Title: Queen of Darkness and Daisies
Paring: Crowley (Fergus MacLeod) X Reader
Warnings: mentions, torture. Also mentions Kevin, who is the literal embodiment of sunshine. So I guess that balances it out. Minor swears, too. Also, this is a female reader, because it's hard finding a gn term for King/Queen.
Spoilers: yes, I think, for end of Season 8 and beginning of 9 for Supernatural.
Author's note: if nobody is going to request anything, I'm still going to post. Just stuff I want to write.
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You'd never expected yourself to become the Queen of Hell. Or a Queen of anything, to be honest. But here you were, and here you stood. Or, sat, to be more accurate. In a bunker full of hunters and their friends, nursing a cup of something warm between your fingertips.
"How are we to know he has a freaking girlfriend?" The short one growled. "And that she'd stop the conversion?"
They stood away from you, in another room. Your ears weren't supernaturally gifted or anything like your husband, but the men were talking very, very loud.
The taller one, the one with the floppy hair sighed. "She didn't stop it. Abbadon did." He reasoned. "And while we need Crowley for interrogation, Dean, they're they're both fugitives. _________ needs a place safe from those creatures."
"No. No! I put my foot down. I've done it. My foot is down. I don't want that witch staying here."
"Don't listen to Dean, he's only half talk." You blink, and realise who had spoken to you. It's the girl, the one with red hair and a bright smile and brighter shirt. What had they introduced her as? Charisse? Charlene? Charlie. "He didn't much like me when we first met. It'll be okay."
You couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure it will, in time." You glance to your still hot mug. "But in time, what will happen to Crowley?"
She winced at the tender topic. "I'm not sure. All they really do is interrogate...and yeah, a little torture." You let out a whimper. "I mean, he's a strong guy. I mean, demon. Person. He'll, uh, make it through."
You cautioned a sip of your cup, feeling the tea heat you up. At the same time, you weren't sure, but an additional voice chimed into the Winchester argument, and drew the men forth.
"Hello, ________, my name is Castiel. I am an angel of The Lord. I am also a very good friend of Sam and Dean, and I have decided on behalf of everybody, that you will be granted asylum here for as long as it takes for us to get what we require from Crowley, or it is safe for you to return outside."
You nod, and slowly, beam up at him. "Thank you, Castiel." Shifting your hand to touch his, you add, "Your reputation for justice matches what I've you seen display. I'm very grateful."
The shorter one rolls his eyes. "Parasite."
Was this one Dean? Well, whoever he was, being rude wasn't going to get him anywhere.
"I'm not a vampire, nor one who climbs socially to reap what was not theirs to sow," you retort as quickly as you are quiet, crossing your arms. "Yes, I am married to your enemy, the King, and yes, I'm as human as you are, but can you not see how unfair this is?" You ask Dean.
His face lights up with fury, and somewhere near you, you hear Charlie whistle lowly, under her breath. "Where's Kevin when you need him?" she practically whispers, whipping her phone out to speed text.
"Unfair?" Dean repeats your words slowly, tauntingly. "Unfair? I'll tell you unfair. When your whole family dies and you have to spend all your time getting caught up saving the world from shitty stuff they all don't care about." He fumes.
You nod. For a few moments, you're not sure if you're about to cry or burn in anger, but you just sigh.
"I know. I love my husband, Dean, even if he doesn't understand feelings and love because he isn't human. And I love your fierceness to protect what is yours - a translator, a brother, a hacker, an angel, all living here ... You protect them from all to do with what's often at the other end of your gun. And, you've decided I am next in line."
You place your tea on the little table, and rise to stand off against him. Even if he's still much taller than you.
"_________, ignore Dean," Sam announces with a growl. "An idiot would come between Crowley and his...Queen. Like Cas said, you're welcome here."
Charlie pipes up. "Me and Kevin have a spare bed in our room," she pats your back gently. "Hey, roomie."
It's now many days later, and Crowley, with his new emotions, is borderline frantic. He lost it all - his reputation, his groove ... his _________. He had heard no word from his jailer, Dean, of her, and now he was afraid. Could a king be afraid? He wasn't sure. He'd only been the King of Hell for such a short time.
It was almost a week in, when he broke his resolve, and asked.
"Where is she?" He asked the squirrel, after another unsuccessful bout of torture. The room was dark, and so was his hope that ________ wasn't captured by Abbadon and waiting for death.
"__________, right?" Dean turned, just before leaving the dungeon. "No word of her."
Crowley's heart sank even lower than it already was. Could it be possible he was losing it? No. Crowley doesn't 'lose it', unless 'it' was his temper, not his sanity. He loves his ________, even if what he'd shown her before wasn't love. Crowley couldn't help but feel the cold touch of despair chill him.
