#crowleypov

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: Then You’ll Be Sorry

—

Ten years was not typically a long time for him. It was a bat of an eye, or a few days vacation topside, or even just a blip on the overall radar of his existence thus far. Not as short as some other demons perspective of the time, and no where near as long as a silly little human’s perspective of it.

But dealing with her? The decade since he’d nabbed her from the rack had been almost an eon for him.

“What is all this, Jo?” Crowley found himself growling in distaste the moment he entered the woman’s room - when did he start thinking of it as her’s and not his, he didn’t know for sure but there was no way he wanted it back in it’s current condition. “You have a count to three to explain why there are streamers all over these hallowed walls.”

“Well, ya see,” The blonde span about on the ladder she was standing on, pressing the end of a string of fairly lights into the walls of the room with what looked to be an iron nail - and how in Hell did the little human manage to get a hold of iron in Hell? Crowley was going to have to begin doing more thorough inspections of what she got up to and whom she spoke to at this rate - before tugging and pulling the lights into place. There was a mischievous and devious look on her face as she looked down the ladder at him that would have filled him with dread if he hadn’t grown accustomed to her flights of fancy over the last decade. “Tems thought I should throw a little party, you know.”

“This is Tems idea?” He didn’t stop the incredulous look upon his face from growing even as he waved a hand to steady the ladder for the girl with his powers as she slowly clambered down. As she drew the ladder away, Crowley wished he had a drink in his hand. “And what exactly was this party for, darling?”

“It’s been ten years since you finally came to my calls and decided to save your hide!” Joanna’s face was a slightly redder tone than normal, the only part of that smug, shit-eating-grin upon her face that seemed to be out of place. As she moved down and around the room, the fairy lights she seemingly had covered over the ceiling caught the light on the crystals of her dress, the one and only thing that seemed in place from the wardrobe he had so carefully curated for her over the years after one too many fights about the assault on his eyes that were her flannel choices. “So Tems thought I should celebrate, given it is such an unusual occasion for someone to get off the rack early, after all.”

Crowley definitely needed a drink for this. He could feel a headache beginning at the corners of his mind just thinking about it. It couldn’t have only been ten years with the nightmare that was now bouncing around the room from wall to wall, over the settee and around the bookshelves. Had to have been longer, he was certain of it.

Pouring out a glass, his glass in the glasses he’d always kept in this room felt strangely rhythmic the way that they were never moved in all of her changes, of his Craig, Crowley let out a loud groan as he watched the blonde jumping about the place in a flow of grey and red chiffon.

She was up that ladder again, this time trying to hang a band of pink peony flowers - again, where was she getting these things? - along the top of the bookshelf. He could spot other clumps of them about the rest of the room, a vase full on almost every flat surface and wreaths and bands of them atop each other high surface like the other bookshelves and the canopy of her four-poster bed. Jo was reaching precariously as she flung the corner of the band on the final shelf. “So us gals were goin’ to hang out a little - I made sure to cross both of ‘em off of your schedule for the rest of the week, so you can stop your poutin’, and added that fool Declan in instead so maybe you could have some fun rakin’ him over some hot coals-“

"How many times must I tell you, you do not have the right to change the schedule of-”

“Maybe I’d believe it if I didn’t write half ya fuckin’ schedules for you anyways, hmm?”

“If I had it my way, you’d be strapped up on some rig with some demon working you over right now, Joanna.”

“And yet I remain unaffected!” The blonde chirped back cheerfully to his darkly growled words.

It drove Crowley mad that no matter how crass or disturbing his threats were that she would let them wash off of her like water off a ducks back. It was to do with power, and it drove the King of the Crossroads, and one time King Of Everything, round the bend that he did not often hold it where the pretty hunter was concerned.

“Regardless of that, whom is it you have so deigned to reorganize my schedule regarding, dear?” Crowley asked as he sank into his chair and watched the blonde bounding about the room like the overly energetic monster she was. “I am assuming this includes my best demon given it was her suggestion, correct?”

“And your other up-and-comer too.” Jo replied as she fussed with a section of flowers on the desk near the drinks trolley with what seemed anxious energy. He had not seen her this fazed since the time he’d spotted that wine-guzzling bastard accompanying her through the halls last year but that had been an entirely different energy than was filling the room now. “Bela and Tems, and I think I heard that Ruby’d made a jaunt down here if you promise not to try and side track her.”

“Ruby? Really?”

“You better not still be holdin’ shit against her right now-”

“You do not dictate what I do or do not do in my domain, Jo. I may be kind enough to give you some leniency due to your particular circumstances,” Crowley snarled the words back at her, fingers drumming against the crystal as he flicked his other fingers up throwing the girl back against the nearest wall like a rag doll. The glare he got in response was in no way different to the looks of distaste he was used to from the other whenever such acts had happened before. “However this may come as a shock to you - but you are not in control here.”

There was a scoffing sound from the blonde that crawled under his skin as he stood from the chair and moved towards her. Jo’s head was tilted away from him but there was that annoyingly cocky smirk on her face he knew too well and he could feel the heat rising inside him, the desire to wipe that look from her pretty face boiling up.

As the girl opened her mouth to talk, the demon found himself waving his hand again - silencing her and wiping that blasted look off her face as well. At the same moment, every flower in the room set alight burning and smoking around the confined space. There were flames crawling across the walls from the shelves and licking at the lace canopy of the bed. Flaming, charred petals fell down upon the coffee table and desk, as the smell of smoke began to fill the space as the fairylights flickered on and off in the surge of power. If there was the scent of burning flesh as well, it would smell like the pits again.

“Now that I’ve taken care of those tacky flowers-”

“Phurhknuu!” Crowley felt his own smirk form in return at the sour look upon the girl’s face.

“Sorry, Joanna, couldn’t quite understand that, want to try again?” The demon found himself laughing at the snarl he got in response, moving towards the other. Her jaw was jutted out stubbornly however, and Crowley approached slowly before gripping tight on her offending chin. “As I was saying, those have been taken care of, and now-” There was a wave of his other hand before the chalice appeared from the desk in his hand. A swirl of the thick red blood and the next moment the voice of his assistant bubbled out. “Lola, be a dear and schedule both the lovely Tems and Bela for the next three months.”

There was a strangled noise of disagreement from the blonde, but he simply slid his hand up over her mouth, smearing the red lipstick up as he twisted the skin lightly, as the other demon’s voice simpered out, “Of course, your Lola will organize this right away.”

“And dear, if they disagree - it will be retraining with the hounds for the next year.” That got a surprised noise through the thick blood as well as a hissed noise from beneath his hand. Crowley could see the displeasure building on the blonde’s face as he waited for the “Yessir” before throwing it away - blood splashing upon the opposite wall as the chalice clattered to the floor. “Now, have you learnt who’s in control here yet, Joanna?”

The blonde snarled back, and snapped her teeth out at his fingers before she seemed to realise he’d returned her voice back. “Oh fuck you, Crowley!” Joanna hissed, scowl firmly on her face.

“That doesn’t sound like you’ve learnt anything yet, dear.”

“Shove it up your ass, you dick.”

“Still doesn’t sound like it-”

“You can’t fuckin’ control me like this you asshole. I’m not one of your fuckin’ demons to push around, Crowley,” The hunter snarled the words out at him, and from the corner of his eye he could see her hands twitching to pull back from the wall and reach for him. Probably to take a swing, that was always her first point of call, but was unable to move more than an inch from the wall. “You’re not my fuckin’ husband, and you ain’t my fuckin’ dad! You can’t control me like this!”

“You’re right, little Joanna. I’m not your daddy or your husband, darling,” Crowley moved his hand along her jawline to tug her head upwards by her hair, fisted at the nape of her neck with a harsh jerk. He could still see the defiance flashing deeply in her eyes and smirking back, the demon felt that heated anger boiling up again. “But I am your King, and you will learn to treat me as such.”

