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hopefulfuturenovelauthor · 1 year

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Panic Room

Crowley x reader (gn) part 1

about 5,000 words. I hope you all enjoy and please do not copy my work, thanks!

Warnings: read through at like 1:00 am once so probably many mistakes, canon violence, the supernatural, angst (I guess), and language. Also slight warning, I’m planning on making this a 3 part/ maybe short 4th part mini series, but I take forever to write anything, this has just been sitting in my drafts for a couple of months.

Panic Room

Hell Raising

Hair Raising

I’m ready for the worst

So frightening

Face whitening

Fear that you can’t reverse

Welcome to the Panic Room

Where all your darkest fears are going to come for you …

Seven and a half months. For you a total of 75 years of brutal, unrelenting torture. Hell did not treat you well and to call you bitter would not only be offensive but also the largest understatement of the millennium.

You loved humanity, you loved your life, and you loved those in your life. Despite this, anger was all you could feel toward the people that used to bring you the most joy. The ones that made you laugh, that made you a better person, and left you behind. You didn’t even know if they knew.

You died. You died and as your deal had stated; you were going to hell. Readying yourself for the worst did nothing to help in the end. The place was so frightening at first, but with time you became used to the fear. It was nothing anymore. Your only goal in life was to never be afraid again. You knew what you needed, but more importantly, you knew what you craved.

You wanted them to pay. You made the deal for them. You made the deal with his crossroad demons. You took the price when the one that fucked up refused to take responsibility for his actions.

You sacrificed everything. You lost your will to live and more. You didn’t want to hurt just anyone you wanted to hurt them. You wanted them to feel every moment of your torture and then some. You didn’t want revenge, you wanted justice.

“Belial, the wicked one, it’s great to finally see you, however, I had been hoping I’d be able to put a name to a face. Is the mask really necessary?” Crowley stalled.

“No, it’s not necessary, I just prefer it. After all, I did go back to get my face, and I wouldn’t want my old identity to get out there, now would I?”

“I suppose not,” Crowley led on, making his way around one of his numerous castle rooms in Hell, preparing the both of you a drink. “How do you like your liquor?”

“Well, more recently I’ve come to like a nice earthy aged scotch or whiskey neat. Whichever you think would be better. Either is much nicer than the cheap beers I used to drink. However, you still stick to the room temperature yeast water if I’m correct Dean and Sam. As for you Castiel, your grace makes it unnecessary to even try drinking unless you want a whole nother liquor store,” you turn slowly to look at the shorter hunter sneaking up behind you.

Dean had stopped his stride as you started to speak of him. Sam carefully made his way out from behind a bookshelf to your left. Castiel walked with his usual cadence from your right, out of the darkness.

Crowley gulped as you slowly moved back to look at the King of Hell. The brothers collected together on your left moving closer to the demon you were staring at. Castiel armed himself with an angel blade shifting to Crowley’s side.

“It’s nice to see I’ve sent you into such a panic, my King. But all four of you, here, in front of me, it truly seems all of my prayers have been answered.”

“What are your grievances toward us?” Castiel questioned, as he held his position as a warrior of the lord.

“What the hell did we do to you?” Dean asked.

You chuckled menacingly, “Hell is exactly right, Dean Winchester. As for my grievances, I simply can’t move past the fact that I was left here to rot.”

“We don’t even know who you are,” Sam said, trying to ease the tension of the situation.

“I assure you, you know exactly who I am.”

“What is it you wish to do to us for our mistreatment of you?” Crowley did not seem bothered by your accusations. He was in fact satisfied with his work, but only because he did not know whose face lay under the cover of your mask and hood.

“I’m simply going to take you to where all your darkest fears are going to come for you.”

Crowley scowled at this. Castiel raised his blade. “You can’t hurt me, angel, you promised.”

“I have only ever promised that to one-“ Castiel stopped speaking. The look of sudden and horrifying realization dawned on his face.

