𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑 ⛦𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞⛦

Dean's Got Issues

Chapter 12: Dean's Got Some Issues

It had been a few months since the three's rendezvous at the bar when Dean stormed into Needham Asylum, eyes wide with panic laced in his features. The man had only been in the building a few times, but it hadn't changed much. It was still creepy. He was only there to see Crowley; walking his happy ass upstairs as he walked into the man's bedroom without knocking. Luckily, for once, it wasn't another person walking in on Crowley and Margo going at it. 

"Man, I got some problems." He started, walking toward the man that was pouring himself a drink. 

"Yes, please, come in." 

Dean ignored Crowley's sass as he started pacing back and forth. He ran his hands through his hair in anxiety. "I did a lot of bad shit the past few months. But I just- I can't get that girl out of my head. The-the blonde one. From the bar. What was her name? Monica? Meredith?" 

"Margo?" Crowley assisted, walking closer to the hunter. 

"Margo!" Dean clapped, pointing toward the man. "I dunno man. I just feel guilty. I did horrible things to her."

Crowley tried his best not to let his amusement be known, but it got the better of him. Scoffing, he laughed loudly, looking down at the floor. Looking back up, he was met with a confused Dean Winchester. "Dean." He said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Everything you did to her...she wanted." 

He talked to the man like he was a toddler and Dean shrugged his hand off, readjusting his pull over. "How do you know that? She could've been going through some like...existential crisis or some crap!" He exclaimed, pulling the collar of his shirt away from his throat. "That wasn't normal, Crowley. Humans don't just do that." 

"Oh, I assure you they do." Crowley snickered, knowing Margo liked those things long before she was a demon. "Margo was like that far before she was a demon."

Everything was silent for a moment, Crowley's focus staying on his glass of whiskey. To the right of him, Dean was staring, a finger raised with his lips poised to speak. It took him a moment to actually get the words out. "Wait...what?!" 

Crowley chuckled to himself and turned to face the man, noticing someone come in the room over Dean's shoulder. He didn't say anything, instead continuing the conversation. "You didn't know that?" 

The demon was well aware that Dean hadn't known that. Although, if he'd been paying more attention, he might've figured it out. The way Margo's wounds healed. How she drank more liquor than an alcoholic trucker. That glint every demon seemed to have in their eye. 

"She's the Queen of Hell, darling. You couldn't take advantage of her if you tried."

While Dean blabbered, stammering to try and come up with a response, the person behind him pushed their hands in their pockets. Flannel ruffled with the movement, his eyebrows raised in surprise. He wasn't sure what he just walked in on, but he knew he'd never heard of a 'Queen of Hell.'

"Okay, I'm gonna...I'm gonna need you to repeat that." 

Before Crowley could respond, a person appeared in front of him. In a blur of black clothing and blonde hair, a woman was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist. Crowley was only slightly caught off guard, mainly due to the company, but he gazed at her regardless. Heart pumping extra blood through his body, the two held an intense gaze. One hand holding her up, his other still had a firm grasp on his glass. 

"Hello, king." 

"Hello, kitten." He rasps, looking the woman up and down. She looked absolutely decadent in a pair of leather pants and a blood-red tank top. "We have company."