---

“And exactly what is it?” The words were somewhat hissed out, a bite behind their meaning clear as Jo shuffled her feet awkwardly.

“Why, dear, it’s my newest find.” The host replied, the hand not currently holding his typical glass wrapping around her bare shoulder with a tighter grip than she was used to. It was something she had noticed about the demon - when he spotted something that interested him or he thought held worth, he would hold onto it for it’s worth - and Jo felt the uncomfortable nature of having suddenly been dragged into something settle heavily into her stomach. She had spent time over the last few years with the older demon, usually playing card games or chess where in the game was more metaphorical than real as the Prince tried to worm out of her her secrets or as he would sometimes say ‘hidden value’; but never had the times she’d been invited to his quarters had it been ever more than the two of them and the two dark shadow demons that followed his command. “I found her a few years back, just wandering the halls would you believe? A little soul freely walking the halls of Hell.”

“Interesting, I’d not heard we had a vermin problem lately. Perhaps someone should get onto that.” Jo’s eyes darted across to the demon that spoke as she was coralled into the room further by the hand on her shoulder, quickly running an evaluating look over the other as her hunter skills kicked in to assess the situation she now found herself. The dark skinned demon held himself in a way that set her hackles up already, as he sat back calmly on one end of a lavish leather couch - one arm spread across the back cushions while the other stacked and restacked five golden coins upon the arm rest beside him. “Can’t have too many scurrying about like cockroaches unchecked.”

“You think I’d find something there are multiples of, Mammon?”

“I think you over estimate the worth of.. it.”

“It has a name, you know.” Jo found herself snapping back, arms crossing under her chest, without meaning to. She was supposed to stand back and observe, maybe make informed choices of when to interact after getting the lay of the land, but somehow thirteen years in Hell had yet to ingrain any patience in her.

“And it also speaks.” The tall, elder looking demon that had been hanging about near the so-called Mammon cut in over her as she’d opened her mouth to respond, a sardonic twist to his lips. “Does it do any other tricks, Vassago? Have you toilet trained it? Taught it to sit on command? Pouring your wine for you?”

“That would be the one thing he would desire from a little pet, isn’t it?” The only other woman in the room spoke, breezing past Jo with an elegance that made her want to beg the woman for lessons in how to make her own dresses flow like there was a windmachine following her around. The woman stopped momentarily to pin the greying demon with a somewhat icy look at the scoffed noise she had gotten in response. “Where did you go and pluck this one out from now, you old thief?”

“I told you, Gremory, found her wandering the halls around here.”

“And exactly what was a human soul doing wandering the halls and not over in the pit then?”

“That’s the real mystery, dear. Such a valuable little thing to have gotten out before turning, wouldn’t you say?”

“It is unusual.” Mammon answered sharply, his dark eyes raking over her with a speculative look. “Tell it to answer.”

“Again, I’ve got a fuckin’ name, you know.”

“That’s not relevant, roach. Now, how come you are not still in Lilith’s playpen?”

“My name is Jo Harvelle.” Jo found herself shrugging her shoulder and freeing herself from the grip on her arm, and if she’d bothered to look would have noticed the almost bemused smirk on the older demon’s face as she stalked towards the one speaking to her. She thought she recognised the name - not much to do in Hell but read and learn, and when she got back to Earth, she sure as heck was going to be the best demon hunter the world had ever seen after all those books Crowley and Vassago alike allowed her access to - and found herself pursing her lips as she approached the demon. “And if you want to know anythin’ about me - then you’re goin’ to have to address me correctly, you poncey bastard.”

Next second she was on the ground, face smushed to the mahogany floorboards that made up the flooring in this description of Hell. Vassago had decked the space out to his taste it seemed - or rather, Jo thought, he had barely lifted a finger given how her room had looked when she’d taken it over from Crowley in the first place - and now she was getting an up close and personal view to the quality workmanship of the floors.

Tilting her head slightly, she could see the almost bemused look upon the demon who’s powers were flexed upon her crushing down like a ton of bricks on her chest as well as what she thought might have been an almost adoring look for a split second upon the stiff lipped British demon that was still standing behind him. Vassago crossed through her line of vision to take a seat on the arm chair nearest her between the coin-clinking demon and herself, before gesturing at the gorgeous older blonde woman to sit as well. The sheer lack of movement to assist or distract Mammon from his flexing made her grit her teeth, growling quietly to herself as the pressure grows while the demon smirks.

“Oh that is much better,” Gremory quipped as she sank into the chair beside the host, crossing her ankles right in front of Jo’s face that felt like too sharp a move to be accidental. “How do you put up with it’s insolence, Vassago?”

“Usually she is quite well behaved-”

“Oh like you know what that phrase means.”

“You still hold that against me, love?”

Jo could hear a sound she was sure was a loud sniff from the other woman, and found herself biting down on a snort of her own at the bickering between the two. At the very least it distracted her from the pain of the force pushing her ribs down hard over her knees where she was bent up and squashed to the floor still.

“Regardless of that, Mammon, if you could release my little trinket-” Hearing the demon finally speaking up - even if it was in such terms that would usually make Jo roll her eyes or snap back at the idea - the blonde couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as the pressure let up enough to allow her to sit up on her knees slightly more comfortably, though she was barely able to lift her head or shift from a disturbingly subserviently bowed position. Looking about, she caught the demon she’d grown to know’s eye carefully before receiving a tiny nod in response. “-Much appreciated. She definitely requires a little more training before I add her to the long term collection, wouldn’t you say?”

“I had thought you were thinking to replace your coldfish bed finally-”

“Not now, Naberius.”

“Oh? Don’t like the speculation that your old news, Gremory? I mean, the thing is a pretty little blonde like you used to inhabit, back in the day.” The British demon - Jo recognising the name as another Marquis from her reading, and from the look of it, quite a sourfaced one at that - replied as he cocked an eyebrow towards the glowering blonde demon. He moved almost catlike around to sit on the other end of the couch the Prince was occupying, and sat with what Jo thought was a little bit more show than the move needed - like a bird settling into a nest and ruffling it’s feathers far too much before settling. “Perhaps that is what it is doing off of the rack. You did say halls, right Vassago?” The demon waited for a knowing nod from the now smirking Prince, before adding cruelly. “If it were these halls, then clearly Lucky the Leprechaun is resorting to the trash as well as the filth from next door.”

“What was that?” An Irish voice cut through the room, and Jo found herself turning her head towards the entryway to see two more demons’ legs entering the room with equally commanding strides. The voice was unfamiliar and she couldn’t recognise either demons’ styles as any of those she had crossed paths with in the years she had been in Hell. She tried to tilt her head to look through her hair at the pair but that was too hard an angle to achieve as her shoulders were still forcefully slumped forward and a weight still sat upon her neck. “Why must that fool be discussed every time we gather?”

“Careful there, Naberius, you wouldn’t want to infuriate your fellow Marquis would you?” The blonde demon responded after another haughty sounding sniff filled the room as Jo could see the two newcomers sink into the two spare armchairs across from what she thought was an old married couple from the little bickering she’d heard thus far. Gremory appeared to wave a hand before smirking and adding in a fake whisper. “If he thinks you’re talking about that little monster, he might not stay in the funny human form - might even suggest you boys take it outside like a real dog on bird fight.”

Jo felt a chill run down her spine at the words, goosepimples blooming on the bare skin of her back in an obvious fashion, as she caught a growl from the other side where the new arrivals were. Something about the suggestion, the wording, the concept of hearing anything about him made her push up harder again at the force still pressing against her with an audible groan. There was no other ‘little monster’ that was connected to Crowley, and that whoever had arrived had a connection to him - Jo’s stomach twisted sharply at the idea she might possibly be able to lay eyes finally upon the demon that had done the other so wrong so long ago - and clenching her hands into fists of the flowing skirts of the dress she wore that day and drawing blood on the crystals that were littering it.

