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faerie_wish13Title: Royal Wrath, or Blame It On Dean Winchester
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Crowley, implied Crowley/Dean
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: Faerie Wish 13: Crafts
Word Count: 1,410
Date Written: 30 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: Crowley's fallen for Dean Winchester's mess yet again.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"The boys must be bloody nuts," Crowley muttered underneath his breath, a dark sourness filling his speech and temper.
"I thought you already said they were, Your Highness?" one of his closest underlings asked.
Hisses erupted through the shadows as Demons scurried away from the King. Sizzling sounds punctuated the night as fires extinguished and Demons, both small and large, ran for their very existence. Most knew better than to prompt Crowley to argue more when the Winchester brothers had somehow managed to gain the upper hand on him, and all but one were now fleeing as speedily as they could go.
That one stood and looked at confusion at the King of Hell. "You have said that before, haven't you?" he questioned, causing some of the younger Demons to slow just long enough to snicker at him. All knew he'd never speak another word after tonight.
Crowley glowered at him. "You impudent -- Wait until I've managed to free myself!" He struggled against the threads binding his hands.
"But . . . " The Demon frowned, his horns and wings drawing downward. "You have said that before, haven't you?"
"YES, YOU BLOODY IMBECILE!" Crowley's roar made Hell itself shake and spent the Demons speeding further and faster away. The one who had dared to speak up now looked around himself and his King, realizing both that he was alone and that the King's full fury was about to be unleashed upon him.
He tried to shrug, though he shook from the tips of his horns through the blackened soles of his hoofed feet. "I -- I just thought -- Well, they are nuts, of course, Your Majesty, and any one's nuts compared to you!" His furry knees knocked together. He tried to think swiftly of how to earn his way back onto the King's good side -- or at least his better side for all the Demons knew he didn't really have a good side. If he could somehow appeal to Crowley's ego, perhaps he could still live to see another night. "You are so brilliant, after all."
"Yeah, I'm a veritable, bloody genius," Crowley muttered, wiggling his fingers and flicking his wrists. "BOLLOCKS!" he thundered. Geysers of fire shot up out of the deepest parts of Hell at his roar. "Wait 'til I get a finger free -- "
"You can just think, Sir, and I'm sure it will fall off. Eep! No one can stand against your genius and your power! One thought from you could end the world!"
Crowley glowered fiercely at the quaking, lower Demon. "One thought from me will end your world," he snapped, and finally managed to get his thumb free from the thread wrapping around both of his hands. Crimson fire sprang from his thumbnail and exploded into the Demon. "There." He scowled. "At least I'll never have to hear your lowly, pathetic mouth again."
He sighed, knowing full well that whereas he may have silenced a single, lowly Demon, he would hear Dean Winchester's mouth again. He couldn't get that mortal to shut up no matter what he did, and yet again, Dean had managed to land him into a cacophony of mess! He strained his fingers against the thread, growling. His eyes flashed between red and black, and Hell shook and trembled with his rage.
A head emerged from the nearby wall. It flashed onto its own natural hue for one moment before copying the wall again, but it was too late. Crowley tisked. He'd seen the Demon; he'd spotted another easy target for his rage. A second Demon exploded, and Hell shook again as millions upon millions of surviving Demons raced harder away.
The first Demon to fall to his wrath had been right, of course, not that Crowley would ever admit that aloud. Freeing himself of these bonds was as easy as wishing the bloody contraption off of his hands, but that would prove that a mere mortal could do something that the King of Hell could not. He roared his rage like a caged lion and snatched his hands against the threads. They were beginning to fray and would break soon, but that still would not make him successful.
But then, what did it matter if he was successful at a mere game the mortals cherished when he remained unsuccessful in the larger scheme of things? He had yet to succeed in completely turning Dean to his way of thinking. He could kill Moose, of course. That would be the easiest answer, but it would also make Dean hate him.
Thunder roared and earthquakes split open the lower levels of Hell as he recalled one of Dean's favorite jokes. The bloody mortal claimed that he could easily take over Hell and make himself ruler if ever he chose. That was a bald-faced lie, but what worried Crowley was something far worse, far worse and far more inane. He should not care what a mortal thought of him, let alone a hunter. He should have killed the brothers decades ago. They never should have lived to see adulthood, in truth. But instead he hated and secretly even cowered at the idea that Dean might one day hate him. He'd given the mortal far too much power, far too much power over him!