“Cas, Cas, what is it, who are they?” Dean asked as Sam tried to get Castiel to share the information he had just come to understand.

“Well, I don’t care who feathers promised to protect. This is my kingdom, no one threatens me,” Crowley pulled out his angel blade only making it a step forward.

“Really, Crowl,” your voice sounded as it used to, no longer holding the facade of an old and ancient demon, “when have you ever beat me one-to-one? We could make another bet, you’ll have to finally take me to that one restaurant you're always raving about and saying you’ll bring me to.”

His face fell immediately. “No,” it came out of his mouth with a hint of denial, but his eyes begged for what he was thinking to not be true.

It was your turn to smirk at the demon. You did so as you took off your mask and slowly removed your hood.

“Y/n,” Sam’s voice came out breathy. You were unexpected. Dean’s face whitened entirely, finally understanding Cas’s silence.

“We burned your body,” Crowley’s voice was breaking and eyes watering.

“You should have gone to Heaven,” Castiel stated.

“And I would have. If I hadn’t made a deal to save you lot from Lucifer,” your nostrils flared and your glare was directed at the Winchesters. “You were like brothers to me. I saved you! And you!” your gaze turned to Crowley, “I was given two goddamn years, by your crossroad demons. And my life ended up shorter than determined because I sacrificed myself to save all of you. And-and you, you let me rot in Hell.” Your voice broke on the last sentence you let slip.

Each of the men before you crumbled at the weight of your words. Not a single one of them could look you in the eye.

“Do it,” Dean said. No one spoke out against this. “Do what you need to do, make us pay. Just, please, let Sam out of this.” The begging was something your demon side liked, but the human part of you was sickened by it.

You walked forward, reaching out to cradle Dean's face in one of your hands. “No,” escaped firmly from your lips that were stuck in a hellish smile, fully displaying almost pointed teeth, like that of the many monsters you had all killed together.

The fear that followed your statement caught you off guard. Sam, Cas, and Crowley all flinched at your answer and Dean fell apart.

“Please,” the pleading returned. Dean looked about ready to beg you from his knees.

“I do not want revenge. I want justice. Congratulations, I don’t want to kill you any more than I want to kill anyone else at the moment. I want you to look at me and see what I am. I want you to know what you did. I want you to understand I screamed, and cried, and begged for each of you to save me. I want you to know that I held onto hope for so long,” the tears began to escape from your blackened eyes, “I thought you would come for me. I thought you cared! But you left me, never thought about me. You didn’t give any part of it a second thought. So this is punishment fit for the crime. I am a demon,” you looked at Dean, “I am not your friend,” you looked at Castiel, “I am not Y/n,” you looked at Sam, “and one day I rip this Kingdom from your grasp,” you looked at Crowley, and stepped back to view them all, “most importantly, none of this is personal. You left me behind, now I’m leaving you. You will forever recognize that you messed up and I will always be a reminder of your guilt. You are nothing to me, even if I am something to you.”

You began to walk off, reaching for the handle of the doors you had walked through earlier. You spared only one glance back before walking out, making one final blow, “goodbye boys.” After that, you simply disappeared.

—

“Your majesty,” the demon croaked out in fear.

“What?!” you snapped at your underling as you looked up from the scattered plans of hell and general paperwork. The demon shook under your gaze. It concerned you at times that your demons feared you so much. You were more of a force to be reckoned with than Crowley and he had been a demon for far longer than you had. The cruelty wasn’t what you wanted. You had hoped the damage done to your soul hadn’t changed you as much as it obviously did, but you supposed that was just your luck. “I apologize for my brashness, Anthony. I’m simply busy and stressed. Now tell me, what is the matter?” you looked at the demon before you with as much care as a demon can have for their personal assistant in a strictly platonic way.

“I’m afraid the Winchesters wish to see you. The short one is in the palace with his angel,” he told you still wary of your scrutiny.