“There now, friends, we should be better than such squabbles. Mammon, we’re supposed to be having a good time - not letting humans get under our skin,” The only familiar and even sometimes friendly voice cut through the tension as if to distract from the flickering starts of a fight, and as Vassago rose to his feet - Jo felt the pressure on her back lifting almost completely from her shoulders as he flung a hand wide. “Besides, what would it look like to let some little girl get any sort of reaction from such basic words?”

For her it was a long moment before she recovered from the struggling against the power forcing her downwards, to jerk into an up-righted kneeling position - eyes going straight to the two unknown men’s faces with the fury from that time surging through her. Neither were familiar, neither looked particularly interesting or like the vision she had had in her mind of the demon she planned to torture to the brink of insanity if she ever managed to locate and get her hands on them. One was a strikingly interesting looking man who was reclined in an armchair with what she thought was far too much style over substance from the look of him; while the other was a little rougher looking and was staring down the sneering woman rather than noticing anything else at that moment.

“There’s a human?” There was a thick accent to the new man nearest her’s voice as he spoke, something Scandinavian or European but she couldn’t work it out any clearer than that, as he turned his attention about the room as if searching for a sign. Jo bit down on the corner of her lip to stop from smiling at the theatrics now that the pressure was off of her neck and the coin-counter was determinedly keeping from looking at her as he had before. “Ah! There it is. What is another human doing off the racks?”

“Another?! I’ll have you know this one is a unique collectors item, Furfur-”

“I think not. I saw three of them just last year in old Lilith’s quarters-”

“You saw no such thing-!”

“Of course I did. Bit worse for wear than your own perhaps though.” The demon replied casually, shifting in his seat as he raised a brow across at the spluttering host with a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of his lips. Jo wasn’t sure if the name made sense to her, but she was sure he’d be listed somewhere when she got back to her room to read up on this next demon with a scowl. Next second, her scowl transformed into a look of shock as she looked towards the other newcomer as Furfur added, “You recall seeing them, don’t you Amon?”

“There’s not supposed to be humans running free in Hell,” The words were practically growled out from the Marquis as he tilted a head curiously across the space towards their host for the event. Jo could barely hear any of the words as the itch as to what had struck a chord with her about the demonness’ words clicked in her mind. Struggling to her feet immediately, a flush growing across her cheeks and neck at the fabric swishing and catching around her legs so unlike anything she knew the other had ever seen her in, the blonde felt slightly woozy as she stared straight at the demon she’d never seen without the black, thick fur. “What have you done to find this one, Vassago?”

“For the third time - she was brought here by that pompous joke of a demon Crowley, and I just thought to...”

“Liberate her for yourself?”

“Yes, thank you dear, perfect. I just thought to liberate her for my own collection of interesting items.”

“Why did he-” Amon’s words cut off immediately as Jo finally found her eyes meeting his dead on, a strange look upon the strange face shifting as the sole demon that truly knew her in the room finally noticed her. Her blush got deeper at the slight tilt of the Marquis’ head and the tiny crease that formed between his brows as he stared back at her. There was a long, tense and quiet moment, for her - though she was sure there was someone talking from the dull sounds of voices she could hear but not take in - before the demon jerked out of his chair sharply. “What is she doing here?”

“Does nobody listen to me when I speak?” The host’s voice held a tinge of frustration as he sank back into his armchair and if Jo had looked she would have seen him rubbing at his worn temples with a sigh. “What does it matter what she’s doing here? I’ve decided to keep her for now while I uncover why the girl got removed from the rack so early-”

“You mean you don’t know? I would think it was fairly clear what that fool took her for.” Gremory replied, twirling her own wine glass between one hand and gently swirling the contents. “Or has it been that long for you?”

“You know he’d never dare without your consent, Gremory.” The Dane’s words got a triumphant and smug look from the blonde, while the host sank deeper into his seat with a weary sigh.

“Why does it matter to the Marquis though what it is doing here-” Mammon’s voice cut over the other’s with the telltale clinking sound of his coins continuing to pile and stack over themselves. “Amon, what does it matter to you?” There was a pause as all five demon’s turned towards the now standing demon as he continued to pin Jo with a perplexed frown. “Amon, Marquis, what-”

“What are you doing here?” The man let out a wolfish growl as her stepped towards her, and Jo found herself stumbling back a step away from him as he approached, hands tugging and holding her hemline up just enough to avoid stepping on it as well as be prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. “Why aren’t you-”

“Demonic? Crowley likes his existence too much.” She found herself replying quietly as she took another two steps back at the approaching demon’s bulk, feeling very much as if she was staring down the monstrously sized wolf she was used to rather than just a rather tall man. There was a harsh growl in response to her words that had her stumbling back again, tripping over her skirts as she whispered out quietly, “I... I’m waitin’ for him-”

“Ah, ah, ah, Jo, don’t go sharing secrets I don’t want out.” The timing of the voice, laced with amusement was impeccable to always arrive at the worst possible time for her. Over the bulk of the Marquis’ shoulder, she could see the bemused smirk of the Scottish demon standing in the now open doorway to Vassago’s stolen domain. “Besides, I doubt the dog would be particularly interested in your tall tales.”

“I am very interested, actually.” The words were gritted out, and Jo couldn’t help but think the flash of fury across the demon’s face as Amon ran an eye over her again meant something may have been misinterpreted as he drew closer to her. “Since where does a Crossroads demon have the right to remove souls from the pit, Crowley?”

“Since now, Marquis.”

“The Leprechaun thinks he is above the heirachy it seems-” The cold tone from the couch came like a whip, Mammon’s eyes focussed upon the interloper with a disdainful look. “As if a little term from a group of cowards validates him in some way.”

“Perhaps he is still spreading for the first one after all?”

“Gremory, dear, you may have just struck on the truth-”

“Isn’t that the Marquis’ area of expertise?”

“True to that, Amon what say you? ...Amon?”

Jo barely heard a word of the bickering and snickering demons as she found herself staring up at the glaring seventh demon’s face as he stared her down. It felt like the concept of hell being hot and sweltering finally made sense under his glare, a trickle of sweat rolling down her open back as the blonde tried to restrain from blurting out all of the questions she had - how was he doing, what was he doing, where was he, why hadn’t he come for her yet.

“What are you doing here, how come you’re not turned yet?” Amon’s voice was exceptionally quiet under the sound of the bickering behind them, and Jo felt herself sucking in a breath as the demon’s yellow eyes flashed between her and where Crowley had moved another step into the room with a speculative look on his face. “What are you doing with him?”

“Crowley took me down for- I told him that Gre-”

“Don’t say his name.”

“I.. I’m waiting for him, and Crowley just.. took-”

“I saw an opportunity, Marquis,” The King of the Crossroads seemed to appear at her side, as if he had known immediately the pair left unobserved by the bantering demon group would talk and talk of something that Jo knew the other would not appreciate. She felt her implorying stare shifting into a furious glare as a hand spread across the bare skin at the base of her back, thumb rubbing almost possessively across her skin. “And little Joanna is a fantastic piece of ass, I mean entertainment in the mean time, isn’t that right darling?”

Jo opened her mouth to snap back at him, only to be interrupted by the sound of a barked laugh from the group behind them. “Oh Vassago, you really have been lying as much as myself, haven’t you?”

“I’ve no idea what you mean by such a claim.”

“Attempting to pass off Crowley’s flavor of the month as if it is anything special?” The Dane asked with the blankest of looks as he surveyed the glaring trio, eyes moving from Jo’s face to those of the demons on either side of her with a considering look. There was something a little too know in his face, and the way he quirked a brow up at the tall Irish-formed demon made Jo shudder, before slapping a hand out at the stroke of the fingers against the line of her dress after it. Furfur appeared to stare down the seventh demon as he spoke aloud to the group, “Perhaps that is the truth of all your so called finds though, Vassago. After all, how valuable can one really call an artwork by some little human who’s name no longer exists in the world, what is the worth of some jewel that can be recreated through science these days. What is the worth of some little girl that a known man-whore has taken on?”