Trying to appease him was even why he was still playing this stupid game! Dean had caught him actually looking at threads in a store earlier and had smarted off as he always did. Crowley, thinking he might be able to excuse his clearly vivid interest in the cloths, had claimed that he'd once sewn and created all sorts of fine suits. He did create fine suits, of course, but he wished his entire wardrobe into being. He thought of an article, and it appeared, often already on his body. It was always a perfect fit, but he never had to touch a needle to it.
But of course, sewing had not been enough for the eldest Winchester brother. He'd then picked up a spool of thread and proceeded to do all sorts of funny things with the thread while strewing it between his fingers and thumbs. It had looked quite like he was trying to capture himself, but with a mere flick of his wrists, he'd freed himself from the very trap he'd seemed to be creating. They called it the Cat's Cradle, and the humans seemed to find it fun!
Crowley roared again and let the thread go up in a single cloud of smoke. He didn't need to play some stupid game to appease a mortal; he didn't need to appease a mortal at all! He should go after Dean right now, he thought, find him, and bend him to his will. Instead, releasing another scream of anguished frustration, Crowley threw himself into a regal throne that appeared in the mountainside, created by one of his fashionable thoughts.
The old fashioned crown on his head and the ruby scepter in his hand brought him no comfort, however. Even the pillows seemed hard against his buttocks and back, though they were made of the finest silk and ostrich feathers. He slammed the scepter down onto the ground, and cracks ran through Hell itself. Damn it, no mortal was meant to have this much power over the King of Hell!!
He should kill him, and he would, he vowed, the next time they met. But for now, daylight was coming, and he had other plans that required his attention tomorrow night. He yawned, feigning sudden disinterest, and tapped his scepter on the ground again. This time, he felt the trembles pass through the Earth, spreading all throughout Hell and reaching up. The so-called game was called the Cat's Cradle, so he aimed his power for Egypt with fire flickering in his dark eyes. The mortals' screams were like music to him as earthquakes and fires ravished their homeland.
"Blame it on Dean Winchester." He threw back his head and laughed. The bold sound echoed throughout Hell, causing some of the more naive and younger Demons to look up in curiosity. The older ones stayed away, however, and kept their thoughts and very presences to themselves. Dean thought he could influence the King, but that mistaken thought had just caused the human species to lose a million more of their number. They didn't want the Demon population decreasing too, so they stayed gone for the rest of the night.
The End
Author: Katya Starling
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters/Pairing: Crowley, implied Crowley/Dean
Rating: PG/K+
Challenge/Prompt: Faerie Wish 13: Crafts
Word Count: 1,410
Date Written: 30 March 2020
Warnings: None
Summary: Crowley's fallen for Dean Winchester's mess yet again.
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
"The boys must be bloody nuts," Crowley muttered underneath his breath, a dark sourness filling his speech and temper.
"I thought you already said they were, Your Highness?" one of his closest underlings asked.
Hisses erupted through the shadows as Demons scurried away from the King. Sizzling sounds punctuated the night as fires extinguished and Demons, both small and large, ran for their very existence. Most knew better than to prompt Crowley to argue more when the Winchester brothers had somehow managed to gain the upper hand on him, and all but one were now fleeing as speedily as they could go.
That one stood and looked at confusion at the King of Hell. "You have said that before, haven't you?" he questioned, causing some of the younger Demons to slow just long enough to snicker at him. All knew he'd never speak another word after tonight.
Crowley glowered at him. "You impudent -- Wait until I've managed to free myself!" He struggled against the threads binding his hands.
"But . . . " The Demon frowned, his horns and wings drawing downward. "You have said that before, haven't you?"
"YES, YOU BLOODY IMBECILE!" Crowley's roar made Hell itself shake and spent the Demons speeding further and faster away. The one who had dared to speak up now looked around himself and his King, realizing both that he was alone and that the King's full fury was about to be unleashed upon him.
He tried to shrug, though he shook from the tips of his horns through the blackened soles of his hoofed feet. "I -- I just thought -- Well, they are nuts, of course, Your Majesty, and any one's nuts compared to you!" His furry knees knocked together. He tried to think swiftly of how to earn his way back onto the King's good side -- or at least his better side for all the Demons knew he didn't really have a good side. If he could somehow appeal to Crowley's ego, perhaps he could still live to see another night. "You are so brilliant, after all."
"Yeah, I'm a veritable, bloody genius," Crowley muttered, wiggling his fingers and flicking his wrists. "BOLLOCKS!" he thundered. Geysers of fire shot up out of the deepest parts of Hell at his roar. "Wait 'til I get a finger free -- "
"You can just think, Sir, and I'm sure it will fall off. Eep! No one can stand against your genius and your power! One thought from you could end the world!"
