Discovering Hell [COMPLETED]

Chapter Fifteen

The clock on the wall ticked slowly, causing Crowley's eye to twitch. The thing was ugly anyway--brown with antlers sticking out the top--and the audacity of the object was seriously starting to irk the king. He paced back and forth across the ugly carpet, wishing that he could make the stupid thing shut up, and counting down the last ten minutes of the Winchester's allotted time.

Meg's eyes followed him as he walked in front of her. "I told you," she managed to cough out. Crowley was right about the broken ribs. "I told you they wouldn't come for me."

Crowley stopped his pacing and glared at her. "They still have ten minutes."

Meg scoffed. "Yeah, right. They don't care about me. Admit it: you were wrong."

Crowley's jaw twitched and he continued with his pacing. He glanced down at Meg one more time and actually felt pity for her. He couldn't imagine not thinking anybody would come for you. Sure, he didn't have an angel or two hunters on his side. But he did have loyal followers that would die for him (or he liked to pretend they would). And the Winchester's had even pulled through once or twice. Crowley had never been...hopeless.

Crowley kicked himself for his momentary pity and for his stupidity. He should've brought back John Winchester, or somebody else that Sam and Dean would do something idiotic for. He was eighty-three percent sure that Castiel really cared for her. But maybe the angel's celestial internal compass kept him from doing anything that would get him in more trouble with his family upstairs.

Meg glared at the bed post she was cuffed to and cursed herself for getting tangled up in this mess in the first place. All she had to do was not fall in love with an angel and all this never would have happened. Granted, if she hadn't led a terrible life, sold her soul, and gone to hell, she could have avoided being hand cuffed to a bed in a crappy motel room with the king of Hell who hated her probably more than she hated herself. She was still thinking about how stupid this whole thing was when the phone rang.

Crowley grinned in Meg's direction, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "Hello, boys. You sure are cutting it close." He listened for a minute. "Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Dean? Oh sorry, no, you don't." He grinned wickedly and Meg rolled her eyes. "I'm assuming you called for a reason. Either you're willing to met with me and save the winged monkey's girlfriend, or you're calling to gloat about the fact that you're all so morally righteous and won't trade my daughter for a demon." He stopped his rant. "Really?" He scoffed. "Well of course I'm surprised. I didn't actually think you were going to agree. " He shook his head. "No I'm not arguing with you. I'm just...shocked. Where are we meeting? Ah yes. There's a large wheat field just outside of Lawrence, Kansas--I'm assuming you know where that is? You have until sunset." He hung up the phone with a dignified smirk on his face. "Seems like your knight in shining armor is coming through today, princess."

Meg couldn't help but feel a little bit of her hope coming back. She knew it was probably going to be a trap and somebody would probably get hurt, but she was glad. She wouldn't be stuck in this dumb motel room forever with these dumb demons that sent her dirty looks and hit her every time they had the chance.

Crowley bent down and undid one of the cuffs around her wrists so he could pull her to her feet and away from the bed. "Seems like he really does care. Admit it: you were wrong."