There was the sound of a sigh, and Jo could feel her lips twisting at the familiarity of Vassago’s frustrated noise from the demon - he made it often enough when Jo would dance around or deny him an answer as to why she was removed from the rack, after all. “From what I have discovered, it’s more flavor of the decade than month, Furufr.”

“Really? You’ve kept to one for a decade, red-eyes? My my, perhaps you’ve gone native.” Naberius’ voice cracked out, and Jo could see the way Crowley’s eyes flashed for the briefest second to their black depths in reaction to the call, before the other added sharply. “And such a dull choice of one from the look of it.”

“Oh that is it!” Jo snapped out sharply at that comment. Shaking her head though, Jo gave her own sigh before jerking away from the grip of the Crossroads King and tall wolfish demon. “You know what? It’s really not necessary my bein’ here for you all to speculate upon my existence.” Shaking her head again and brushing past the demons near her, she barely restrained herself from stomping a foot as she looked at the Danish demon with a scowl. “I am not a flavor or anythin’ like that, I am not dull or boring, and I am not a trinket, a cockroach or a plaything. What I am is sick of you all.” As she hissed the words out, Jo found herself turning her gaze to each of the assembled and sitting demon lords, as if her words would have any impact or anything but trouble for speaking up.

There was a short second, before Jo found herself struggling for breath as if a force grabbed her around the ribs tightly and was beginning to boil her from the inside, and the next moment she was standing in the centre of her own room as Crowley moved to pour himself a drink from his drink cart.

“Wha-”

“What happened?” The other asked, swirling the brown liquid in his glass with a small smirk. “What happened was you were about to be obliterated by one, or maybe it was more than one, of those elitist fools, darling. You almost got yourself splattered across my walls and I would hate to have to put you back together again, Jo.”

Jo found herself gaping for a moment before she moved to sink down in the seat beside the other with a sigh. She’d not gone there expecting anything that day - Vassago had said something about his wife being around and wanting to show Jo off to her, but she did not expect the sheer number of demons, the sheer power that would fill he room, and especially not the wolf-in-human-clothing to be there.

There was a quiet moment as Crowley sipped his drink, before she grabbed the glass from his hands and polished off the liquor herself with a hiss - thinking over how strange it was to feel more comfortable with the King of the Crossroads than with his best demon friend.

---

[fightevilandthengetblownup]

FIC: For Her, I’ll Cross Over

The last thing she remembered was stumbling into her hotel room that night, hand pressed tightly across her stomach where the slice of a werewolves claws had caught and torn deep as she’d driven her last resort knife, her bullets spent as it had charged her, into it’s heart.

She’d made it to her bed and began bandaging the wound, and then the next minute it was morning and there was a knocking on her hotel door. She had approached and there was a dark haired woman outside, she’d said she was a friend of Dean’s and that Jo needed to come with her. She’d not even had time to think about the fact her stomach didn’t hurt and that she didn’t know the woman before there was a nod of her head and then she was there.

There was screaming, endless haunting screaming from all around but she could never turn her head enough to see where or who it was coming from. There were flashes of light that burnt her eyes to look into that seemed to radiate heat and pain and promise torment should it ever come down upon herself. There was laughter - some cold and cruel, some somehow familiar, and some the desperate crying laughter she knew could only come from the end of one’s rope when the pain became to much and all there was left was to laugh or cry or scream - but that hurt her ears as much as the screaming.

And then it began for her, right as Jo realized what had happened and where she was, and continued for endless hours and days.

She felt the skin torn, peeled, melted and carved from her very form. She felt every nerve ending be set alight and screaming for torturous moments, and she likewise felt every nerve ending suddenly disconnected leaving her in a void of unfeeling. She felt her muscles cut apart and her innards pulled and twisted and played with by the cruel hands that worked at her. She felt her voice screaming but the sounds bled into the voices around her much the same as all the other souls crying out in pain, anguish and damnation.

Except her screams were always of a single name.

—

“What is with these pathetic humans and that fucking series?” “I don’t know. It’s been increasing these last few decades hasn’t it? Always wanting the nice demon.” “Some television adaption or something-” “I thought those red-eyed bitches already cashed in on that fucking Pratchett guy?” “Pretty sure it’s Gaiman this time - about time they got around to taking him out too.” “Heard he keeps getting extensions for some reason-” “Fucking Brits. Fucking Crowley.”

The voices echoed along the hallway and the sheer snarls had been growing and growing, making him a little more and more cocky each time there was word of a sniveling crying soul looking to him of all people for salvation. There was power in choosing the name he had, in inspiring the works of those he had and leaving a lasting impression once upon a time. And now he was reaping his rewards and the smugness at collecting so many more new arrivals willing and ready to flash red for him.

Crowley made a sharp turn at the next corridor as the voices had grown closer, and threw his hands in a showy flair of cockiness and greeting out as he stepped around the edge.

“Are my ears burning, or is some talking about yours truly?” He said, smirk firmly in place on his face as Crowley spotted the group of three fellow black eyed demons hovering in his domain. It was not often that they lurked here, but Crowley knew that his own section of Hell was somewhat more pleasant for some than the earsplitting screams and crying. Not to all however, but even a torturer needed a lunch break some days. “What’s the matter - not enjoying your little games crying out for the best Hell has to offer?”

“Oh fuck you, Crowley. Your work with Pratchett is driving us insane.” One of the demons responded, a beautiful brunette but somewhat hideous underneath - clearly entering their first thousand year mark wielding the knife - rolling her eyes at the King of the Crossroads with the level of arrogance he would quickly rectify.

“Is that so?” The words rolled off of his tongue as he flicked a finger and the brunette was thrown harshly against the walls of his domain with barely a thought. Turning his eyes to the other two - one red headed man that had spoken in a Russian accent that even a few thousand years in Hell couldn’t erase unfortunately, and a short balding man that dressed in a suit even Crowley would be proud to wear - he raised a brow at them before gesturing with his hand for them to continue.

The pair exchanged a look before the Russian replied thickly, “Well there’s been plenty of them after you lately, but there is this one-” “Fucking beauty, too-” “That is true. One soul just screams not a stop.”

“Really? And hearing my name that much is cause for your anguish?” Crowley let out a small laugh as he shook his head, his hand closing tightly as he exerted a small bit of energy to guide the very walls of his domain to crush in against the wriggling, crying brunette woman while he continued to pin the other’s with a sharp look. “Wish she was screaming your own?”

“In that body? Lucifer please.” The balding one spoke this time, a feral and disgusting grin on his face as he watched his partner being crushed into the very fabric of the walls of this reality. “What I wouldn’t give for it to be mine, I got to work her over three weeks straight and all she’d do is call your name out, fucking laugh and some gibberish about ‘just you wait ‘til he gets here’. Like you’re some god to be summoned.”

The words sounded hollow and bitter, and the next moment Crowley had waved his hand and set the insolent demon aflame. He watched on, the tiniest flicker of annoyance that such a fine suit was gone into the ether, before he turned back to the last remaining demon.

“Now, finish where your friend failed - what is this little soul on about?” He snapped the words out, raising his hand and crushing his fist a little as the walls melded and forced themselves around the screaming brunette. Behind the Russian, Crowley could see the curious eyes of some of his own workers peeking out from various doors or the adjoining hallways before disappearing at the sight of their King. “Why is this one so… annoying to you trash?”