"I'll find you, ________," he vows under his breath.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the shared room, you're striking awe and slight confusion into the hearts of Charlie and Kevin with the classic 'how I met my husband' story. Except, it's not like anyone's usual whirlwind romance.
"You met Crowley at a garden shop?" Kevin repeats. "What the frick was he doing there?"
You smile. "I worked there. The first time, he bought geraniums, and was considering daffodils. He needed help deciding for a plot of land, but I set him on the path to daisies." Your face lights up, and tracing a pattern on your arm, you add, "After that, he came nearly everyday and bought flowers, for almost a year. A new bloom every time. We took it -,"
Charlie's smile widens, and elbowing you, she stage-whispers. "Keep going, you're weirding out Kev. I don't think he ever thought of Crowley having a life partner."
She was right. Kevin did look uncomfortable.
You smile. "It was last year, we got married ... today's our anniversary." Suddenly, the weirded-out Kevin glanced up, with something in his eye you knew to be sympathy. "What I'd do to see him again."
The door to the bedroom opened slightly.
"__________?" Dean's jaw is set, arms crossed with his hostile air. "A word?"
Charlie and Kevin watched on as you left with curious, suspicious eyes. All week you'd kept under his radar, and they couldn't help but worry for you. Yes, you were the queen of darkness, but also of daisies.
You had to nearly run to keep up with Dean's footfalls. So this was a walk and talk. "Did I do anything wrong? Did Crowley? I've followed your rules -,"
He grumbles, and you aren't sure if it's a laugh or a throat clearing. "He asked about you. He's not cooperating, and I need leverage for this."
Your hands ghost upward to your neck.
"No, I'm not going to hurt you for him," Dean's smirk is as dry as his humour around you. "He needs motivation, and you're going to be there to help with that."
"If you think I'll help you torture my love, you're wrong," you tell Dean. "I promised him my loyalty, my love, my life when we were married ... I'm not sure I can be very useful if I'm afraid to see him hurt."
"I know. Just follow my lead." Dean stops, and turns into a door. Is it a supply closet? No, he's opened the shelves. Secret supply closet, then.
"Dean-o," the familiar voice announces. It's cracked and sore as if he's been yelling for days on end. As you come out from behind Dean, you nearly cry; Crowley's beaten up and chained to a chair like an animal. There's dried blood and sweat and muck everywhere. His eyes flicker, and still on you. "_________? Love?"
Dean nods. "She's here to help you talk. I'm sure we can work something out. I need those names, Crowley." From his jacket, he brought out a crayon, and a small paper. "Here."
"Dearest," you whisper, holding back. He is such a mighty king, but here, he looks more man than monster. Maybe that's what Sam was speaking of. Had they changed your Crowley?
Dean drew a pistol from his jacket. "If you don't give names, I'll shoot her."
Crowley's breath changed. "Your code wouldn't allow it, she's human, as human as you."
"Make a choice, Crowley." Dean growled.
"I want fifteen minutes with my wife," Crowley bargained. He was in no position to, but you knew it to be a part of his nature. "And then I'll give you a hundred names."
Dean stilled, and lowered his gun. "You've got ten minutes. I'll be outside."
The door didn't shut behind him, but as soon as Dean departed, you rushed to your King's side.
"Oh Crowley, forgive me," you shuddered, a week's worth of tears falling. "I've missed you."
He withdrew as much as he could've from your embrace with all the chains. His face was lit with confusion - and an unsullied adoration shining through his gaze.
"Me, forgive you? You've not done anything wrong, love," his voice is steady. "I'm - I'm deplorable. Despicable. A demon. And you still love me. I shouldn't even have you, I don't deserve -,"
You end his words with a kiss. "You may be a demon, and you may do wrong, but do you do them for your right reasons? I know you do not love me -,"
Tears watered in his eyes. "But I do, my Queen. I've missed you, and I know I shouldn't have..."
You gripped his collar, gripped his shoulders, gripped his dilapidated spirit in a hug. "I do not care how we came together. I do not care horrid you can be. I care that you can protect me and we have something special, something worthwhile together."
"I love you," Crowley whispered. "But how can I protect you? You're here. In a den of hunters, and I -,"
"Give Dean the names, darling," you whispered without blinking. "I know it means betrayal of our kingdom, and our way, but it is the only way we can get out from this."
Crowley was the King, and he was the King of Hell. But there was one thing a king would never do. And that was to ignore his Queen.
"Okay, time's up," Dean announced, sauntering back in. "You gonna write or writhe?"
You stepped away just in time to see Crowley roll his eyes. "Sounds like the opening line to a badly written porno," he drawled, "I agree to your terms."
The Crowley you knew was back.
It would all be okay.