murderous. "Step away from her Crowley." Bobby stood behind him, crossing his arms.
The demon inclined his head in greeting, "Hello Castiel." He glanced at the old hunter, "Calling an angel to fight your battles for you Bobby? I expected better"
Bobby squared his shoulders, "What can I say. Call me cautious, but when a feller sees the king of hell parlaying in his kitchen…calling in a little celestial backup doesn't seem like such a bad idea.
Crowley sighed, "No matter. Aiyla and I were just finishing up." He turned back to Cass, "You can keep her for now Castiel, consider her a gift…of continued good faith." He reached out, patting Aiyla's cheek and ignoring Cass's growl of warning. "Take care of that soul Poppet, it's a hot commodity, wouldn't you agree Castiel?"
Cass took a step forward, his eyes beginning to glow blue, and giant shadowy wings unfurling.
Crowley snapped his fingers, and disappeared from sight, leaving Bobby, Cass and Aiyla standing in the kitchen.
Bobby looked at Castiel, "Now why in hell would Crowley give you a gift of good faith?"
Cass shrugged, his wings gone and eyes back to normal. "I…have no idea. Perhaps he is afraid to tangle with an angel so soon after his takeover of hell. I imagine his assent to power was not met with unanimous approval from his subjects.
Bobby frowned, but let it go for the moment. He turned to Aiyla. "You ok kiddo? You're whiter than a sheet.
Finally freed of her invisible restraints, Aiyla yanked her hands off the table, and circled her arms around her middle with hooded eyes. "I…I'm ok."
Bobby narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing a word she said. He opened his mouth to protest. "The hell you ar…"
Castiel cut him off, crossing the distance to Aiyla in a few short strides he raked his gaze over her.
"What happened?"
…Supernatural….
Crowley reclined behind a giant mahogany desk. The heavy collar that had so recently circled his lost pets neck lay on the desk before him. Absently swirling a glass of brandy in one hand, he stared at it; deep in thought. He smiled. Well, he'd played out his hand…now he would just have to wait and see.
"Poor little poppet, born to the world, Demon, and Human, and Angel all twirled.
Poor little poppet, hidden from sight…her only companion, a witch of the night.
"Poor little poppet, curious for more…wandering further than ever before
Poor little poppet, with dreams in her head...not ever knowing, they would kill a witch dead.
Poor little poppet, stolen away, for the price of her freedom, her soul she could pay.
Poor little poppet, foolish young chit…slave to her blood, forgotten in the pitt.
Poor little poppet, afraid and alone, chained like a dog, imprisoned by stone.
Poor little Poppet, an angels new pet…an angel who owes, a demon a debt.
Foolish little poppet, her greatest mistake…is daring to think she controls her own fate."
Crowley grinned, that was a right brilliant bit of rhyme if he did say so himself. If the whole King of Hell bit fell through…he could always become a poet. Grimacing, he downed his brandy. Ugh…what an awful thought. Hell would freeze over before he let that happen…literally.