“She just screams for you, sir. Between laughing like a mad woman that is. Over and over ever since she arrived. I saw her on her first week, and it’s almost a year at this point and she’s still on it.” The red head shook his head, arms crossed over his broad chest as he shrank a little in his stance to defer to the shorter but more powerful demon he was addressing. Crowley smirked, pleased. “A year long and nobody else got anything from her neither - and no black or red or nothing showing up as of yet.”

“And does this little soul have a name?”

Crowley felt the smirk bloom wider into a grin as he heard the name coming from the other demon’s mouth, before he pressed both his hands together in glee while the Russian burnt into flame and the brunette’s screams were silenced once and for all. Walking through the falling ash of the tall red head, the King of the Crossroads took off towards the torture fields. Today was a good, good day.

—

She had lost track how long it had been, and every time she thought it would stop that the demon, carving her up and tearing her apart and even that one time she wouldn’t think of, would take pity or give up, or would just give her a moment to breathe there was an endless second before they would either pick up another weapon or hand their implement to the next demon to start all over again as her body was made anew.

However, as she gurgled and spluttered over coughing up the viscous blood that clogged her throat that day as she let out a harsh sounding laugh, Jo heard something she had almost been praying for. She had realized somewhere around day one-hundred and fifty seven that she was honestly begging and praying that that voice, that man, would arrive. And at last, he was here.

“Joanna,” the voice was somehow smarmier than she remembered it, his accent rolling over her name in a way that made her want to tear off of the chains that bound her and wrap a hand around her neck. How dare he wait this long to come to her, she’d been calling and screaming for so long. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company down in my world?”

“Fucking werewolf I guess is what.” Jo gritted the words out at him, spitting the thick blood from her lips with a ragged cough as she fought to look through the busted eyelids from today’s torture. She could barely see, the sliced lids not reacting so well, leaving her to turn her head even a little to try to see him. “As for why down here, fuck knows.”

“Oh, I’m fairly certain we all know exactly why your down here, Joanna.” Crowley’s voice was closer now, and Jo jerked her head to the other side, trying to follow and pinpoint where he was speaking from. She must be looking the right way, as the next thing she felt was two fingers tilting her chin upwards towards his voice as the demon continued, “It’s all a big cosmic joke, you know. Of course you had to come down here, little girl, it’s where you were destined to go. The moment you sliced that hunter’s throat you were marked for us. I did tell you, remember?”

“Fuckin’ bullshit..” She struggled to get the words out, choking as the blood pooled backwards into her throat again as he stroked her chin with a thumb. “That was for his own good.”

“Perhaps, but if I recall from our little- ugh, you are drooling everywhere, let’s get that fixed first shall we? Have a real conversation like civilized people.” Jo found herself frowning at the way the demon paused in his words, the way he seemed to just be oozing smugness as he brushed a hand across her face and down her throat.

That smugness was evident on his face as well as her vision cleared, her eyes fixing and her throat healing under the touch. She could feel the rest of her renewed as well, fixing itself from the damage rendered that day as she looked into the self-satisfied black eyes staring back at her. As she felt the last bone knit back together and the last pieces of her broken skin scab and fade immediately, Jo watched as the black receded and left only the smirk in its place.

Crowley practically purred the next words out, his hand stroking along the side of her neck where she was trapped and bound by the hooks and chains puncturing through her shoulders. “Where was I? Ah, from our little fake deal you were being hunted and alienated by Heaven as it was, weren’t you? You did cause such a ruckus when you were up there last, and whatever it was you needed my help with sure hasn’t gone anywhere. It’d only been a few years for them, do you really think they’d allow you admittance again so soon?”

Jo snarled at that, sneer upon her lips as she spat the last bit of blood coating her tongue out at the demons feet. “So I get sent to eternal damnation cause Heaven are a bunch of fucking asswipes, and because I stopped the sufferin’ of another person?”

“Well those are your big ones, darling. You’re littered in little other choices - the stealing, the fraud, the theft, the debauchery, the cursing oh you do love the cursing, the questionable moral choices. Such a litany of options to pick from, Joanna.”

“Great, so cause I like the word fuck I’m in Hell, what fuckin’ bullshit.”

There was that chuckle again, and Jo tugged at her restraints to try to punch the smirk right off of the demons face. She found herself smiling grimly in response to the slight flinch as the other dropped his hand and took a full step back from her - eyes focused upon her own for a long second before the laugh came again. “Oh I so thought there was a flicker of black there, darling. You disappoint me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Regardless, you’ve been causing a bit of a stir down here already, did you know that?” Crowley tilted his head up at her, the smug look back in place but from what she could tell it wasn’t nearly as settled as it had been when he’d waltzed in if his tone was anything to go by. “What’s all this crying for me I’ve heard you’ve been doing? You so desperate for my company?”

Jo felt herself flushing at that - she had been calling for him, every day for the past year, and that it had been noted enough to get his attention finally was both embarrassing and frustrating. It shouldn’t have taken a full year of torture for him to finally decide to come sniff her out, should it?

“So? You wanted me, Joanna, what do you want to do with me now I’m here?” The words and the tone made her shiver in disgust, though as she glanced between his serious yet lecherous look and the few demons - some familiar from her torment, some she had no recollection of - that were peering from further behind him she could tell something was off with the situation. Crowley cleared his throat, drawing her eyes back to him as he gave her a stern look. “If you just wanted your presence noted, then well done message received and I’ll let your torture continue for the day; but if there was something else?”

“I was goin’ to offer you a deal.” Jo felt her voice quiver over the words as she stared him down, watching as a vicious smile crossed over the other’s face.

Crowley laughed again, straightening his back as he looked back up at her, grin firmly in place. “But, Joanna, you’re already in Hell. You’re already dead. You have nothing to offer down here, even your body is worth nothing here.” She jerked a leg out trying to kick him at the way his eyes ran over her, before laughing again at her reaction.

Snarling, Jo jerked herself upright as much as possible so she could stare down at both the demon in front of her and also glance easily towards those congregated nearby to watch the spectacle. Clearly a demon like Crowley being here and a demon in general talking to a soul seemed unusual. “I am worth everything to you right now, Crowley. I am worth your very life and existence.”

“How so, darling?”

“Because if I am still right here, in this position, when he comes for me?” Jo quirked her brow up, an equally vicious sneer on her face to the smile she had been receiving until the word ‘he’ crossed her lips, as she stared down at the other. “Then you know this whole place will be torn and devoured in retribution.”

“You-”

“Know that he’ll come? Of course he will. You and I both know it, and do you want to still be on his bad side, just like that lot will be, when that happens?” Her eyes flicked up in gesture at the group of demons behind the other before returning to stare him down. She felt the fire rising in her cheeks again as she hoped against hope that the one chance she had thought of the very first day as a hand had ripped her lungs from her rib cage would work. “Or do you want to be on his good side, Crowley?”

There was a long, drawn out moment between them as his name and her meaning hung heavily between the two of them where she thought perhaps the demon was unconcerned or would laugh her off, or that he may just decide to roll the dice and see if a monster and a demon were better matched in Hell than on Earth.

And then the chains disappeared.

—

Everyone was taking his shit again.

It was getting on his last nerves to turn around and find yet another of his things taken, usurped, stolen from his possession behind his back. First it had been the very pliable, very sweet and oh so willing monster - the blonde bitch had stolen him from underneath his view while he’d been busy being a fucking God. Second it have been that very godly power source itself - yet again by that tiny blonde nuisance and her little ragtag family of fucked up hunters. Third had been the usurping and claiming of an entire section of his dominions space by that fucking wine guzzling demon - that was nearly the last straw when he had returned to Hell to find his favorite room occupied by the pervert.

But this? This was the last straw.

“You finished the entire bottle?!”

