I See Red // Crowley

08 || WHAT THE HELL'S A DUTCH BABY?

Two weeks had gone painfully by and yet Crowley still hadn't seen hide nor hair of Selina. Not a single text, call or even a summon had been fired his way by her. Or anyone bearing the surname Winchester for that matter.

He was becoming antsy. Impatient. Scared that Selina might never be able to forgive him for the events that transpired between herself and Damien, who Crowley still wished he'd killed slowly as it was his fault all this was happening in the first place. Had that complete and utter moron not gone and kidnapped Claire, who was basically Selina's little sister, then maybe Crowley wouldn't have spent the last two weeks sulking around his palace, miserable and on the verge of insanity.

Maybe he wouldn't have been left stewing in the false hope that perhaps his days were off and he was still inside that two week wheelhouse that Alex had mentioned. Of course, he knew his calendar was correct. After all, he was punctual like that, but still, you can't fault a guy for dreaming now can you?

Crowley was just hanging onto the hope that perhaps it would take Selina just a little while longer to decide to talk to him again given that the situation hadn't involved only her. That maybe because Claire had been involved, that the situation had fallen higher on the ladder and deserved a lengthier punishment than Sam not looking for her in Purgatory did.

Chances are Claire was the reasoning behind the entire silent treatment he was receiving as something told Crowely that Selina wouldn't have even been phased, let alone angry enough to freeze him out had Damien only kidnapped her.

If that had been the case then nothing would have changed between the two of them at all. It would still be drinks, near kisses and texts all round like it had once been. Unfortunately for him though, that wasn't the case. Therefore he hadn't heard a single peep from Selina since that fateful day and to tell the truth... Crowley wasn't quite sure how much longer he could keep going like this.

Even his subjects had started to notice he wasn't his usual self. Hard not to when they'd be in the middle of trials and punishments, the latter being a personal favourite of the King, and yet Crowley would zone out completely, appearing like he'd rather be anywhere else but there.

Obviously they didn't know exactly why he was so out of it these days, although they had an inkling, but they were hoping that whatever it was would sort itself out eventually. They couldn't believe they were thinking this but they actually missed the old Crowley, even if he did use them as dartboards as at least that way he wasn't slouched on his throne, frowning and with his eyes glued to his phone like a teenager instead of doing his job.

"Sir?" Guthrie's slightly confused voice seemed to snap Crowley out of wallowing in his own self pity. The King's head slowly lifted from his phone as his brow furrowed a little in question, to which Guthrie replied with, "The trial, sir."

Following the brief cock of Guthrie's head, Crowley's tired gaze came to land on the row of demons patiently awaiting their sentencing. For crimes they swore up and down they didn't commit and to be honest, some of them probably were innocent but this was Hell-related after all, so they can't exactly expect a fair trial. Sighing, Crowley beckoned the next fear riddled demon forth, holding out his hand that was soon met with a clipboard.

Another sigh escaped Crowley's lips, his eyes falling to the parchment in his hand as he brought it towards him, flicking briefly through the vast amount of pages. He began to read, or more so skim, over the unnecessarily small writing that riddled them, telling him in excruciating and over-complicated detail exactly what the demon before him was being accused of.

Truth be told, Crowley's mind wasn't taking in a single word of what was in front of him. Unless it was a letter written to him by Selina, one telling him that all was forgiven and that she was ready to talk to him again, then he simply didn't care what the contents were about. Fed up already, he flipped the pages all the way back to the first one, tossing it aside and finding a touch of satisfaction when it clattered against the floor and was no longer his problem.