#candlelight dinner

Chapter 3: Red Wine Spilling On The Floor

Crowley had taken you back to your room after your negotiation, showing you around the house on the way. When he wasn't threatening you, Crowley could be a gracious host. You were surprised to see works of art as you passed, it was as if the corridors came to life at Crowley's touch. However, you were still a little skeptical about "the real Monalisa where she’s topless".

After that, Crowley had left you alone, not only for the rest of the day but for almost a week. His absence was almost as threatening as his presence, but after a few days, you finally let yourself breathe. There were demons in the house but none of them spoke to you. They watched you silently, hidden in the shadows. You had no doubt that they were reporting your every move to Crowley so you made sure to appear as innocent and docile as possible.

You spent your days in the library, researching diligently as Crowley had instructed, only taking breaks to eat and sleep. You cooked for yourself, not trusting demons to come near your food. Plus, you enjoyed regular manual labor, it kept you thinking while keeping your hands busy. Most of the time, the music you were listening to at full volume, like a small rebellion against your jailers, was just background noise as you were so focused on your thoughts.

Despite what you tried to make Crowley and his minions believe, you didn't spend your days trying to locate the Word of God. Instead, you learned about demons, their abilities, and more importantly, their weaknesses. You had spent your life studying them and yet you knew nothing about them, it was as if a new world had opened up to you. Still, your studies and knowledge were useful to you in quickly classifying what was useful and true. You had no time to waste on false theories.

One of your finds had caught your eye in particular, holy water. It wouldn't be hard for you to make some and keeping a bottle of water on you for defense wouldn't draw attention. Humans needed to drink water to survive and Crowley had told you to make yourself comfortable here. So you tore a bar from your stupidly large and opulent four-poster bed and, with a knife you had stolen from the kitchen, you carved it into a cross.

After that, you didn't go anywhere without your plastic water bottle, clutching it like your life depended on it – because it very well might. You also kept the cross on you just in case, hidden under the clothes Crowley had gotten you. It wasn't really your usual style, classier than what you were used to wearing but you doubted that Crowley would go and ask your family for a suitcase of clothes. And it was better like that, you preferred that Crowley stay as far away from them as possible.

Your family was very important to you, your little sister in particular was the light of your life. You missed her terribly, but knowing she was safe would have to suffice for the time being. You didn't know if they had already noticed your disappearance, it was common for you not to answer for long weeks when you were too captivated by your research. At the very least, your little sister must have been intrigued by the lack of stupid videos that you sent her daily.

But that day, something changed in your routine. You didn't encounter any demons when you came back from the library, and when you went back to your room to take a shower before dinner, you found a midnight blue suit on your bed. A post-it note was placed on it, "Meet me for dinner at 8 p.m. C."

You briefly considered burning the note and the suit, fantasizing about the fire spreading throughout the house, burning it to the ground with all its inhabitants. But you could never in good conscience burn down the jewel that was the library, you would have other opportunities to burn buildings, preferably when you weren't inside with no idea how to escape.

Because despite all your research, the house still remained a mystery to you. The hallways shifted, doors appeared and disappeared and the water in the shower was always the perfect temperature. Sometimes you wondered if the house was sentient. After learning that demons were real, it wouldn't surprise you.

Looking at your watch, you notice that you still had half an hour before you had to meet Crowley, just enough time to take a shower. One thing Crowley had gotten right was the water pressure. And since you weren't paying the water bill, your showers had doubled in time since you arrived. That's why when you went to the dining room, your hair was still damp, droplets of water running down the back of your neck to the exposed skin of your chest.

Crowley was already waiting for you when you arrived, looking as much like the handsome devil he always was. The candle lightning due to the lack of natural light was proving to be a bigger problem than you had previously thought. Crowley glowed amidst the play of light and shadow on his face, the glint of fire in his eyes an open temptation.

But you seemed to have as much of an effect on Crowley as he had on you. He caught a breath at your arrival, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily, focusing on the lack of a shirt beneath your suit jacket.

“My eyes are up here,” you said imperially, commanding Crowley’s eyes on you. It was a mistake, the intensity of Crowley's eyes in yours was almost frightening.

“Please take a seat,” Crowley invited you, not taking his eyes off you. Not until you complied, he continued. “I heard you're acclimating well. I'm glad to hear that. Have you made any progress in your research?”

“Not yet,” you answered, willing your racing heart to calm down. Lying to a dangerous demon, the King of Hell who lied as he breathed, wasn't on your yearly bingo card, but here you were. “The amount of knowledge here is immense to take in. I'm afraid it will take me a while”

As you were talking, a nameless demon entered the room, placing a plate covered with a silver bell in front of both of you. You raised a skeptic eyebrow at Crowley, your eyes a silent interrogation.

“I’m not going to poison you, darling. Not when you’re still of use to me,”Crowley said playfully, not waiting for you to start eating.

“I am delighted to hear it,” you answered dryly, bringing a forkful of vegetables to your mouth nonetheless.. “What an hon–”

The rest of your retort died on your tongue next to the deliciousness that was the dish before you. The flavors melted on your taste buds heavenly, how ironic it was to find a piece of Paradise in the company of the King of Hell.

