A/N

Thanks to Shademuller for my first ever review on fanfiction. This chapter is longer. It gets a little crazy/darker, but also has some good stuff in it about Keigh's relationship with Crowley.

Enjoy.

Entry 8

Hi don't flip if this is kinda awful I'm totally freaking out and don't know what the never mind hey okay I am here to write, right? OK. OK.

So- yesterday was kind of horrible. Or I think it was yesterday. Anyway, it was just awful, and I freaked out and tried to hide in the closet. Lilith came bugging me, but I couldn't tell her that I kind of care about De- um, about some guy. Geez, I hope nobody reads this.

What happened was this- a million ghosts of people Dean and Sam couldn't save all attacked them at once. I knew Lilith was up to something, but she's always up to something. I don't think I've ever seen Dean that scared. Dean is my hero. He's this, like, normal-ish human who knows what's right and he actually is sort of doing it and he has friends that he actually likes, and they're not going to kill him for being weak or something. Maybe I'm exaggerating, but I would give a lot to be a Winchester and not a Crowley.

So, like, when I saw Dean get hurt, I was just so scared and freaked out, and I couldn't tell anybody, so I just bottled it up, and the next thing I know I'm somewhere enclosed, and I'm crying and freaking out, and Lilith is on my tail. I couldn't deal with her, so I froze up and tried to hide as deep inside my body as I could. I got so my whole personality was taking up a space the size of a tennis ball in my head before- um, well, that's when Crowley came. I guess Ruby must have told him what was going down. Sorry- forgive the Dean-ism. I watch too much "TV."

Somehow, Crowley got Ruby and Lilith to leave me with him. He shut the door, leaving me in the closet or wherever I was, and just sat on the other side. I could hear him breathing, but he didn't try to talk to me. It's probably for the best, because I just couldn't have tried to talk to him. I knew I could never tell anyone what was going on, so I figured I would be catatonic for the rest of my life. It wouldn't be too awful. Crowley would probably still let me hang around, and Lilith wouldn't be any more or less evil either way. Talking can be a defense, but so can silence.

Eventually, I calmed down enough to notice how I was sitting. A broken chair leg was cutting into my back. I didn't move it, but at least I knew what I would do first if I could move. I was sitting on the floor, my legs out in front of me, knees bent to avoid the far wall. My arms were across my stomach, and my head felt like somebody had stuffed it full of Jell-O. My toes were sliding against the front of my sneakers, and getting squished by the pressure. My head hurt all over, but the back of it was flat against the wall and hurt differently because of it. I listened to my own wild heartbeat and the sounds of my dad existing on the other side of the door.

I thought about thinking of something I might say, but it was like all the words had fallen out of my head. I tried to slow down my breathing, but I wasn't successful.

I wished there was some way I could communicate with Crowley, tell him that it was okay to say something, that I was ready to try, but there wasn't much I could do. I didn't feel safe enough to move, and just trying to think about saying something made me feel ten times worse. So, instead, I bent my head forward and then smacked it back into the wall, but it made such a dull thud that I was sure Crowley wouldn't even hear it, and I was too exhausted to try again.

I was out of options, and the thought made me start crying again. Crowley heard that and opened the door.

"Keigh," he said, and he sounded different than I'd ever heard him before. He stared at me, then looked away. "I'm so sorry," he said, in a slightly muffled voice.

I turned and looked at him, but that was all I could do. Doing anything bigger made me feel like I was being torn apart and scattered throughout outer space. So I stared at my dad, trying to fool myself into thinking I could communicate something with my eyes if I stared hard enough. Anything. The last thing I would ever want to do is stay in that place where I was.

Crowley didn't seem sure whether to meet my gaze, or look away. He kept starting to do something and then thinking better of it. I hoped with all of my might that he would just do something, wouldn't give up on me. There was nothing I could do to help, but if he didn't give up, there was hope that I might be okay again someday.

"I've been a terrible father," he said, sadly. Then he started crying, too. I don't know which of us was more shocked.

I looked at him, hard, again, once again trying to communicate something with my eyes. This time, I knew what I wanted to say.

"You're always my dad and I love you. Please don't go away."

But I couldn't say it. I couldn't even make my mouth open. I felt so helpless and ridiculous, and yet there was also something kind of grounding about being limited to a smaller part of life. I guess I felt like my life was in some way more manageable if I couldn't do anything, even though everything was coming apart inside me.

I wiggled my shoe. Crowley saw it.

"Keigh-" he started. Then he stopped with his mouth open. I could tell he didn't know what to say. He settled for putting his hand on the wall above me.

"Keigh, honey- I- am, so, terribly, sorry. And I'm going to stay with you. I won't leave you home alone until I know you're okay. No job is worth losing my daughter. I just wanted you to know that." He looked fierce, as if he would happily destroy anybody who attacked me in any way while I was hurt.

I traced the lines of his coat with my eyes. Dad was usually all spiffed up, but just now his suit coat had a tear in it and his tie was sideways. I'd had no idea my dad cared so much about me. I wished I could say something to him, but there was nothing I could think of to say. I kicked my one foot as hard as I could and hoped he would know that I was trying to say something.

Crowley got a message, but it wasn't the one I meant to send. He started untying my shoes.

"Are your feet hurt, Keigh?" he asked me. I shook my head numbly. What was wrong with me had nothing to do with my feet. He finished taking off my shoes and snapped his fingers, making his doing-paperwork slippers appear, and he put them on my feet and tied them on. How could he have known one of the few things that could make me feel better?

I took the chair leg out from behind my back and threw it into the back of the closet. Crowley smiled at that.

"You don't seem too comfortable, dearest," he joked. I frowned. Crowley picked me up carefully and transported us back to our digs. We kind of live in a kind of shared enormous house thing, but Crowley and I have our own kitchen, living room, and a couple of bedrooms. He set me down in an easy chair and wrapped a blanket around me. I snuggled up and curled into a little ball. Crowley sat on the couch opposite and looked awkward.

"I love you , Keigh," he said. "I'm not used to acting like a real dad. I've been a lousy father, and I can never make that up to you, but I want to try."

I started to shiver. I guess I had been sitting still too long, and now that I was calmed down, my body started to lose heat.

Crowley found me a baggy sweatshirt and made me a cup of coffee. I'd never drunk coffee, and didn't think I could untuck my arms from the blanket long enough to drink anything anyway, but it was a nice gesture. I tried to process what he was saying to me, but there's only so much a person can process in one day, and I was already catatonic. All I knew was that Crowley was acting really different, and it was kind of nice.

Crowley didn't do a lot more quantifiable things that day, but he did bring his work into the living room where I could see him, and check on me every half hour or so.

I still haven't dared to say anything to anybody yet, and I haven't even thought about leaving our flat, but I managed to write this okay. Crowley is making pancakes, I think. Who knew? I didn't even know my dad could cook, let alone would.

I'm gonna go, like, eat pancakes. So, bye.