Notes

The more explicit parts are deleted to comply with the M rating. If you want the full version of this chapter and the uncensored versions of the future smutty chapters, find my account on archiveofourown as goodgirl_astray

I know I'm running the risk of turning Naomi into a Mary Sue character, who knows almost everything and has been involved in almost everything, but I think that the angels have been around and scheming for a lot longer than Crowley and because the writers were so kind as to offer a female angel character, she's the one feeding Crowley information, and she's going to be part of the explanation why two vanilla mortals like the Winchesters had the strength to survive Hell.

Also, I have a doozy of a back story for Naomi, which is probably going to get written. The final chapters of this fic will have spoilers for that one, which will act as a prequel and a companion piece to this one. Writing from a female POV, even if it's a female-angel (grrrr, no such thing right?) should be easier :)

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

Chapter 10 - Naomi's Secret

Her words resonated through Crowley's loneliness. They made him dream of exquisite ways to torture her. She had played along with his need for control, but beyond the shared insanity of them actually having sex in the heart of enemy territory, they both knew she could have made him do anything. She could have taken the pleasure she wanted without as much as a kind word to him. And he resented her for the very kindness of pretending to worship him. That read like a sign of pity. He had to punish her for the insult.

The things he did to her... in his mind, in his darkness, in his frustration!

Naomi never visited him again, but the chance to be free presented itself. The King took every bit of advantage he could out of that situation. He negotiated his freedom, got the famous Gadreel kicked out of Moose, and learned a code word that only the brothers knew. All in all, an excellent outcome.

Crowley was feeling excellent. Mostly about himself. He managed to emerge on top again. His "Vote Crowley" campaign was going well. Having the Winchesters plus Castiel sort of on his side, or at least on a side that was along his side, was as close to a guarantee as possible that Abaddon was for the chop. For good. There was still the irksome problem of actually locating the blade. Hard didn't mean impossible. And Crowley had always loved challenges.

Finding Naomi had been somewhat easier. He was not in the least surprised to find her in a monastery. In his thorough research of this particular foe, Crowley had learned that her current vessel was that of a nun. Undiagnosed at the time, the none had been one of those humans afflicted by Asperger's syndrome. A massive intellect without the burden of empathy. No wonder Naomi had chosen this body! He would bet serious money that Naomi had obtained permission to occupy the body by logical arguments.

He was aware that Naomi was not in the monastery for a communion with "Daddy". She was using their massive collection of texts on supernatural subjects.

It was child's play for Crowley to cast a spell that ensured their privacy. She had been a bad, bad girl not coming to visit him in so long, and things were bound to get loud.

She was looking at the door when he approached, having sensed his presence. She was dressed as a nun, but a different habit than the one she had worn at their first proper meeting. For one thing, no wimple. He could see her face, could really appreciate her hair gathered in a severe, fantasy-librarian bun. And the cute glasses she was wearing were making the picture perfect for the role he had in mind for her.

"Hello darling," he said.

"Crowley," she acknowledged him, looking over the rim of her glasses at him.

She walked towards him without hesitation, but Crowley, in full possession of his powers, didn't even need to make an effort to get the sense of her state. Pure, unadulterated fear, without even an undercurrent of arousal. What was even more annoying, her grace was extremely dimmed. As if she had over exerted herself. He looked around the room, taking in the multitude of manuscripts, but before he could start setting up the game, Naomi's voice broke the silence:

"Stop this cat and mouse game right now! What do you want?"

He advanced and she took a step back, her thighs hitting table. She was effectively trapped between the massive wooden table and his body.

"Is this any way to greet your lover?" he asked, vaguely annoyed that she ruined his opening line.

Oh, if he could bottle this priceless reaction, to preserve it forever, to have it whenever he wanted to get high! Shame made Naomi's cheeks burst in flames. Her face was such a lovely pink colour, Crowley couldn't help reach out to touch it. And just like magic, with that touch, arousal spiked through her fear. After that, emotions started showing like a kaleidoscope. Arousal, shame, worry, guilt.

"Cat got your tongue, love?" he asked, holding her chin between thumb and forefinger.

He leaned closer, as if to kiss her on the mouth, and the tension in her body was painful to behold. She had tensed like a violin cord. He could start playing like a virtuoso on such a responsive instrument. He did want to kiss her, but it wasn't the right time. No way near enough build up to take from her the kiss she feared the most. He reached passed her to one of the manuscripts on the table. Naomi grabbed his arm and tried to push him away. He was almost disappointed to note that she had only her human strength. In a split second, she was splayed on the table, with an arm twisted behind her back. Naomi tried to struggle, but all she managed to do was push all the manuscripts off the table with her free arm.

Crowley slid the angel blade from the sleeve of his coat. He had envisioned more banter first, but seeing librarian-Naomi in that position, sensing her so utterly vulnerable was enough to kick his pent up sexual needs into overdrive. He sliced through the black habit that was hiding her from his sight, but paused before pulling the sides apart. He slid the steel under the fabric, resting the flat of the blade against her skin. She shivered, making him want to feel more of her.

"If you want to stop, at any point, just say Colt," he told her, breaking character enough to offer her the safeword.