“Is it to your taste?” Crowley mocked, amused by your reaction.

“Did you kidnap a star chef or something?” you asked.

“I didn't even need to, all the most talented souls belong to me. How do you think they got their popularity?” Crowley answered, with an index finger pointing towards himself. “Even you, my dear. Say the world and I could make your memory immortal, your name would be known and respected by all.”

“Nice try,” you retorted. “But you know it’ll never work. My soul is worth more than anything you could potentially offer me.”

“I have all the time in the world to convince you, I won't admit defeat so easily,” Crowley said, shrugging.

Those few words made your blood run cold in your veins. No matter how charming Crowley could be, he was still a demon. A beast in a three-piece suit. He could keep you imprisoned for the rest of your life if he so desired. To get out of here alive, you could only count on yourself.

The cross in your pants pocket suddenly felt heavy, burning against your thigh. You didn't know how to get out of the house yet, but you remembered the secret passage you had found the first day before Crowley had created a permanent door in your room. Maybe there were others hidden in the house. It was definitely worth a try.

“You can always try,” you replied, matching his playful tone. “But in the meantime, I will ask you to excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

Without waiting for Crowley's answer, you left the room. But instead of heading to the bathroom, you turned right to enter the kitchen. There, you grabbed one of the bottles of red wine that was waiting to be served. You had no idea if blessed wine would have the same effect but it would be easier for you to make Crowley drink it. The words of the blessing were etched into your mind, one of the only ways you could defend yourself here, and you wasted no time in reciting them. Good thing you did because just as you finished, a demon came into the room.

“What are you doing here?” they asked suspiciously.

“Crowley asked me to grab another bottle of wine,” you replied, lifting the bottle to show it to the demon. “If there was nothing else, I’ll be on my way.”

You rushed back to the dining room as quickly as possible, not wanting to give Crowley a reason to be suspicious of your long absence.

“I grabbed this on the way back, I hope you don't mind,” you said as you entered, showing the bottle to Crowley.

“Romanée-Conti, you have expensive tastes,” Crowley noticed, seeming nonetheless appreciative.

“You told me to make myself comfortable,” you shrugged, handing the bottle to Crowley.

“I'm nothing if not a thoughtful host,” Crowley conceded graciously.

Crowley uncorked the bottle and poured the wine into two crystal glasses, the crimson red liquid swirling in the candlelight. Crowley handed you a glass, your fingers brushed, the coldness emanating from Crowley making you shiver.

“Let's make a toast to our collaboration,” Crowley suggested.

“To us,” you replied charmingly, clicking your glass against Crowley’s.

You raised the glass to your lips, waiting eagerly to see if Crowley reacted to the blessed wine. The reaction was immediate, Crowley dropped his glass which fell to the ground with a crash, wine spilling onto the hardwood floor. He held his throat in pain, the wine burning him alive from the inside. You didn't waste any time, throwing your own glass in his face and running away.

The place that immediately came to mind was the library, Crowley had banned access to the demons who were watching you, not trusting them to know the subject of your research and you had taken advantage of it to engrave a demon trap in front of the only access. This should save you some time, and given the importance Crowley placed on this room, it wouldn't be out of place if there was a passage to the outside. Better concealed than the one in your room of course, but there was no better motivation than desperation.

The heavy library door slammed behind you, shaking the foundations as you rushed towards the heart of the library. The irony of running away from Crowley in a library once again wasn't lost on you and you laughed bitterly. But at your destination, where there was a sacrificial altar you thought you could use to escape, Crowley was already waiting for you. His suit was soaked in wine, but in the darkness all you could see was blood. You tried to turn around but an invisible force stopped you, pulling you inexorably back towards Crowley.

“And here I thought we were making progress. It seems I wasn't clear enough,” Crowley said coldly, forcing you onto your knees at his feet. His voice thundered along the wall of the library, his wrath sinking into your skin. “No one escapes me. I am the King of Hell, the ruler of damned souls! I own you and it’s time you understood it.”

His eyes flashed red and he grabbed your jaw forcing your gaze to the altar as you whimpered in fear. “I could torture you, make you regret even breathing in my presence, until all you know is the pain I inflict on you. Or,”

Crowley snapped his fingers and an illusion of your little sister appeared on the altar, her golden blonde hair bathed in blood. Tears began to flow down your cheeks at the sight.

“I could go visit your family, slit their throats in their sleep and watch them choke on their own blood. I could even make a souvenir video just for you.”

“No, please, no. I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you begged. “I will never do it again, I will do whatever you want.”

“As if you had any other choice,” Crowley said harshly, pulling you by the hair to make you stand up.

Crowley dragged you over to a table and roughly forced you to sit down, iron chains closing around your ankles and a pile of books appearing in front of you.

“I expect results within the week. The consequences if you fail would not benefit you,” Crowley warned. And then he left you alone, the illusion of your dead sister a few meters away from you, her blood slowly flooding the room.

This chapter is probably one of the most violent I've written but I think it was necessary. (Mainly because violence only goes one way, I'm not used to writing that.) Crowley in season 8 was in his full evil mode and I couldn't see him letting an assassination/escape attempt go unpunished. So yeah, sorry about that.