“Here… in Hell?” you questioned. Anthony nodded, swallowing down his hesitance.

“They threatened to start killing your people if you refuse,” he said.

“Ahh, send them in then,” you told the demon, “make sure they know that if any harm comes to you I will be far less willing to even give them the time of day once they arrive.”

With another small nod, he walked off to collect Dean and Castiel. It had been a year since you had last seen any one of your old ex-friends. Hopefully, they would leave you alone if you showed little interest in their affairs.

As quickly as he left, Anthony seemed to return. Dean and Castiel were in tow, following behind the demon. You raised your brows at your loyal subject asking him if he was alright. As always Anthony kept it short with a brief nod before gesturing toward the door. You responded curtly back. Neither of you needed words to truly understand the other when it came to such dealings.

“You seem to be doing well down here,” Dean said, rocking on his feet, a telltale sign that he was uncertain and needed to calm his nerves somehow.

“Yes, I suppose us demons just have a knack when it comes to Hell,” Dean paled at the distance of your voice. It still destroyed him that this was you now. All he saw was your body, but it wasn’t you inside, not the you that had been like a younger sibling to him.

You asked Dean what he was doing here, but he did not respond.

“Dean,” Cas said.

“Yeah.”

“I asked what you wanted,” you said again, this time he was actually aware.

“Oh,” Dean was certainly out of it. Even Cas seemed to be affected by your voice. He tried to show it less, but Dean looked struck. If you had any empathy for them you would have felt bad. But you had none.

“Look,” you turned to actually face them, abandoning your work, “I’m not unreasonable, and I doubt this is a social call. I know that most of what you do tends to keep newer, larger, and more concerning players off the board. So what can I do for you so I can get back to my job and you can get back to yours?”

“We need help,” Dean replied.

“We need to find the angel tablet,” Castiel said. He seemed off somehow, even just slightly. He felt off too. It could have just been your new keen magic skills. You had recently been looking into seer magic and empaths.

“Oh,” you let out, leaning back into your throne, “Sorry, little above my level at the moment. I can get you a referral though. May I ask why you need this specific artifact?”

“So you’ve heard of it?” Dean pressed, stepping closer. Your eyes flitted black and he took a cautionary step back.

“I’m afraid I don’t let demon hunters and their angel friends too close, out of self-preservation. As for hearing of it, yes, I have. Let’s just say some information trickled down from Crowley’s kingdom.”

“Is this not all his Kingdom?” Castiel’s head cocked to the side.

“For the moment. It’s always healthy to have some respectable competition.”

“Who would this ‘referral’ be?” Dean used air quotes awaiting his likely disappointment.

“Ah,” you sighed, “I had a feeling you would ask that. Sadly, Crowley would likely know more than I would.”

“Crowley isn’t going to let us anywhere near him,” Dean argued.

“Well, that isn’t my problem. I’m not the one mucking around in other people’s business, now am I?”

“Y/n-” Cas started.

“It’s Belial or your majesty, angel,” you barked.

“I apologize, Belial,” Cas looked devastated. Fuck, what was that pang in your heart? Why did it hurt so much?

“He won’t talk to us. Not while he has the demon tablet,” Dean tried to present his case.

“Yes, and that has to be the one thing he is actually doing well at the moment, keeping it away from you, good for him. Now if that is all then respectfully, get out of my palace.”

“Thank you, Belial.”

“Cas we can’t just-”

“We can and we will, Dean,” the angel as always responded firmly and apathetically. Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder ready to fly out of your throne room.

“Castiel,” you said, your voice louder than it had been before that it echoed around the room.

The angel did nothing more than look at you expectantly. “Be careful, I don’t believe any of this is going to end well for you.”

“I will be fine,” he said.

“No, angel, I mean it. I have this feeling, watch out, please,” this was the closest you had ever been to who you used to be.

“Okay.”

—

“You, you helped me, why? I- you said you wouldn’t,” Crowley fumbled as you freed him of his restraints.