“Hell is boring, there’s not much to do here.” The blonde kicked her feet in the air above herself where she was laid out atop what was once his bed. She was as impertinent as always, even saved from the rack and put up in his wonderfully lavish rooms she was still unsatisfied. It was a wonder that he’d bother to come all the way down to Hell after such a selfish brat, but then Crowley thought that the monster had clearly lost his mind after their… time apart. “It’s not like I can go walkin’ about the place, and I am well and truly sick of your collection of books-”

“Of course she can’t appreciate great literature, of course.” Crowley muttered the words quietly to himself as he rubbed a hand over his face in irritation. Not being devoured and destroyed was almost not worth putting up with the woman. As he rubbed his eyes and opened them again, he bit down an annoyed groan at seeing the previous hunter sat on her knees and bouncing in boredom on top the bed. “What is it you want instead, Joanna?”

“I dunno, I’m just bored. This place is boring!”

“I could throw you back on the rack if you’re that bored here with me.” He growled the words out as he turned his attention back to the crystal decanter and watched it fill before his eyes with the honey colored liquor he so desperately needed right then. Pouring himself a glass, and then considering for a moment and pouring a second, Crowley turned around again to see the blonde sitting at the end of the bed and blinking at him in surprise as he approached, glass held out to her. A peace offering in Hell, possibly the first of it’s kind. “I could also call up Lilith and let her know you are here. Or perhaps I should see if any of those other friends of yours are down here and already sporting a pair of fun colored eyes. Or-”

“Enough!” The girl cried out in exasperation as she took the glass from him, flopping her other arm up and down in frustration to hopefully silence him. Crowley felt his lips tug into a smirk, amusement at watching such behavior growing as she took a small sip of her drink. The smirk grew seeing the correct process for enjoying his favorite and finest choice of drink, a stray thought that he remembered their discussions of drinks and life and that she had a sweet laugh. Crowley found himself shaking that thought away with a sneer.

“Well then, Joanna. What do you want from me? I can’t let you wander around unaccompanied and I am definitely not letting you bother me at work-”

Crowley growled as the blonde appeared to perk up, eyes wide and staring at him with a devious look on her face. “Work? You do actual work?”

“What do you think being the fucking King of the Crossroads means?” He snapped the words out at her as he moved to sit down at the desk to the side of the room, and rolled his eyes as he heard that godforsaken laugh come out in response to his surliness. It sounded just the same. Crowley pulled one of his ledgers out and began marking down the steps for the next few days of Earth time - it was a blessing in so many ways, if that word was ever able to be applied in Hell, that their time functioned differently. What was a day or two away on the natural plane was months in the burning center of Hell. It allowed him ample time to organise when the hounds would be deployed, when the upcoming souls would be reaped and dragged kicking and screaming below. It allowed him extra time to set up the rosters of rotation for his underlings as to who will visit Earth and swindle the next dealer out of their soul. “Yes, I do actual work, you insolent little brat.”

“Really, though? Cause I ain’t never seen a demon do no goddamn work.” Jo’s voice was closer than the bed he realized about a moment too late, before there was blonde hair hanging over his shoulder as the inquisitive, bored bitch began looking over his shoulder. “Why, I didn’t know you could do math, Crowley! Here I thought you couldn’t count to know that some thirty or forty million would mean way too fuckin’ many for one demon to take on himself.”

He felt himself reacting before his brain caught up to the movement, the girl flung across the room and landing back on the bed again by his powers, before he was holding her down firmly with a hand pressed over her neck. Crowley did not need this upstart reminding him of his misadventures. He did not need her, of all people, taunting him with those choices which had placed him firmly on the top of every power scale for so long before it was wrenched out of him by her devious little schemes. He should simply burn her soul to shreds right here and now, and deny she ever arrived downstairs when the monster came looking. He should throw her back on the rack, or even into Lilith’s private rooms as a present to the fallen Queen. Perhaps he should even just give her to that demonic wolf when it finally showed up again.

Instead of any of those, Crowley found himself withdrawing his hand at the shocked and almost terrified look that was splayed across the girl’s face before moving back to his desk, tugging at his shirt cuffs as he sat back to face the pile of contracts to his side as well as the schedule and the list of numbers needed to collect and collate soon enough.

He had hoped that would have silenced her and allowed him some peace and quiet for the last few hours of the day, and as he began to sip from his glass as he continued his accounting, Crowley was surprised by that grating voice chirping up from beside him again.

“Who the hell agreed to these terms?”

“Humans are fools, Joanna, you should know being one.” He snapped back, as he rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes trying to avoid looking at her and giving her the attention she was clearly after. Crowley remembered how desperate for attention she could be.

“I know that, you asshole. I meant who the fuck allowed this… Princeton, really? He’s goin’ by Princeton? - anyway, who allowed him to make a deal to give some human ‘power to bring back his loved ones’? What kind of dumbass demons do you have working for you, Crowley?”

That question caused him to pause, pen hovered above paper, as he turned to face her. “What?”

“Some fuckin’ idiotic demon’s gone and given some bloke the ability to revive the dead!”

“That’s not possible. None of my workers would-” Crowley growled, starting to feel that irritation start back up again as the blonde looked back at him impishly. At his words, she began to wave one of his contracts due for review in front of his face teasingly, a cocky quirk to a brow. “They wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but he did. Stupid demon let that be the wordin’, not just some specific loved one, but loves ones in general. Guess you’re going to be missin’ some souls as soon as the bloke works it out.” Joanna’s face was twisted into a dark look of glee as she continued to wave the paper at him until he snatched it, before turning her attention down to start reading through the pile in her lap. “Looks like your little demon needs some remedial training in using the right words, Crows.”

Crowley almost dropped the contract hearing the heavy meaning behind the mistake by his underling as he reviewed the contract in question itself, signed-sealed and too late to change now, and then did fumble it at the name slipping from the other’s lips. That brought back memories. His shirt felt too tight around his neck, and tugging at the fabric he turned his attention firmly back to the contract laying, judging, upon his desk.

His eyes ran over the words and found the sick feeling that the woman was right. His demon had made a grave mistake, and it would cost Hell and the so called Princeton dearly for it. Crowley dragged the communication chalice towards him from the corner, calling into the swirling surface for the hounds to tear apart the demon “in the main waiting room” and to leave him as a message for the remaining workers. It was too little too late, but hearing the quiver in the voice of Lola at the other end, he felt a little better for the foolish mistake.

As Crowley drained his glass and began to move towards his drinks trolley for a very needed refill to think over how to resolve that mess of a deal before it got too out of hand, he felt his hand still at the quiet voice in the even quieter room, “So, uh… I shouldn’t bring up the next problem, should I?”

He poured his drink and downed it in one, the burn nothing he was unfamiliar with other than the twist of his stomach at the idea of wasting his precious Craig in one swallow, before he refilled the glass again and looked across at the curious tilt of the blonde’s head.

She’d been residing in his space for a year - a year of snipping, of bickering, of her jabbing at him when bored and him venting his anger of a days work out on her in increasingly nasty comments as the days drew on without the appearance of the shadow. A full year tormenting and teasing one another, and wearing down that fury and disgust of one another through sheer exposure so far.

But tilting his glass at her as he moved back towards the desk, Crowley decided to return her olive branches with his own. “Actually, it would be the perfect time for you to bring it up, Jo.”

—

She couldn’t quite work out how much time had been passing for her so far upstairs. One time Sam had told her in a hushed voice how time moved so much faster in Hell that a month was like ten years, but she knew for certain it was no where near that long yet. Maybe two or so weeks at most, Jo knew that he’d have well and truly found out about her by now, but just what had happened since she couldn’t hazard a guess. It had been four years so far for her, but it had almost felt like a blink after she had been drawn down from the sharp hooks.

Her entire peaceful existence in the rooms that had once been lavishly decorated in deep wood tones and reds and velvet, now changed to reflect the light blues and whites and honey wood tones she favored sometime last year when she had whined for a month straight about the masculinity of the space - a fight that raged on for two whole weeks through her silent treatment to the demon offhandedly saying it seemed like it would suit her perfectly - and tagging along with the demon with a clip board and disdainful sneer was reliant upon what he would do upon finding out where she was.

