Supernatural, Seasons 6-10: (Sam Winchester x Female!Reader)

Weekend At Bobby's

3rd Person P.O.V
One Year Ago
Bobby is working on some sort of magical ritual in his study as the TV plays the news. He cuts his palm and adds his blood to the ingredients in a large bowl. "Et ad congregandum... Eos coram me." He chanted and lights a match, setting the ingredients in the bowl alight.

Crowley appears in the kitchen doorway. "Been making merry, have we?" He asked. "Bite me." Bobby said. "If that's your thing." Crowley said and snaps fingers to turn off TV then steps toward Bobby.

"That Swan dive of Sam's was a thing of beauty. Tens all the way round. Standing ov from the Romanian judge. How's (Name) by the way? Poor girl didn't cry herself to sleep did she?" Crowley asked and Bobby glares daggers back at him.

"That bad, huh? Well as they say, there's more fish in the sea. She'll find someone to replace her dear Sam. In the meantime, you should be proud, Bobby. As deaths go, it wasn't too shabby. Cheer up, mate, we just saved the sodding world together. Me, I've been celebrating." Crowley said.

"I'd hate to see what you call celebrating." Bobby said. "Yes, you would." Crowley said and Bobby lifts a bottle of alcohol, offering it to Crowley. "Drink?" He asked and Crowley looks appalled. "No!"

Bobby pours himself a drink. "Let me get this straight we just..." He said, picking up his glass. "Saved the sodding world together." He said, mocking Crowley's accent. "And you're too good to drink with me?" He asked.

"Obviously." Crowley replied and points to a bottle on the television. "I doubt that you have my brand." He said. "What's your poison, your highness?" Bobby asked, walking around his desk.

Crowley breaths in deep. "Craig. Aged 30 years at least. I've been drinking it since grade school." He said. "Well, I got old rotgut aged 6 days." Bobby said, taking a drink as Crowley watches. "Swill like that is gonna burn a hole in your soul... oops sorry, my soul. But that's why you called. Our little deal." Crowley said.

"Yeah, well, it's about time you hold up your end and give it back." Bobby said. "Give it back?" Crowley asked, innocently, like he didn't know he was supposed to do that. "Our deal was, we ice Lucifer, you rip up the lease." Bobby reminded him.

Crowley smirks. "Oh." He said, turning away from Bobby. "You didn't read your contract." He said. "The hell you talking about, contract?" Bobby asked and Crowley turns toward Bobby, snaps his fingers and points. Bobby writhes in pain as writing appears on his body.

"Paragraph 18, subsection B, which is on you naughty bits... I only have to make best efforts to give you back your soul." Crowley said. "Meaning what?" Bobby asked. "Meaning..." Crowley said, making a straining gesture and sighs. "I'd like to... but I can't." He said.

"You lying sack of..." Bobby growled but Crowley cuts him off. "Ten years..." He said, walking across the room towards Bobby. "...you come to daddy. Until then, I suggest you start drinking the good stuff."

"I figured you'd say that. So you can rot here till you change your mind." Bobby said. "Why? 'Cause you asked nicely?" Crowley asked and Bobby shakes his head. "No." He replied and walks past Crowley to the back of the room. "Cause I'm going Dateline on your ass." He said, turning off the light and Crowley see a Devil's Trap painted on the floor under his feet, in glowing paint.

"I hope that's paint." Crowley remarked and he looks at Bobby "Really." He said and sighs. "What am I going to do?" He asked. Bobby turns towards the kitchen to walk away and Crowley let's out a sharp whistle.

Crowley's hell hound growls and Bobby grimaces as the hell hound breaths in his face. "Doggie breath." Crowley said and Bobby covers his face. "Bracing, isn't it?" Crowley asked. Bobby gulps and turns towards the demon. "Ball's in your court, Robert. Ten years of living or ten years as Alpo." Crowley said.