“Trust me, it’s not personal. You’re just easier to overthrow than Lucifer. So, as many say, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.” The locks clicked, releasing the demon crouched beneath you. You dropped the chains to the floor and pointed back and forth between the two of you, “This little alliance will only last till Lucifer is back in his cage. After that, I will go back to ignoring your existence, other than me trying to take over Hell.”

“Well, I can’t say that isn’t logical. I suppose I’ll make do,” Crowley rubbed his wrists.

“There is no making due. Neither of us wants Lucifer in charge of anything. That would be bad for both of us.”

“Why is that so bad for you?” Crowley looked at you with curiosity in his eyes, “You want to ignore me forever. You wish the same for the Winchesters and Castiel. So why would joining Lucifer and letting him kill us to be so bad?”

“I-” your loss for words was concerning to Crowley when it came to this form of you. The demon you was hard to throw off their game.

“Well?” He egged you on.

“How could you ever think that I want you dead?” your voice was low, as was your gaze. You avoided looking at him. Keeping your voice steady was harder than you expected.

It was Crowley’s turn to be at a loss for words. From the start, he had thought you wanted revenge as much as you claimed you didn’t. You were a demon after all, and you thought he and the others had wronged you. He fully expected you to fantasize about each of their ends.

Finally, your eyes found his face. He never thought he would see them as broken and hurt. The glossiness of your tears was begging to spill over. “You scare me. But never, ever believe that I want you dead. I can’t trust you. I can’t be around you, because I am afraid. Because I know if I have to I’d do it all again. Seventy-five years of torture to make me hate all of you, and only three to make me care for you enough to screw myself again. Fear is an incredible tool for motivation. So yes, I’m afraid of what Lucifer will do to me, but I am just as afraid of what Lucifer will do to you.”

——

“So you're the little demon ex-hunter Fergus is obsessed with?” the red-headed witch mewled.

“If you are asking rhetorically then you likely already know,” the answer was monotonous.

“I see why he likes you so much, this body of yours is most certainly a looker. You’re also far more mature and intelligent than the other demons.”

“Back off posh female Ron Weasley.”

“I’m afraid I don't know who that is.”

You rolled your eyes as she followed you like a dog seeking attention.

“Now, as I’m sure you’re aware, your son and I are not on speaking terms. Whatever he says to you about me does not pique my interest or concern,” you turned to walk away from the witch.

“What about the fact that there’s a human pregnant with Lucifer’s child,” her voice was smug, but her words made you stand straight. “I see that caught your attention, darling.”

“You have 10 minutes to tell me everything I need to know before I leave,” you growled at her, your black eyes attempting to bring fear into her soul.

“Well, that should be more than enough time. Once I finish with all the boring stuff, we can chat. My name's Rowena by the way. You should probably know that considering how much Fergus talks about you. With his enthusiasm I’ll one day be your mother-in-law.”

“I doubt it, considering,” you mocked her and gestured to your eyes. “Either way, as much as Crowley may talk about me, he most certainly talked about you.”

“All good things I hope,” she smiled at you. It was as if every gesture of hers and every action was manipulative by nature. You understood his hatred for her, she didn’t have a genuine bone in her body. You hoped for Crowley that would change, but at the same time, you wished she would finally let him go. He was far too caught up on the woman that never loved him the way she should have. But you would never tell him that, or anyone for the matter.

“Nope, even if there was any good to share, it would never have mattered, not based on everything else he told me about you.”

“Well,” she looked at you, for once appearing less devious, “I hope I can change that.”

“You can’t, and even if you technically could, it wouldn’t mean anything, because once more, I don’t care and I never will.”

———

Juliet nudged your leg. You were situated at the table in the bunker’s library. For the past year, you have riddled yourself with vigorous research and learning. You had been impressive before all of this, but with the extra reading and practice on spells, you were more powerful than you ever really imagined. You were more powerful than Sam, Dean, or Castiel ever expected you to become. It wasn’t necessarily healthy, but considering the track records of each of your respective companions, you were doing much better.

