Chapter 2: Can't Get Enough of Me, Can You?

A few days after my successful looting in Carla's Jewelry, I decided to go out and celebrate—and by celebrate, I mean go to a club specifically made for thieves. Yes, they exist! You just don't know about them because you're not a thief. Well, if you are one, and you don't know, then you are very much of a loner, am I right? Although, it seems like we've become a bit too relaxed and let our trails become a bit sloppy.

It's just your usual club with a bar and some dancing, but mostly with business transactions. We trade and buy all of our precious possessions. For me, I had a lovely but rude young woman who was interested in what I stole. I'm not saying I purposefully stole it before her in order to offer it to her for a large amount of money; I'm just saying that I happened to find it first, and she'd be interested in it.

Once I found the woman sitting at a table alone, looking down at a journal of some sort, I sat down across from her and greeted, "Bela, my dear." I gave the woman a mocking smile.

"Hello, Crowley," she grimaced when she heard my voice and looked up. "I was hoping it would be someone else sitting there," she admitted with that attitude that I don't really appreciate.

"No, no, not today—you definitely do want me here, right in front of you," a devilish grin appeared o my face. "You just don't know it yet."

"Oh?" she retorted, a curious look on her face, but still keeping her guard up, "And why might that be?" she put a hand up to her chin and rested it there.

"I have something you want," I stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Oh, how could you possibly, you no good for—"

"Ah-ah-ah," I interrupted her, wagging my finger with each syllable, my voice almost in a sing-song tune, "You don't want to insult the person who has a good deal for you."

Silence. Good. Her eyes were attentive as they tried to pierce through mine.

I patted the table in front of me with both hands and leaned forward, whispering, "I have that necklace that you've been searching so thoroughly for—yes, that priceless, diamond necklace. What is its name again? Oh, the Halo, am I right?"

Her breath hitched. "You weren't supposed to know about that," she hissed silently as she leaned forward as well. She looked like she was going to try to kill me. How adorable. (Note the sarcasm there).

"The 'not supposed to' is what we all do, honey," I clicked my tongue against my teeth as I shrugged slightly in an "oh well" manner. "I just happen to be very smart and followed your tracks easily. They don't call me the 'Thief of Hell' for nothing." I eyed her; she was ready to scratch my eyes out, but she had composure, I'll give her that.

"How did you get it?" she asked through gritted teeth and tightened facial muscles.

"It doesn't matter how I did; it matters if you will. Why don't you just listen to what I've got to say?" I reached into one of my pockets to pull out a scrap piece of paper and a pen to write with. She fidgeted in her seat as she tried to not make any type of commotion. It was a lot of fun watching her struggle under my metaphorical grip. She's given me such trouble that she deserves some of her own, don't you agree? Please, don't try to act all self-righteous—we always, at some point, want revenge on someone, darling. Admit it. Oh, but I am veering away from the subject!

"This priceless necklace for this much," I wrote a large amount of money on the paper and passed it over to her. When she tried to object, I reminded her that she would probably make tons more than that, were she to accept my offer.

"Putting a price on a priceless object," Bela scoffed.

"You are planning on doing the same, love," I snickered.

She sighed. "Fair enough," was her reply. She started to search through her wallet for the money, but then paused, a spark of distrust found in her eyes. "Not until you show it to me and let me examine it. Don't want it to be a fake."

"Now, darling, you mistrust me? How offending!" I faked to have been hurt, "All right, all right. But no touching. You tend to have sticky fingers. Things that touch you don't ever see the light of day ever again." I took out the necklace and unwrapped it from the tissue paper I enclosed it in. "Here. See? I even took the paper that talks about this necklace being stolen. Of course they won't admit it's priceless in the papers—that would be very unwise. But look at the pictures. You will know." I slapped the newspaper onto the table for her to see.

She reluctantly looked at the paper, reading the article for a bit, and studying the pictures. She then looked over at the necklace I was holding right in front of her, and I could tell she starved for it just like a fish starves for its pieces of garbage being thrown into its bowl. How pathetic. Still, pathetic is what's giving me money; you don't hear me complaining.

"Okay, you're right. It can only be this one. A replica would be almost impossible, and if possible, it would look so fake that it would break with one look of the eye," I could see that she felt the wave of defeat overcome her as she looked up at me angrily. She handed me the money, and I made sure to count it all before I handed her the necklace. Once I was certain that this money was real and correct, I slid it across from the table and she clutched it desperately, hiding it quickly in her outrageously large purse.