He had always said he’d come for her, and that was the one thing she held onto tighter than anything else.

There was a knock that day on the door to her room - fuck you very much, Crows she thought to herself - and Jo was unsurprised to see the redheaded demon outside it, looking a mixture of uncertain and frightened as she always did. Jo frightened nearly everyone in the Crossroads section by her sheer existence and the rumors she had gotten over fifty-six demons torn apart or destroyed entirely in the last three years for sloppy workmanship or even looking at her wrong.

Last year alone was twenty-three, and Jo meant to top that number this year.

"I.. I was wondering if I could talk." The younger looking girl asked, an uncomfortable smile upon her face and Jo could see her tugging at the hips of her black dress absent minded. Tempest had been one of the few demons Crowley had allowed to speak with her, and Jo found she was sought out every few weeks after some deal had been struck. “If it’s a good time, that is.”

“Of course, of course, not like I have much else to do.” Jo replied with a smile before cringing when she realized how close to whining that sounded as well as how insensitive it was to the young demon. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but Jo could just tell this one was still relatively young - especially compared to the way Crowley and even moreso Ruby behaved - and Jo had already noticed the way the girl would show up as soon as her contract paperwork was completed on a new deal. “Sorry, come in, let’s chat.”

“Oh, no no, it’s fine, of course you didn’t- it’s not like- you’re not-”

“I’m not the same as everyone else,” Jo supplied helpfully however the smile had dropped completely from her face as she ushered the other into the room and shut the door with a heavy thud of the solid wood door behind her. “But anyway, you wanted to talk?”

There was a long tense moment, quiet in the softly furnished room feeling less oppressive than it would have a year ago but quiet and heavy nonetheless. Sometimes the demon wanted to talk about her deal that day. Sometimes the demon wanted to talk about how unfair her own deal had been. And sometimes she just wanted Jo to talk about her own life and what the young girl had missed out on by losing out on life so early. Tempest was endlessly fascinated by the life Jo had left - so so far from the type of life the pretty, popular cheerleader and valedictorian had lived. Jo almost felt like her life was being raked over with a fine tooth comb each time that she relived a single memory with the other, what could be a simple story stretching for hours.

“There was... she was so young... she was too young to know better but-” The redhead struggled over the words, her voice catching every few words as she turned with those baleful blue eyes towards Jo. “I remember being that young. I’d made mine by then, but she had such a better life ahead of her and...” Jo gently guided the other towards the small couch before pushing the girl’s shoulders so they both sat. Seated, Tempest appeared to fidget all the worse, the red of her eyes flashing as she spoke in a calmly cold voice, “She just wanted him to stop beating her mother. She just wanted her little brother to be safe. She just wanted them to be okay, her...” The tone shifted again and Jo could see the telltale shine of unshed tears covering the redhead’s eyes as she fought to stop them falling, the last words a quiet, shaky whisper, “Her words originally left her free to his wrath.”

“Originally?” Jo felt the corners of her lips tugging as if wanting to pull into a comforting and approving smile, but she fought it down until she was certain that the other had managed to pull off what demons never should.

Tempest’s head jerked to look at her, the tears freely running now and Jo couldn’t help but think the girl should have been given a chance to live before it was taken. Even red-eyed and confirmed demonic, she still held so much of her humanity secretly squirreled away from what Jo could tell. “Yes. I... might have got her to rephrase herself before it was finalised.”

“You did a good job there, Tems.” Jo replied, the smile finally pulling up as she sank back into the soft cushions of the couch. There was a second before she saw something much the same cross the demon’s face - a smile of satisfaction or pleasure at either the praise or from Jo’s almost approval, she couldn’t have said.

“I sure hope si-Crowley doesn’t mind the change-”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t you worry ya pretty little head.” The blonde cut her off with a flippant wave of a hand, smirking a tad.

It had been an interesting two years of relearning a deeply buried relationship with the demon - there had been more than a few screaming and shouting matches, there had been more than a few tears spilled by her and even a handful from the demon himself, there had been a month long argument whereby neither could come to an agreement as to how wrong the King of the Crossroads was about the shadow and his relationship, there had been an even longer fight when Crowley had gone so far to suggest that the shadow was not coming for her when he had not summoned the demon to find out her whereabouts yet - but there had been marked improvement.

Jo wouldn’t say she had forgotten the treatment from the ex-King of Hell after she’d been returned to Earth. She hadn’t forgotten his proposing a fake deal requiring her to believe she’d damned herself in exchange for protection and to be reunited with her then friend. She hadn’t forgotten he forced the angel to lie to her, nor that when the angel had infuriated him he had decided to drive her to the psych-ward and drive her insane all on his own. She hadn’t forgotten that he lied about it to her and to him. She hadn’t forgotten the chlorine gas, she hadn’t forgotten the constant teasing and how he strained her friendship with him.

She hadn’t forgotten for one moment the treatment for her love at his hands - that she had yet to forgive compared to so much else.

She hadn’t forgotten how the moment he claimed the power of Purgatory for himself everything changed and they all became his play things. She hadn’t forgotten the mind games - the threats to her mother, the threats to herself, to him, to the angel; the crying and the runes, the blood under her fingers and the absolutely distraught look on the shadow’s face as she helped him to her car; the knife and the way she had to slice through his back; the collar of all fucking things and all it represented. She hadn’t forgotten any of it, and while she may have forgiven large swathes of the wrong doings, Jo had yet to forgive anything to do with the few people she still held dear.

However, there had been a shift between them along the line. Slowly the hard line of hatred had begun to blur and blend and mix away until it was all but gone. Instead, they’d almost fallen back into the same routine as before all that shit had happened - Crowley was Crows and Jo was Jo, however she knew he’d never call her Princess again with the girl sitting next to her having slowly taken that spot. It didn’t matter so much any more, that was from when she was a younger, more naive girl and he was still trying to grasp something to feel more human again. Now, they were on the same page of the novel and reading from the same script for grown ups.

“You’ll take care of what, Jo?” The clipped tone came from near the drinks trolley - the one piece of furniture she had not demanded to be removed, the one thing that was constantly and never changing from his in the space but seemed to blend in so well with the rest of her choices - as the demon poured out two glasses of scotch without any indication he had looked towards both women at any point. Jo was unsurprised by his sudden arrival, and even less surprised when he summoned a comfortable chair for himself across from the lounge, though that it matched her decor choices always filled her with a strange sort of warmth given his previous penchant for summoning whatever was his style or interest. “Congratulations on another busy day, by the way love, good job with that young lady and her family.”

Jo could see it immediately as Crowley came to sit across from the pair of them and pushed the second glass across to her. The way the demon beside her immediately straightened her back and smoothed her dress skirt nervously, the way her relaxed posture changed in a blink, her hands twisted and fidgeted unconsciously in her lap and the tears and almost happy smile had shifted to the mask that was required before her colleagues.

“Th-thank you, sir.” The demon stumbled over the words, and Jo found herself trying not to roll her eyes at the nervous energy rolling off of her. “I was just.. just telling Jo about it.”

“Well, that’s pleasant. I hope she hasn’t been trying to talk your into striking-”

“Oh bugger off, I know how this place works-”

“No, you know how you’d like it to work.”

“I’m still sayin’ there should be age limits-”

“Fucking Hell, Jo, that isn’t how this place works! We are demons, as I remind you constantly, age and the ability to comprehend reality is not necessary to us. And if you begin on the impact of that Kripper fellow targeting the disabled again-”

“But-”

“It’s not how we work, Jo. They will come to use eventually.”

