Chapter Text
The distinct reek of sulfur hung heavily in the smoke-devoured sky, mingling itself within the reek of charred flesh,fresh blood, and the broken pleas of the damned souls emitting from the direction of the infamous Rack. Occassionally, a hideous snarl would echo from afar, a hell hound bathing in torn flesh and spilled blood, returning victorious from it's latest hunt. And, if you listened very close, legend has it that you could detect the slighted noises from way down below, Lucifer's vengeful roar that would eternally haunt his former kingdom.
Crowley took it all in, scoring his gleaming crimson eyes over his beloved rule,dark pride lapping it's shallow flames at his cold, undead heart. After all, Hell was his. Not Lillith or Abaddon's, may the Hell Bitches rest in pieces, not even Lucifer could re-claim his Throne, forever trapped in his own Cage in the most sinister corners of the Pit. It was his, and his alone.
The quiet drawl of foot-steps echoed from behind him, the sound that would go undetected by many, but not him. The horrific screams and shrieks had simply become a familiarity to him after centuries of torture and mayhem, like the music that would play in the background of a movie. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-hearted smirk as he greeted his visitor. ''Squirrel, how lovely of you to join me down here. Found your way around alright, I presume?"
The newly-raised Knight of Hell stood straight, muscles taut with tension, a glare etched across his features. ''What do you want, Crowley?"Dean growled, ignoring the question entirely.
The Knight's voice, deep and gravelly, so unlike when he was human,sent pleasurable chills down the King's spine. When the former hunter had been resurrected from his grave as a demon it had sent many new emotions rushing through Crowley's veins. Becoming a Knight of Hell had completely twisted Dean's personality around, metaphorically smashing his Morale Compass into a million pieces of shattered glass, glass that people had tended to frequently be cut on. He had no regard for human lives, willing to tear his way through an entire barful of people, as he had done on more than one occassion. After all, he was now one of Hell's darkest and evil perversions, one of Lucifer's most powerful weapons.
''Can't a lad just want to see his bestie?"Crowley questioned the Knight, his Knight, he corrected himself. Yes, Dean was his, even if the Winchester didn't know it, as he soon would. The new-born demon glared daggers at him, Crowley could see his true forms tail lashing in annoyance, whipping back and forth between two sheets of blood-spattered brimstone. The former hunter's new form was truely a breath-taking sight to behold. Two massive horns spiralled from his head, twisting outwards as they tapered off,while two smaller ones jutted out from his hairline. A dagger-pointed tail, jagged and lethal sprouting off from his tailbone, and to top it all off, two massive sails of burgundy and black leather stretched over the ashen bone, two large spikes jutting distinctly from the top of each. To most, he would be terrifying. To Crowley, he was glorious.
''Fuck you,''Dean grumbled, preparing to turn back around, his fingers tightening slightly on the hilt of the First Blade, sharp black claws scraping quietly against the worn leather.
Crowley's face creased into a frown and called out, having a hard time to keep the annoyance and unintentional lust out of his tone. ''Moose and Feathers are getting closer.''
Dean's black-clad shoulders went rigid, wings and tail stiff as a board. After a few moments, the tail twitched slightly. ''And?''he said, still not turning around to face the King.
''We'll have to move out sooner or later.'' Crowley couldn't help but trail his hungry gaze over his Knight's features while he wasn't aware.
Dean let out a sharp bout of laughter. ''No, I think it's time my brother and I had a little chat.'' Once again, his grip tightened on the blade, the mark humming loudly on his forearm, anticipating the mass bloodshed to come.
''And the Angel?"Crowley reminded him, shivers racing up his spine from the Knight's chilling words.
''If he gets in the way, I'll deal with him too. Haven't killed an angel in a while, anyways.''
Unease bubbled at Crowley's core, but he shrugged it off, replacing it with a small, encouraging smile. ''Go for it. Take a howl at that moon.''
Dean's mouth twisted into a cruel smirk. ''Oh, I plan on it.'' With that, the Knight disappeared in a cloud of smoke and sulfur that quickly disipated into the background of Hell, leaving the King alone once again.
Crowley felt an uneasy mixture of feelings bubbling in his gut, but he shook it off. The Mark had to be sated, did it really matter who Dean took it out on? But still, Crowley couldn't help the guilt twisting uncomfortably in his gut. He sighed, and pulled out his phone, an actual one, not some black magic blood spell that most demons tended to use when serving time in the Pit. He was the King, of course he would have his own WiFi provider down here. Going to his admittedly short list of contacts, he tapped once on the name Moose as it displayed on the screen. Of course, it went to voice mail, the Sasquatch spent most of his time nowadays tracking down his newly demonized brother. This had ought to be one of his most stupid ideas, but call him sentimental, he didn't want to see the over-sized hunter be brutally slain, at least not yet.
''Moose, it's Crowley. Isn't it lovely to hear my voice again? Yes, I'm aware that the last time we spoke you threatened to kill me dead, quote, unquote, amazing use of grammar by the way, but it has come to my attention that you may not be on the map for much longer, if you catch my drift. Let's just say, your brother isn't the same as you remember him and he will more than likely rip your bloody head off with his bare hands, so if you value your own life, I suggest you get out of the country, or you may not live to see another day. Alright? Toodles.''With that, the King pressed the hangup button and fled back to his own chamber.
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Sam almost screamed in frustration as he slammed yet another demonology book down on the wooden table in the bunker. Not one thing in there even mentioned the Knights of Hell or the Mark of Cain.
''Damn it...''Sam muttered under his breath, grabbing for his half-empty glass of whiskey he had left on the table. He couldn't exactly deny that he had been drinking much larger quantities than he had been accustomed to in the past, but then the last few months hadn't exactly been easy on him either, he thought as he downed the last of the contents from the antique tumbler. He slid his gaze over to the rest of the bottle, which was resting near Sam's elbow, the contents nearly already consumed. Sam let out a dark chuckle. ''Why am I wasting my time by pouring a drink? It'll all be gone by morning anyways...''He began to reach for the glass bottle, when he hesitated, letting out another liquor-induced bout of laughter.
''You know, I always told you not to drink so much,''Sam muttered, settling back into the wooden chair, liquor bottle now forgotten. ''That it was bad for your health. Hunters already have an early expiry date, why rush into it with liver failure? But then, did it really matter in the end?''Sam's voice grew louder, sharper, as his glazed hazel eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. ''No, it didn't. Because you had to be a fucking idiot and rush into a battle that you already knew you couldn't win! You went on a suicide mission to run from your problems, just like you always do, when you could have just as easily have faced them. Together-with me! That's what we do, isn't it? Work together, fighting the good fight? As brothers? But instead you were a stupid son of a bitch and got yourself killed! And now...now I don't even know what you are anymore, but that...that was not my brother that I spoke to today. And now, I don't have a damn clue how to save you! It's always me that goes off the rails, and you always manage to pull me back from the edge. But now, when it's my turn, I have no fucking idea what to do!'' A loud smash broke Sam out of his rage-driven trance. The glass that he had been holding had been thrown against the nearest wall, thousands of fractured slivers of glass scattered across the bunker floor. Sam was gasping for breath now, not even bothering to blink away the wetness that had gathered in his eyes. ''Dammit Dean, what am I supposed to do?"