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Something happened that day. Castiel tried and tried but he couldn't push it out of his mind. He went as far as spending days at a time away from the bunker, away from Kansas, away from... It doesn't matter. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't want to, but he couldn't stop himself. I mean, he was an angel... And well... Crowley, was a demon. His phone rang four times a day. Every time he checked it, his screen read 666. Crowley, calling from Hell. But how could he face him after all the nasty things he did. And that wasn't all. How could he face him after enjoying all the nasty things he did. He knew that he could only keep up this ghosting for a few more days. He would have to face the King soon enough. To be honest, he was looking forward to seeing him again.
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After three more dreadful days of pretending he was non existent, Castiel heard a knock at his motel door. He had assumed that it was Sam or Dean finally giving an interest at his sudden disappearance. He walked over an turned the handle, but then got a sudden flurry of emotions, what if it was Crowley? He removed his hand and brought his head slowly down to the peephole. Sure enough, there was the demon. Dressed well in his best suit and tie, hair combed, holding a single black rose. Cas was stuck in awe for a moment at how perfect the sight he was looking at truly was. He couldn't face him now. What they did was disgusting and it was wrong, even though it felt so right. He turned and hastily ran toward the bed in the middle of the living room. He decided that he could just pretend that he wasn't there. He flopped down and shut his eyes. The black of his inner lids consumed him just as well as his memory of that magical evening. His mind flashed with images of Crowley, sweating, gasping, thrusting. His eyes popped open and he shot straight up to find Crowley standing in front of him holding the rose out.
"I have magic love, I don't need doors." Crowley said softly trying to offer the rose to Cas.
"Then why'd you bother knocking at all?" The angel had turned red up t his ears as he took the black rose from the demon and examined it. The pedals glistened where they were still moist, and the thorns sat readily on the stem ready to defend it's beauty.
"Because it's the polite thing to do Castiel, and not all demons have to be repulsive creatures. I try not to be. For you at least." This time it was Crowley's face who changed shades. "Oh, um, the rose. I had Rowena put a spell on it. It won't ever die, much like my feelings for you."
