"You're more than welcome to leave, Squirrel," Crowley paused for a moment, just long enough to give Dean a sidelong glance.
Grace sucked in a breath as the needle entered her arm, letting it out slowly with the extraction of her blood. When it was over she flexed her fingers and shook her arm, trying to get the normal feeling back in her arm.
"Why are your doing this, Crowley. Huh? I'm sure being on the verge of humanity feels great. The pain, the food, the sex. But what about Abbadon? I'm sure being human is making killing her a hell of a lot easier," Dean shouted from across the room.
"It's your fault I'm in this mess to begin with!" Crowley howled. "If you two hadn't locked me up in that god-forsaken shit hole of a bunker and pumped me full of the stuff we wouldn't be standing here!" The two glasses of whiskey shattered, causing Grace to jump slightly. The feeling was suddenly incredibly annoying.
"Now look what you've done," Crowley gestured exaggeratedly at the mess on the table.
"You should leave," Grace said firmly. "I'm sorry I called you. Thank you for the coffee...and the pants," She nodded at Sam, not willing to even look at Dean. She ignored the mindless arguing as Sam managed to convince Dean to leave.
"Take those off," Crowley tugged at the loose pocket of Grace's sweatpants. "They reek of Dean Winchester," He snapped his fingers, banishing the broken glass and spilled alcohol as he strode back to the decanter.
"But they're-"
"I said take them off!" Crowley spun on Grace and she sunk into herself. She didn't waste a second in taking off the sweatpants and folding them neatly. She stood back, eyeing them from where they sat on the couch. Now she was cold, cornered, and unsure.
She watched as Crowley poured himself another drink and took a sip before shrugging off his coat, loosening his tie, and rolling up his sleeve. Grace started to turn away, but suddenly found herself rooted to the spot.
"You will watch. No pet of mine is going to be squeamish," Grace remained frozen as Crowley approached her again. He looked perfectly calm and perfectly serious, which seemed like more of a danger than his usual playfulness.
He stopped in front of her at such a proximity that she had no choice, but to look. He pushed the needle into his arm slowly, as if he enjoyed it. She watched, swallowing thickly as her blood drained into his vein. He withdrew the needle, a small bead of blood marking the injection site. He tossed the syringe aside where it landed harmlessly on the couch. It took a moment for the effects of her blood to take. She could see the muscles in his face relax and feel his overwhelming energy ebbing.
Grace found herself released, stumbling slightly at the change. Crowley released a breath through his nose and rubbed his temples.
"I'm sorry, pet," He stepped forward, cupping Grace's cheek and rubbing his thumb under her eye. "I didn't mean to yell. It's those Winchesters," He spat their name like a curse and Grace winced slightly. Dean she understood, but Sam? Well, chances were his caring had gotten in Crowley's way at one time or another.
"Now, how about that drink," Grace kept her distance for the time being. She had wanted to believe that things would be all good between the two of them. She would do what he asked and he would treat her well because of it. Now she realized that wasn't going to be the case. He was still a demon and one powerful enough to become king. As much as she wanted to give in completely to her undeniable feelings towards him she had to keep in mind that he was dangerous and that she was disposable.
She shifted, rubbing her arm and looking around the room while Crowley poured her a drink. Her eyes landed on Dean's sweatpants. She wanted nothing more than to put them on. They were big and baggy and cozy. She didn't particularly like Dean...but his pants were another story.