Star Fall / Book One (SPN Fan Fiction)

Chapter Twelve

"W-wait. How long were you in hell?" Sam gently investigates. Newly empathetic in fear of the things she's seen. The things she's done.

"A year and a half." Kai stops. "Well." Looking up in thought. "Make that a hundred and eighty years. Give or take." He let out a breath of awe, disbelief spilling across both men's genetically attractive faces. "I uh, had to spend sometime down there in return for a favor. So, I figured I'd make the best of things."

"Someone as beautiful as you in a grimy place like hell? That must have been one shitty eternity." Dean comments.

"The eternal torture wasn't that bad. It was the fight for the throne that was...well, hell." Sam let out a preposterous breath.

"Not possible." Kyiah raised her slit brow in offense. "No way you were runner up for Hell's Throne."

"You wanna bet?" She dares. "I ran with the big dogs for a loooong time." Seeing their hesitance for faith, she decides to drop a name. "Call up Crowley. He'll tell you all about it."

"Crowley?" Dean cross examines, accentuating his prominent features, looking to Sam who wore the same denouncing expression. Turning back to Kyiah. "You, know Crowley?" She grins, bowing her head in admittance. He set down his empty glass and took off down the hall. Kyiah looks to Sam, sharing a solemn moment before he too, got up, and left.

"Crowley!" Dean bellows as if scolding a dog, charging into the dungeon.

"I'm here, squirrel." His chalky British voice made known. Buttoning the crest of his suit to straighten out his red tie, standing just before demon trap beneath the metal interrogation table. The natural arch of his burly brows bring forward the short trim of his salt and pepper facial hair on his rounded face, and dark, thin, head of hair. His maturely snubbed nose lined above fine lips and his stout posture. "No need for the whistle." His aged vessel scorns. Kyiah's dainty footsteps silence the hidden room as she enters the opened bookshelves. Crowley's heavy features curl upward against his facial hair, shuttering his eyes low. A crude grin sprawling across his scruffy cheeks. "Hello, Tsia."

"Tsia?" Dean repeats, suddenly breathless. Connecting the crossed wires around her mystery. His heart sky rockets. Remembering where he'd met her. How he knows her. Who she was. He rotates, wearing a marveling stare. "As in?"

"Tsia Van Helsing." Crowley finishes. Kyiah regally raises her face, exuding a personal bitterness as she lay her eyes on The Demon King.

"Hello, Fergus." She greets in a low decibel.

"My, MY. What a PLEASURE it is to see your stature again, love." She gave a flat scowl, crossing her arms. "You've aged quiet well..." He exhaled an astonished huff. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"You're too kind." She sarcastically bites.

"Oh sweetie, I can show you kind...and it'll be the best kind you'll ever-"

"Alright, enough with the icky foreplay." Crowley shot Dean a look of intrigue.

"A bit flustered there are we, sport?" He jeers, verbally wiggling his way beneath Dean's skin.

"Just..trying to wrap my head around some new information." Dean's polar comment chills the dungeon's walls.

"Ohhh. Trouble in paradise? It happens." He moves his eyes. "A lot more with the Hardy Boys around." He directs to Kai, refusing to stray from her apathetic attitude.

"So, is it true?" Sam broke in.

"Yes." Crowley answered without haste, watching the boys flabbergasted faces. He glances around the room. "I may, have answered a tad too quick. Is what true?" His accent licks bluntly. Bringing Dean to impatiently tread forward.