He saw her nod and replaced the steel with his fingers. As he made his way under the rough cloth, Naomi shivered even more. The slight tingling of electricity warned him that he was touching her with real affection. The notion bothered him and he threw the angel blade into the table, close the Naomi's right ear. The blade went a few inches in the wood of the table. She gasped, and while the blade was still twinging, Crowley ripped off her clothes. In a rushed movement he pulled down her panties, leaving them across her thighs. She looked beautifully exposed. The scent of her arousal was making his head spin. He ran his fingers along her spine, willing himself not to start spanking her. Not. Just. Yet.

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He untied the belt and gathered her in his arms. They were both shaking, and oddly reluctant to look at each other, as if lucidity would come too soon if they did. Crowley took his coat off and draped it over her shoulders, to cover the fact that the back of her habit was slit. They sat on the edge of the table, in an awkward half embrace.

"How did you get out?" she asked, almost resting her head on his shoulder.

"Oh, the usual. Made myself invaluable and negotiated my freedom."

He felt her relax a little at these words, but didn't make too much of it.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in turn.

"Oh, the usual. Staying dead and keeping my mind alive. I'm trying to find clues about the blade, but... nothing. Did you have any luck?"

"Not with the blade," Crowley admitted. "But I did get the other part of the set. The Mark of Cain."

"You don't need the Mark," she said and pulled out of the hug to look at him.

"I'm not going to be the one using the Blade against that Mad Ginger!" he exclaimed. "It's dangerous. I could get killed."

When she didn't even crack a smile, he went on with a shrug.

"Cain gave the Mark to Dean Winchester."

"Dean has the Mark of Cain?" she asked with such horror in her voice that Crowley took a very good look at her. Why would she give a toss about Dean Winchester's fate? He was a tool like any other in their plans. Like others had been before. Like moron Dean Winchester himself had been when it came to caging Lucifer. The boy was quite skilled at unknotting such messes. He was as reliable as a gun pointed to a target. Why was she so upset about?

She hit him. The first blow wasn't hard compared to the punishment Crowley was used to, but he realized she had put all her human strength behind it. She kept punching and he let her, even when his nose broke and his lip split. He let her scrape her knuckles against his teeth. Let her smash her delicate hands against his cheekbones and his jaw. He was enduring the onslaught because he had to find out the reason behind this wildly uncharacteristic behaviour. He put a stop to it only when he felt her gather her grace. He caught her wrists and snapped the magic manacles on. Granted, he had manufactured them with more playful reasons in mind, but they were nonetheless adept of restraining her grace.

"Naomi, talk to me!" he commanded pushing her against the wall.

He almost wished that it was part of another game, a scheme of hers to make him punish her. The King did not wish for things. Nor did he waste time on deluding himself. Something was definitely wrong with Naomi. Just to cover the possibility, he told her.

"Say the safeword, and I'll let you out of the manacles."

She looked at him with murder in her eyes. They were clearly outside the confines of their games. So the damn manacles better stay the hell on until he sorted out what rattled her.

"Okay, we're not playing. Tell me what's wrong? Why are you acting like this?"

"I'll have to kill you for this," she said.

She sounded calm and serious. It annoyed him.

"WHY?" he yelled.

"Because, you stupid, ignorant, self serving bastard, you don't know the price of carrying the Mark!"

"Why the fuck do you care?" he yelled back at her. "What does one more human count when it comes to taking out a Knight of Hell?!"

He watched her start to shout back at him and swallow the words at the last moment. Had the moment not been tensed, he would've found it amusing. Her, gulping like a gold fish.

She crumpled, slumped against the wall, the fire put out by tears. She closed her eyes, but the tears spilled out, streamed down her cheeks fast, their weight pulling them down fast. He felt the drops on his hands. They burned into his skin like acid, removing small patches of skin. To have this effect on him, the tears had to be caused by a great deal of pain.

Crowley wished he could torture the truth out of her. It would be far more entertaining than the other way. But the other way was more likely to yield results. So, he put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, smearing her hair with the blood coming from his ruined face. Naomi started crying in earnest, and Crowley held her, enduring the pain that came as her tears slowly dissolve portions of his skin.

"I'm sorry," he said and almost meant it although he didn't know what he had done to hurt her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry," he kept saying, rocking her gently.

After a while, her sobs subsided. She disentangled herself from his embrace and he removed the manacles without a word. She looked so despondent that Crowley worried that he might have done something irreparable. She wiped her face and went to the table, starting to gather the papers scattered during their earlier fun session.

"Naomi?"

She didn't react in any way. In a matter of seconds all the manuscripts were stacked up neatly in the middle of the table.

"You can't not tell me! You said you'll have to kill me for this. I have to know what "this" this is!"

"I was stupid. I thought you could use the First Blade yourself, not drag a human into this."

"Naomi!"

The tone was severe now. She was lying to him! Or at least she wasn't telling him everything which amounted to the same thing. Of course he wouldn't accept that as an explanation for her outburst. She turned to look at him. The desperation in her eyes frightened him. And the words that followed shook him to the core.

"Of all the humans, you did this to one of my boys."