Disclaimer
Supernatural is a television series, created by Eric Kripke, produced by Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland Sound and Vision and Warner Bros. Television, distributed by Warner Bros. Television
I'm writing this for fun and I'm not making any money from this. The lines quoted from the show are in Italics.
Revelations
Think!
And with that, the wheels started turning. His thoughts were weaving themselves in an unexpected pattern. What was the basic assumption on which he had operated all these years? That Lucifer was the creator of their species and He was the only one who could rule the underworld. But what was He and what did He want? He was an angel. The most powerful of all angels. And He wanted to wipe out humanity. An angel who hated human beings. So how would He feel about a race that was a bastardised version of humanity?
Best case scenario. Lucifer out of the cage. The extermination of the human race. What use would demons be if not to contribute bringing souls into hell. No human race, no souls, no demons. Simple enough. Unthinkable. And yet...
"This is a trick," he said, without conviction, looking at the naked angel on his bed.
She looked back without speaking for a while, letting him read her. Nothing in her features, in her body language, in her aura, nothing gave away a single sign of deceit.
"You didn't ask what is the choice I have to make," she said.
"Too many revelations in such a short time," he muttered, only a trace of the distrust he felt noticeable in his voice.
A smile lifted the corner of her mouth for a second. The smile had been fleeting but Crowley would always remember it. He could make this angel smile.
"Time is precious. It took a lot of planning to have even these few moments alone with you."
Crowley looked at her, trying to ignore the nakedness, and almost completely succeeding. If this was a trap, he was damned (eye-roll) if he could see the end game. He realized he was still silent, with his mouth probably hanging open a little, when she spoke again.
"What is the most important question in the game?"
"Why," he answered.
"Indeed. One should always wonder why something is done."
"All right. Why? Why are you talking to me?"
She looked at him, her expression quietly pleased. A teacher's expression.
"Because you can make a difference."
"Because I'm different?" he asked with a note of derision in his voice.
"Very much so."
Her obvious earnestness was annoying.
"How can you be sure I understood what you wanted me to understand?"
"You are the smartest being I encountered in my whole existence. And that is a long time and a lot of beings. You know what's my role in heaven?"
"Intelligence," he said unable to resist telling the truth.
"I studied, taught and changed more beings than you can imagine. Your mind is flawless. There is nothing I would do to change how it works. The only limitations come from your upbringing and the amount of data you have at your disposal."
"Oh, now, I'm not just different, I'm perfect? Not all demons respond to flattery, you know."
"You're not perfect yet. But it was a matter of timing. This is the only moment when I could reach you unbeknownst to anyone."
"You snuck down here to meet me? Daddy doesn't know? Big brother Michael is in the dark?" he asked trying to annoy her, without avail.
"No. No one knows. I chose this body because it can shield me for a while from heaven. The only way to talk to you was to become human. I am vulnerable now. You can end me and you'd have long enough to get away before they would figure it out," she said.
He remained seated watching as she came toward him, stepping unaffected on the angel sigil. Naked. Beautiful. Obviously mortal.
"I'm mortal now," she confirmed his thoughts. "It would still count as an angel kill if you decide to do it. Your reputation will be enhanced."
His mind worked faster than ever before. She had just opened his mind to the possibility that if Lilith's plan was successful, if Azazel managed to create the perfect vessel for Lucifer, if everything he had worked for would be a success, all humans and all demons would be destroyed. And most likely all angels would live forever in their cold, perfect heaven. Lucifer would destroy a lot of angels, too, in the meantime, but still, not in the least Crowley's idea of a perfect ending. The question that mattered.
"If he loses or if he wins, angels are safe. Why do you want intervene?" he asked her, running his fingers along the side of her body, from waist to thigh, while she remained standing in front of his armchair.
The shivers this contact caused in his physical form helped him draw his mind back just a little from the enormity of what he was contemplating – betraying Satan. He kept the caress light, despite the surge of madness that was pushing him to grab hard the flesh instead of barely touching the skin.
"Humanity," she answered, "rubs off if one deals with humans long enough. You are already feeling it, but you think it's a remnant of your human self. It is not."
Her body was trembling under his touch, her voice was wavering. Her eyes were growing darker, the black of the pupils conquering almost all of the brilliant blue, but she went on speaking.
"They're so... inventive. You can't imagine the boredom before they were here."
Her eyes were heavy lidded, her voice had faint harmonics of lust that were driving him to distraction. He kept touching her, gambling his existence on the guess that he would be able to handle the sensory overload better than her. Both his vessel and himself had a lot more experience with carnal desire than the nun and the angel that resided in her.
"What do you think I can do? You're talking about the hindering the plan of the most powerful of all angels, who is served by the most powerful and most insane of all demons."
"I do not know. But I know that there are none who will do anything."
None who will. Not none who can.
"There are others who can?" he asked softly, while his fingers were burning coldly. He could feel the very real blood flow under the sensation of icy fire. He was less and less able to ignore the feeling of soft skin against his sensitive, curious fingers.
"You yourself named them moments ago."
Daddy. Big brother Michael. Two beings whose power he feared more than that of Lucifer. Although, in the darkest part of his mind, Crowley didn't believe that "Daddy" existed. There had been no intervention from God in thousands of years. And even before that,all there was had come through the words of angels. Angels like Michael or that poor bastard, Metatron.
"Why don't they?"
She shrugged and it did things to her body that made him lose track of the conversation for a heartbeat. She was completely unaware of her nakedness. He was beginning to doubt that he was the more clear minded of them until he heard the softest of sounds escaping her lips.