His Favorite Plaything~ (Crowley x Reader)

Chapter 28: Transition

It's been a few months since I went out to the bar, and all has been well. I haven't felt any of the urges that Castiel was speaking about, and my personality has stayed the same, to my knowledge.

Those two facts bring me a nice little feeling of relief; maybe I can do this.

But, at the same time, it also doesn't feel right. The smoothness of the past few months is why I'm suspicious. When has my life ever gone smoothly for this long? Maybe something's up. Something big.

I stretch in my signature chair in the bunker. Sam, Dean, and I are researching a potential case for the two boys to embark on (I can't go, since it'll involve killing, which would make my soul go all demon-y).

   I've had just about enough of it, though. We can't figure out the connections between the victims, and the deaths sound like nothing we've ever seen before. After all, ripping out the veins of victims isn't exactly a common supernatural murder.

   I yawn quietly, my eyes starting to get droopy as I scan one of the various books that the library holds. I can't find anything about ripping out veins, and I'm beginning to care more about sleeping than finding out what this could be.

   At the sound of my yawn, Dean looks at me. He smiles a bit at how sleepy I look. "You tired?"

   "Mhm," I mumble halfheartedly, turning one of the hundreds of pages that the book contains.

   "Me, too. I think we should call it a night," he responds, shutting his own book. I follow suit, happy to hear that I can sleep soon.

   Sam doesn't seem to hear us. His eyes are focused on an article about one of the victims, the bright screen of his laptop illuminating his face as he stays quiet.

   "Sammy?" Dean asks, waving a hand in front of Sam's face.

   That snaps the moose out of it. He looks to Dean. "What?"

   "We were thinking about calling it a night," the squirrel responds, smiling in amusement.

   "Oh. Okay," Sam replies, slowly shutting his laptop. His face is a mixture of relief that he gets to sleep and annoyance about having to leave his research.

I rise from the table, yawning once more. "Goodnight, guys. See ya in in the morning."

I then click my fingers, causing me to teleport to my room.

"I will never get used to that!" I hear Dean yell to me from the research room.

I laugh a little in response and shut the door with a flick of my wrist.

Then, with another click of my fingers, I'm in my favorite pair of satin pajamas.

   My motivation to brush my teeth is very, very low, but I hobble out of my room and to the bathroom, anyway.

   I turn the light on with a lazy hand, squeezing the toothpaste onto my toothbrush after. I put the toothbrush into my mouth, beginning to brush my teeth.

   I stare at my reflection as the glob of toothpaste begins to turn into foam. Wow, I look like I haven't slept in a week. My hair is all over the place, my eyelids are dropped, and the movements that it requires to brush one's teeth look very sluggish as I perform them.

   After an acceptable amount of time passes, I spit the foam into the sink, rubbing my eye with the hand that's not lazily clutching my toothbrush.

   I rinse off the toothbrush as well as the sink, putting the toothbrush away after.

   I then slump out of the bathroom, switching off the light.