Crowley glowered fiercely at the quaking, lower Demon. "One thought from me will end your world," he snapped, and finally managed to get his thumb free from the thread wrapping around both of his hands. Crimson fire sprang from his thumbnail and exploded into the Demon. "There." He scowled. "At least I'll never have to hear your lowly, pathetic mouth again."
He sighed, knowing full well that whereas he may have silenced a single, lowly Demon, he would hear Dean Winchester's mouth again. He couldn't get that mortal to shut up no matter what he did, and yet again, Dean had managed to land him into a cacophony of mess! He strained his fingers against the thread, growling. His eyes flashed between red and black, and Hell shook and trembled with his rage.
A head emerged from the nearby wall. It flashed onto its own natural hue for one moment before copying the wall again, but it was too late. Crowley tisked. He'd seen the Demon; he'd spotted another easy target for his rage. A second Demon exploded, and Hell shook again as millions upon millions of surviving Demons raced harder away.
The first Demon to fall to his wrath had been right, of course, not that Crowley would ever admit that aloud. Freeing himself of these bonds was as easy as wishing the bloody contraption off of his hands, but that would prove that a mere mortal could do something that the King of Hell could not. He roared his rage like a caged lion and snatched his hands against the threads. They were beginning to fray and would break soon, but that still would not make him successful.
But then, what did it matter if he was successful at a mere game the mortals cherished when he remained unsuccessful in the larger scheme of things? He had yet to succeed in completely turning Dean to his way of thinking. He could kill Moose, of course. That would be the easiest answer, but it would also make Dean hate him.
Thunder roared and earthquakes split open the lower levels of Hell as he recalled one of Dean's favorite jokes. The bloody mortal claimed that he could easily take over Hell and make himself ruler if ever he chose. That was a bald-faced lie, but what worried Crowley was something far worse, far worse and far more inane. He should not care what a mortal thought of him, let alone a hunter. He should have killed the brothers decades ago. They never should have lived to see adulthood, in truth. But instead he hated and secretly even cowered at the idea that Dean might one day hate him. He'd given the mortal far too much power, far too much power over him!
Trying to appease him was even why he was still playing this stupid game! Dean had caught him actually looking at threads in a store earlier and had smarted off as he always did. Crowley, thinking he might be able to excuse his clearly vivid interest in the cloths, had claimed that he'd once sewn and created all sorts of fine suits. He did create fine suits, of course, but he wished his entire wardrobe into being. He thought of an article, and it appeared, often already on his body. It was always a perfect fit, but he never had to touch a needle to it.
But of course, sewing had not been enough for the eldest Winchester brother. He'd then picked up a spool of thread and proceeded to do all sorts of funny things with the thread while strewing it between his fingers and thumbs. It had looked quite like he was trying to capture himself, but with a mere flick of his wrists, he'd freed himself from the very trap he'd seemed to be creating. They called it the Cat's Cradle, and the humans seemed to find it fun!
Crowley roared again and let the thread go up in a single cloud of smoke. He didn't need to play some stupid game to appease a mortal; he didn't need to appease a mortal at all! He should go after Dean right now, he thought, find him, and bend him to his will. Instead, releasing another scream of anguished frustration, Crowley threw himself into a regal throne that appeared in the mountainside, created by one of his fashionable thoughts.
The old fashioned crown on his head and the ruby scepter in his hand brought him no comfort, however. Even the pillows seemed hard against his buttocks and back, though they were made of the finest silk and ostrich feathers. He slammed the scepter down onto the ground, and cracks ran through Hell itself. Damn it, no mortal was meant to have this much power over the King of Hell!!
He should kill him, and he would, he vowed, the next time they met. But for now, daylight was coming, and he had other plans that required his attention tomorrow night. He yawned, feigning sudden disinterest, and tapped his scepter on the ground again. This time, he felt the trembles pass through the Earth, spreading all throughout Hell and reaching up. The so-called game was called the Cat's Cradle, so he aimed his power for Egypt with fire flickering in his dark eyes. The mortals' screams were like music to him as earthquakes and fires ravished their homeland.
"Blame it on Dean Winchester." He threw back his head and laughed. The bold sound echoed throughout Hell, causing some of the more naive and younger Demons to look up in curiosity. The older ones stayed away, however, and kept their thoughts and very presences to themselves. Dean thought he could influence the King, but that mistaken thought had just caused the human species to lose a million more of their number. They didn't want the Demon population decreasing too, so they stayed gone for the rest of the night.
The End