“Well then why care, right? You guys do your bit, the horrible worst parts of humanity do their parts, you’ll end up with plenty of pretty little souls so why make trouble talkin’ your best wheeler-and-dealer into goin’ on strike?” Jo shrugged a shoulder as she stared the other demon down over the top of her glass. From the corner of her eye, she could see the way the redhead’s attention jerked back and forth between them at the rapid fire exchange like a rapt tennis viewer. “Why bother caring at all?”

“And this is why I’m so dissatisfied that our little friend would hate for you to become one of us, love. You’d make such a good one.”

---

There was a strange man in her room. Well, man was incorrect as he was clearly a demon. And strange would also be possibly wrong too, as he seemed fairly normal if slightly like what Bobby would be like if he was even older, more cynical and sarcastic, and happened to have a bit more panache.

However the point still remained, there was a demon in her room that she had no recollection of ever seeing before.

“Excuse me-” Jo began, her fists rubbing at her eyes as she blinked blearily towards the man sitting on her couch with a glass of wine and the air of ownership that she’d had to browbeat out of Crowley for the last 7 years. She shifted to sit upright, eyes fixed directly back on the curious yet bemused one’s in the stranger.

“You are excused, little girl.” The voice sounded familiar, and Jo almost thought she’d heard it through the walls sometimes - loud or quiet, but that familiar timbre definitely one she had heard echoing down the halls alongside Crowley’s own enraged tones. There was a similar smile to the demon’s face that she thought would look in place on the British demon’s one, but a slight awareness and danger to the look that Jo had not seen on the other for ages. “I just thought I should finally introduce myself to my new neighbor.”

“Neighbor?” Jo parroted back, and at the way the demon ran an inquisitive eye over her she grabbed her blankets back up and held against her chest. “I didn’t think Crowley’d given anyone else actual rooms down ‘ere.”

“Oh as if I listen to what that fool does,” the demon replied between sips from his glass. Jo hoped abstractly that he would not spill any of the red liquid on her couch, it would be a bitch to get out of the white fabric. “I decided I liked the view from the space four doors down, and no overly inflated crossroad-boy is going to stop me taking what catches my eye.”

Jo felt her cheeks flush a little at that, however the demon did not continue to stare at her, his eyes drawn back to his wine and the swirl of the liquid in the glass at the right turn of his hand. Clearly, this demon was much older and in control of himself than Crowley had ever hoped to be.

“Well, that’s good for you but that don’t excuse your poppin’ into a girl’s room without askin’.” Jo hissed the words back, clutching the blanket tighter and higher against her front to cover the ugly band t-shirt she had wiggled out of Crowley three years earlier. “I’d ask you to leave, Mr. uh...”

“How very rude of me, almost like that overgrown oaf who’s room you appear to have likewise usurped.” The older man smiled again, and Jo could see how it was not quite as predatory as she first thought - too many times dealing with touchy, gross and disgusting demons over the years sending her mind straight to the worst unfortunately - but there was definitely something unsettling to the look. As if behind the deep lines and furrowed brows there was something dangerous and powerful lurking but only when the mood struck. “My name, dear girl, is Vassago. You may have heard of me, just a little old Prince of Hell and continuous thorn in the side of that little jester-King of Nothing, Crowley.”

Jo found herself laughing against her best intentions, a hand raised to cover her mouth as she reacted on instinct to the charming tone and just how amusing the older demon seemed to be. The term ‘Prince of Hell’ made a shiver run down her spine however the clear good humored delivery won over the cold fear that brought about. Additionally, as she looked about the room and saw no signs of the hulking beasts that most of those higher ranked demons took to dragging everywhere with them that Jo was still coming to terms with being exposed to helped settle her nerves further.

“And you, my dear, I need a name to put to such a pretty, young face.” The demon was talking again, and Jo found herself biting upon her bottom lip at the dark curiosity that she could see rolling off of the man. He gave an air of not caring, sipping and swirling his wine and being cautious not to look at her took long; but Jo was still a hunter and she still knew when someone was watching her in a way that spelled trouble.

Pausing over replying, Jo waited a long moment before breathing out her name with a deep sigh. “Jo Harvelle.”

“Hmm. Well, I can see why Crowley, that Lothario wannabe, pulled you off the racks for a bed warmer - though I sure hope, my dear, that you are aware you’ll be back in Lilith’s domain before long.”

“Ex-fuckin’-scuse you?!” Jo found herself out of the bed and she stalked towards the demon in a flash at the sheer suggestion. “I am no goddamn fuckin’ bed warmer, you sanctimonious fuck!”

The next moment she found herself pressed against the opposite wall, still spitting mad and not eve caring about the hard walls pushing into her back.

“Are you not? Were you not in his bed upon my arrival-”

“It’s not his fuckin’ bed, you shitface! It’s my bed!”

“You mean to claim ownership of part of Hell? You? A little, barely out of infancy human soul?” There was something to his tone that concerned her all over again as the man rose from his seat and she could see two dark shadow-like forms following his movements around the room. Jo barely bit down on the desire to snarl at him again as the man approached her, all the while swirling that dark red liquid in his glass. “My, you really are a curious little thing, aren’t you?”

“I’ve heard I’m a fuckin’ bitch more often.” Jo snapped back, wishing desperately she could cross her arms and do more than simply sneer at the demon. “What the fuck are you doin’ here anyways?”

“Oh I’d heard whispers of some little human being kept by that fool like a pet-” Jo snarled loudly at that word, and was almost surprised by the intrigued look she got in response before the demon continued, “-like a little dolly being dressed up and played with and paraded about his little slice of Hell. Such a thing? Very much an intriguing anomaly.”

“Well, an intriguing anomaly sounds about right.” Jo ground the words out in response and was caught off guard as the power holding her against the wall disappeared and she dropped to her feet with a small stumble.

She was even more thrown when a hand shot out to steady her from falling flat upon her face, common manners not frequently displayed by any of the demons she had ever faced down excepting Crowley on rare occasions.

“And what makes you so special, Miss Harvelle? What does the so called King of the Crossroads, that drunken foolish oaf, see of worth in you?” There was a calculation in the demon’s eyes, a flash of yellow that made Jo’s skin break out in goosepimples, that she was not used to seeing in the stupid and snivelly crossroads demons she had mostly interacted with lately. He was old, practically ancient, Jo could feel it immediately from the way he held her arm in the appropriate place until she pulled it back to herself. “Why are you his choice little toy, dear?”

“I’m not a fuckin’ toy, I’m not anythin’ special all myself-”

“You must be one or the other, my dear, so please - identify your worth to me.”

“I..” Jo stumbled over the words, eyes darting about the room and almost praying for Crowley to pop in unexpectedly as he usually did whenever the mood struck him in either to vent about the foolish demons, ask her opinion on the work performance of some under-performing demon, or just to share a drink and talk or not talk. If he would just appear, maybe this demon could fuck off without her putting her foot in her mouth. However, Crowley ever contrary did not ever appear when she needed him. “I’m just a soul with a rather large problematic element attached to it.”

“Oh? Explain, girl.” Vassago waved a hand at her as Jo jerked back away from him and moved to place as much space between them as possible, sinking into the desk chair and swiveling to one side and then the other as she kept a watchful eye upon the carefully blank look the demon was trying to convince her with.

Jo thought over saying exactly what she was - a bargaining tool for Crowley’s survival when he finally came to claim her back from Hell - but that just seemed like too much information and possibly dangerous to let the facts be known. “I... “ She tilted her head to one side as she swiveled left and then right, watching intently as the demon sank into the center of her couch as if it were his own. “I guess you’d have to just wait and see.”

“Enigmatic too. Curiouser and curiouser, little Jo Harvelle.” The almost predatory look was back as the demon sized her up, a look Jo span about the whole way in the swivel chair to avoid staring down fully before she heard a harsh sounding laugh and when on her next spin she saw him as he spoke and then he was gone the very next that did nothing to settle her nerves. “I do look forward to discovering what secrets you hide.”

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