The gorgeous black-coated supernatural dog whined a little to fully grasp your attention away from the article you were reading titled, He-Wolf/She-Wolf: a Study of Werewolf Transgenderism. You had honestly been curious about the intersectionalities of the two, but after a couple of pages in the read became more of one for pleasure than one for research. As much as you found it interesting it didn’t aid you in any of your studies. Still, you thoroughly enjoyed it, even bringing it up in conversation with the Winchesters and Cas when they talked to you.

Placing down the paper you looked up at the adorable now one-year-old you had taken under your demonic metaphorical wing. Jack was the sweetest little antichrist you had ever seen.

“Hey kid, whatcha doing?”

He didn’t look happy, in fact, he looked unhappy and a little guilty. It made you sad to see him upset, after all, he was your one and only nephew, and you loved him dearly. He was the only reason you stayed around so much. The others you could care less about, but you’d damn yourself again for the boy before you. Juliet could sense his emotions as well, and ventured slowly over to the son of Lucifer. She gently brushed against the kid's leg. Without a thought, the boy petted the Hell Hound.

“Jack,” your voice was laced with concern, “is everything okay? Did something happen?” The boy looked away with sad eyes and the slightest pout, “come on kid it’s your birthday, you can’t wallow in your negative emotions with me around, not today.”

“Do you blame me?” he asked, looking back at you with tears in his eyes.

“Jack,” your voice broke as you stood up to embrace him, “of course, I don’t, whatever would I blame you for?”

Before you could reach him, he stepped back.

“Jack,” with every second you grew more worried.

“Because it’s my fault. Crowley would be alive if I had never been-“

“No,” you said firmly. But Jack only flinched. You didn’t waste time this go around, immediately engulfing him in a hug. “Don’t say that kid, don’t say that. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I could never blame you, and either way, it wasn’t your fault. It was Lucifer’s and mine and Sam’s and Dean’s and Cas’ and Crowley’s. We all knew what we were up against, but you kiddo, you couldn’t possibly be at fault for anything that happened that day. I just got a little unlucky alright, the best thing that ever happened to me occurred on the same day that one of the worst things that have ever happened to me did. I love you, Jack, I love you, and I can tell you without a doubt none of it was your fault, but most importantly, none of it was your responsibility.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried into your shoulder as he gripped you right.

“Shhh, shhh, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you patted his head softly.

“I just-I just know how hard today must be for you. I know how hard it is for Sam and Dean to look at me- I”

You pulled away, but only slightly. With precise movements you wiped the tears in his cheeks away, “It could never be hard for me to look at you, unless,” your voice cracked, “unless something happened to you, I- I love you, Jack. You're my nephew, you're the person I care about the most, okay? You could never make me truly mad or upset with you.”

Jack nodded the tears in his eyes finally slowing down, “I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

“I know, Cas knows, Sam knows, Dean is getting there, and he should have already gotten there okay? Dean- Dean just- don’t let him get to you kid.”

“He has every right to-”

“He has no right,” you said clearly to Jack, “he has no right.”

“Thank you,” he sniffled.

“Always, kiddo.”

“I um- I found these,” he showed you the old photos of you and Crowley before you had become a demon. You carefully took them from his hands, avoiding looking at the photos of the two of you. It was a mystery as to how Jack found these, considering that you hid them away from prying eyes because you yourself refused to look at them.

———

“Get off my throne,” you growled at the witch.

“Ah,” Rowena smiled brightly, “Y/n, I’ve been waiting for you to show up. How have you been?”

“I was doing fine until I heard you're quite non-demonic arse was sitting on the freaking throne of Hell! You are not a demon, Rowena, what in the name of my goddamn sanity are you doing?”

“Just filling in the position. No one else took a grab at it,” her nonchalance was really starting to piss you off.

