His Favorite Plaything~ (Crowley x Reader)

Chapter 10: The Heist

The rest of the night goes by in a blur of more (y/f/s). Sam and Dean don't bother me; they mostly just hang out in their study, probably researching my kind. I'm grateful that that research is keeping them occupied, though. Because if they had talked to me, my guilt levels would spike, seeing as how I'm gonna steal from them tonight.

I glance at the clock after finishing yet another season of (y/f/s). My stomach does a somersault as the blood red numbers of the Winchesters' alarm clock reads 3:30.

In another half hour, I'll start looking. In another half hour, the danger levels will spike. In another half hour, I have to see to it that Crowley gets what he wants: Information.

I huff. He knows where the Winchesters live. He has teleportation powers. Why can't he just get the information he wants himself?

Oh, that's right. He just likes to be lazy.

I know that this thought should make my hatred levels for Crowley increase, but it doesn't. I grit my teeth in frustration. What the hell (no pun intended) has gotten into me?

I run my hands down my face, heart beating quicker than normal.

I shouldn't be doing this. I really shouldn't be. I just had to give in. I'm a freaking delicate flower.

I look up at the ceiling. Ya hear that, Crowley? I'm a delicate flower. I hope you're happy with yourself.

I get lost in my thoughts for who knows how long, and by the time I look at the clock again, it's 4:01.

Crap. A minute late. Oh, well.

I heave myself out of bed, grab a flashlight that Crowley had supplied me with during his visit, and tiptoe out of my room and down the hall. I make sure to be extra quiet as I pass the Winchesters' rooms.

I can hear soft snoring coming from Sam's room as I pass it, which is comforting. A small sigh of relief escapes my lips.

However, when I approach Dean's room, all I can hear is a whole lot of nothing.

I gulp nervously. Maybe he just doesn't snore. That's a thing.

I eventually get to the Winchesters' study and flick the flashlight on.

I use the beam of light to see as I scan the spines of the books on the shelf that I'm examining.

There's some on vampires, some on werewolves, some on demons and angels... These boys have got everything.

My eyes fall on a book with the title: Everything You Need to Know About Purgatory.

A smile crosses my lips.

Bingo.

I take the book out of its spot and place it on the table that's near the bookshelf. Pride swells up in my chest.

Crowley will be proud of me.

As soon as I think that, my eyes widen. I rapidly shake my head to myself. Since when do I care if that bastard is proud of me?

   Sighing quietly, I look for another book. Two should probably do the trick.

   And I find another one that's about purgatory. It's titled: Every Species That Resides in Purgatory.

   That could be useful. I reach out to grab it, and as soon as my fingers wrap around the spine of the book...

   "(Y/N)?" a groggy, deep voice asks from behind me. "What are you doing?"

   Shit.

   "Dean," I say, not turning around. I keep my hand on the book, my muscles tense. "I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to find a book to read. You have a very...interesting library, I must say." That's when I gather up the courage and turn around to face him, letting go of the book.

   "Do you—" Dean begins, but doesn't finish his sentence. His jaw hangs open slightly, and he's reaching in his pocket for something.

   He pulls out a knife, and my heart leaps to my throat. I recognize it as the demon blade.

   How did he find out..?

   Play dumb. Now.

   "Dean, what are you—" I start to say, but Dean cuts me off by grabbing me and pinning me against the wall, holding the knife up to my throat.

   "Who are you really?" he spits, hostility in his voice.

   I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. I can't lie now. Or else I'll be killed.

   I sigh. "I didn't lie about my name. My name's really (Y/N). But how did you find out about me being a—"

   Dean interrupts me. "A demon? Your eyes, dumbass."

   Oh, shit. Forgot to remind my eyes. I consider kicking myself, but I don't. How could I be so stupid?

   "So, (Y/N)," Dean hisses, emphasizing my name as if it's a pain for him to utter, "what did you come here for?"

   When I don't answer right away, Dean presses the blade to my neck, hard enough to leave a small cut.

   My breath catches in my throat, and I give in. "Information," I breathe. "On purgatory."

   "Who sent you to obtain said information?" Dean asks, moving the blade of the knife across my neck. He doesn't cut me, he's just trying to make me nervous.

   I close my eyes, not wanting to give Crowley's identity away. Who knows the amount of torture I'll get if I do.

   "WHO SENT YOU?!" Dean roars, making me flinch as tears roll down my face.

   "My King!" I blurt out, immediately feeling ashamed.

   "Crowley..," Dean mumbles to himself. "Of course that low-life bastard would do that."

   That's when Sam comes into the room, seeing the situation that I'm in. "Dean..?" he asks tiredly. "What's going on?"

   "She's a demon, Sam," Dean responds, not taking his eyes off of me. "(Y/N)'s a demon."

   Sam's posture straightens, wide awake. He dashes over and sees my eyes, jaw clenching in anger. "You lied to us..."

   "And she came to smuggle info on purgatory for Crowley," Dean growls.

   Sam frustratedly runs a hand through his hair. "Of course Crowley would have something to do with this..."

   Dean then drags me somewhere, Sam following.

   We stop in front of a room, and I can see through the window in the door that it's some kind of holding room for demons. There's a huge Devil's Trap drawn on the floor and a chair in the middle of said Devil's Trap. Handcuffs and binds hang off of the chair for future use. There's also a table that holds all kinds of weapons.

   Dean practically throws me into the chair and binds me to it, all of the binds having a Devil's Trap etched into them, meaning that I couldn't escape even if I tried.

   Dean grabs holy water off of the table, unscrewing the cap and sloshing some onto me.

   The burn is unimaginable. I scream, the water sizzling my skin.

   "There'll be more where that came from if you don't answer every single question we have for you," Dean states.

   I nod fearfully, tears mixing in with the holy water that's dripping off my face.

   This did not go according to plan.