"Is that all?" she asked coldly.

"Yes, ma'am, that is all," I smiled at her, quickly sliding off of my seat and taking off from the table after stuffing the money into my inner jacket pocket. I simply despise the woman, but I can't keep myself from dealing with her if it results in big money.

As soon as I made my way to the bar, there was a shout at the front of the club, and a commotion started at the door. "What the hell—"

Sirens. Lots of them.

Well, shite! The cops? What are they doing here? I thought to myself. I had never heard of the police finding any of our bars—and, of course, there is always a first to everything, but it was still shocking nonetheless.

Bela was, of course, nowhere to be seen. She is a quick little bitch who knows how to stay out of trouble's way when it comes knocking on her door. There was too much going on that I couldn't find my way out of the crowd. I was literally pinned shoulder-to-shoulder in the meddling mess of people. Cops were spewing in from all over the place, and I cursed under my breath while I tried to squeeze my way out.

After succeeding to get out of the suffocation zone, I heard a voice yell at me: "Stop it right there!"

Being the gentleman I am, I raised my hands up in the air.

"Turn around so I can see you!" the voice sounded a bit uneasy. Well, yes, in this type of commotion, maybe—but seriously, most thieves don't go killing off people when they are found out. They are smarter than that.

I turned around with an apologetic look on my face. "Oops, I did it again," I spoke out loud when I realized whom I was staring at. "Hello, again," I smiled casually.

"I—What. You?!" There we go! The oh-so-familiar growling and rasping voice greeted me. "What in the world are you doing here?" he yelled over the sounds of the crowd. Time seemed to freeze around us—almost like in a romance movie, isn't that right?—while I just stared at the astonished look on his face.

"I think it is quite obvious why, sweet Officer Castiel," I raised my eyebrows, with a satisfied look on my face. Watching his entire body sway from the realization that he let the thief go away the other day was really delightful, really. His muscles were tense, and he looked like he was going to faint; though, he quickly regained his control.

"Come right over h-here, Crowley," he ordered, gesturing towards him.

"Now, now, Castiel, hearing you bark orders at me with that voice and saying my name? It gives me goose bumps!" I kept on grinning while I willingly walked over to him, just as he ordered.

"This is not something to joke about," he replied, his face flushing as he obviously didn't know how to react to a person as charming as me.

"Oh, I'm not joking," I raised one eyebrow at him. He was taller than me, but I felt as if he was almost four feet smaller than me. What can I say? I have a huge personality.

"Just give me your hands so I can cuff you," he tried to ignore my irresistible attempts. Unsuccessfully, I might add. Either way, though, I followed his orders, putting my hands behind my back. What, I'm a thief, but I have some decency. And, well, some plans in my head, too; but that's besides the point!

We left the bar, leaving the other cops who were trying to get a hand on at least one thief, but most of them not succeeding. Many of my fellow acquaintances stopped to look at me, most smirking, for they knew that I would not give up easily. I am, after all, the Thief of Hell.

Just when we were alone and approaching Castiel's police car, I decided to strike up some conversation. "So, how did you all find this place, sweetie?"

"We are not in a situation to be talking right now. You are the one who stole the necklace the other day and I let you go. I think it is better that you and I don't speak," he replied, his entire face red from embarrassment. I couldn't blame him for letting me go, though—I was only a charming lad who happened to be at the mall at a strange time. Nothing else suspicious.

"Oh, but we had such a nice chat that other day," I almost whined. He opened the back door of his car and allowed me to go in myself. I commented on how he was a gentleman—a gorgeous one, at that—and he asked me to stop talking. Can you believe that? The poor boy was asking me to do something. I still don't understand how he got into the police business, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't glad he did, because that led me to meeting him.

While he drove me to the police station, he was completely quiet. I also had just noticed that he was actually wearing a hat that time. I tried to bring up some casual conversations, but he didn't seem very conversational. He did, though, every so often look behind him, and I would smile at him. He would quickly turn back to watch where he was going, but I could tell the hairs on the back of his neck were sticking up, and I could see goose bumps forming all over.

Good to know that he got that impression from me. I wouldn't want it in any other way, honestly—now would I, darlings?