“Fuck off, Rowena,” the witch gasped shocked at you and your words.

“That is no way to speak to your, Queen, or a friend for the matter,” she held a hand to her chest.

“Get off the throne,” you spoke through gritted teeth, eyes blackened, and voice course.

“Darling-” Rowena had yet to move.

“Get off his Throne!” your voice amplified at your outburst. Dark magic encircled you, inky black coils, spreading out from your body. Tears escaped your eyes with the same fervor and enthusiasm as Lucifer escaping the cage.

Rowena wasted no time bounding from the throne and to you. You were so lost, so without focus.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, Darling. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay, everything is going to be okay. Shush child, let it out, let it out,” she tried to soothe you. To your surprise, it somewhat worked. She had calmed your angered state, but you were still a sobbing mess on the floor. With careful and caring intent she gracefully brushed your hair with her fingers, humming sweet melodies.

It felt like hours, hours of Crowley’s mother combing your hair softly swaddling you and your grief. “It’s alright, Darling,” she cradled your face in her soft, deadly hands, brushing away stray tears that hadn’t been caught by the fabric of her skirt. “I suppose, well I suppose, Hell could always use another monarch, don’t you think? You would be a wonderful ally, you would make a wonderful leader.”

“Why couldn’t it be me? If I’d just- If I’d just told him that I, that I, that I lov-” your body broke down again, your throat aching for the sobbing to stop. Your eyes pleaded with you to stop mass-producing tears, but your heart couldn’t handle the hurt.

———

Your heart was doing better at handling it now. You sat beside, Rowena. Two thrones, two leaders of Hell, one King, and one Queen. All demons respected you, followed you, and were loyal to you.

You were the only demon that resented you for sitting on that damned throne. But that was only half the time. When you felt this way, it was often that those you still had around distracted you from those thoughts or blatantly told you how wrong they were. Sam often joined the both of you in Hell, enjoying his time with you and Rowena. Jack seemed to become like Rowena’s grandchild. She constantly taught him new things you had to reteach him about because of her adverse teaching style. Somehow out of the two of you, it was the demon that had the better grasp on morals. Castiel typically stopped by to grab Jack from your palace or frequented your palace with Dean. As always the two were as close as ever.

Those two and Sam were practically Jack’s three dads. Dean had finally moved on from what had occurred between Jack and his mother. The idiot even apologized to Jack after all the shit he put the poor kid through. Like the bright little ball of sunshine he was, Jack forgave him instantly, despite you telling him that he didn’t have to accept the apology right away or at face value. Jack let your concerns roll off of him, telling you he knew Dean was being sincere.

It took you longer to forgive Dean. The hunter even tried apologizing to you. It left you a laughing mess because you couldn’t fathom what warranted his empty words. You had heard Dean say it himself, that he often apologized to Sam without even meaning it. With time and patience, you moved past his ignorance, realizing some of your own. It was often demons get bitter, your negative emotions heightened, and your positive ones lessened. One day when he and Castiel had come to pick up Jack you extended the olive branch necessary to replenish as much of your friendship as possible. Dean gladly accepted your offer, stating he would love to have your help on cases, whether it be research or the actual hunt. With a smile on your face, your gaze moved to the incredible Nephilim you had helped raise standing beside his chosen father. Your only last hope for all of them being that Dean finally confesses to Castiel as well.

The smile remained on your face for the rest of the day. Despite not needing sleep you were preparing to go to bed. The cell phone you had been gifted by the hunter brothers rang throughout your room just as you were moving aside your covers. Reaching over you received a nice greeting from Sam. It seemed Dean had told Sam what you had said earlier that day. Snapping your fingers, your cozy fleece pajamas were swapped for your preferred choice of royal attire. A quick swoosh and you appeared at the library in the Men of Letters base.

———

You didn’t like this one bit. In fact, you dreaded this quite a lot.

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