I Am Not An Abomination: A Supernatural!Universe X Reader Adventure

Meanwhile, Back In Hell... (or close to it)

      Asmodeus locked you up inside a black barred cell. You tried to grasp the bars weakly, but it sent a shock of pain through your being and you jumped back. Asmodeus didn't say anything as he left. No gloating, no teasing, no victory speech. You almost wished he would. But then, he and the demons left you all alone in the prison block. You were so weak you couldn't even cry. So you sat against the rough cement wall.

      You didn't think this was Hell. It didn't smell bad enough to be Hell. And too bright. So you assumed you were still topside. You tried to stand up to look out the little barred window above the plank bed. You didn't even get past leaning forward before you collapsed back into your first position. You let out a frustrated, pained groan.

      "Sorry, champ, no getting out of here," a familiar thick-accented voice said from the cell behind your back.

      "Crowley?" you asked wearily, using as much strength as you could muster to power your voice to carry over.

      "Who wants to know?" Crowley asked with a snarl, his voice was muffled by the divide.

      "Y/n," you managed to squeak out," It's Y/n."

      "Y/n? You sound horrible, Y/n," Crowley noted with surprise," What happened?"

      "Asmo," was all you could get out before your voice gave out.

      "Ah, yes, the Southern peacock," Crowley muttered," How did he get you away from Squirrel and Moose?"

      "He attacked the house... we were weak... he hurt Sam'n Dean'n Bobby..." you breathed out.

      "Incredible," Crowley sighed, then said more cheerfully," Well, hopefully they'll arrive to rescue you soon and get me out as well."

      "Heh," was all you could manage.

      "You don't sound too good, Y/n," Crowley said worriedly," What's happening?"

      "I'm... weak... bout to... pass out..." you said, then felt your head loll to the side because you couldn't hold it up anymore.

      "Y/n? Y/n, don't pass out," Crowley ordered," Don't pass out. Come on, keep talking to me. Uh-uh, what's your favorite color?"

      "Color?" you asked, then replied," F/c I guess..."

      "Wow, mine too," Crowley said, and you could tell by his tone he was trying desperately to keep you awake by acting as cheerful as he could muster," What about animals? What's your favorite animal?"

      "Fav/ani," you murmured.

      "I like Hellhounds. Big, nasty, always drooling," Crowley said, then searched frantically for something else to ask," What's your least favorite kind of monster?"

      "Uh.................."

      "Stay with me, Y/n," Crowley called sternly," Least favorite monster."

      "Least/fav/mons," you said loudly, sitting up straighter, trying to wake up," They eat people."

     "Yes, that is a turn off," Crowley agreed.

      "Do... you have a favorite Hellhound?" you asked, wanting to ask Crowley a question.

      "My favorite would be Princess," Crowley asked," She's my best, most reliable soldier."

      "Princess... funny name for a Hellhound," you said.

      "That's my nickname for her," Crowley said," The demons have to call her by her Hellspeak name, Uzrimok."