Status: In progress
The Fire Within a Human Burns Brighter Than All of Hell
Chapter 7
At six p.m., Deana takes off the outfit she threw on from the floor that morning--she's not wearing dirty clothes to meet Crowley--and chooses dark blue jeans, a black belt with a silver buckle, a flowy black tank top and black boots. She takes a deep breath...okay, many deep breaths, and leaves the bunker. Deana already told Sam that she was going out tonight, so no one has any reason to hassle her as she leaves now. Deana gets into the Impala, turns on the radio, and drives to the bar on Sherman Road.
***
Deana walks in and her eyes immediately pinpoint the back of a black coat sitting at the bar. She makes her posture straight, but not too straight, and walks purposefully across the room to sit beside him. He turns his head and their eyes meet, and the look in those hazel eyes...it shocks her, to put it lightly. She sees pain and anxiety and grief, more emotion than a demon should be able to feel all at once. He reaches out and touches her face, acting as though she might not be real. Deana covers his hand with hers, and they smile.
"Take us somewhere else," she says softly.
"Of course, love," he replies just as quietly, and they leave the bar. Outside, he teleports them to his home.
Emotion so strong that, it's staggering, swells up within Deana as she finds herself inside the familiar house. She wraps her arms around Crowley's torso and presses her body to his, burying her face in his chest. He holds her tightly, almost painfully so, and nuzzles her hair.
"My Deana," he breathes, and she nods.
"My Crowley," she whispers.
When she pulls back just enough to look at his face, he kisses her forehead.
"I am so sorry," he tells her.
She frowns. "Why are you sorry?"
"I was selfish when I brought you back from death. I woke you and took your soul, and I let you do things I knew would destroy you inside if you got your soul back."
"Crowley, I forgive you for that."
"You shouldn't. I was wrong. I made you a demon because I hated that you pretended to hate me for your sister and friends."
"Crowley--"
"I took you from Heaven, I took you from them--"
"Crowley--"
"And when they were trying to cure you, I fought so hard to stop them because I never thought I could feel love until I met you."
"Crowley...." When she realizes what he said, it knocks the wind out of her. "Love?"
"I love you, Deana."
She is stunned, her heart and mind racing as she stares into the serious and vulnerable eyes of the demon king. "....I love you, Crowley."
He sweeps Deana up into his arms and teleports to the bedroom, where he drops her onto the bed and climbs on to kiss her hungrily. She returns the kiss desperately, already ridding herself of her clothes. He helps her, and soon both their clothes are off and tossed away from them. He breaks away to hover over her, his eyes sweeping slowly over her form. She shivers under his gaze, reaches up to stroke his cheek.
"Fergus," he says quietly.
"What?" she asks in surprise, already sort of knowing what the word means.
"My name. Before. It was Fergus."
Deana blinks and smiles. "Fergus. Thank you for telling me." She sits up on her elbows and kisses him, deep and sweet, and his arms wrap around her to gently bring them closer together.
"I love you, Deana," he whispers.
"I love you, Fergus," she breathes, and when he enters her, Deana feels, for the first time in awhile, as if she is not incomplete. She is whole. And it could only feel this way with him.
***
Crowley shocked himself when he uttered those words. 'I love you, Deana.' He'd felt it for a long time, known it for not even half as long, but saying it felt so strange, sounded so foreign coming from a demon. But it felt more right and more real than anything he had ever said.
Now, as he gazes at his love, hears his given name slip so naturally through the righteous woman's sinful lips, Crowley knows that nothing he has ever done could mean as much as this; and nothing he could ever do will help him to deserve this. But he is a selfish man, and deserving or not, he will have her, keep her and cherish her, until Death or God or whoever decides to rip her away from him.
***
Deana walks in and her eyes immediately pinpoint the back of a black coat sitting at the bar. She makes her posture straight, but not too straight, and walks purposefully across the room to sit beside him. He turns his head and their eyes meet, and the look in those hazel eyes...it shocks her, to put it lightly. She sees pain and anxiety and grief, more emotion than a demon should be able to feel all at once. He reaches out and touches her face, acting as though she might not be real. Deana covers his hand with hers, and they smile.
"Take us somewhere else," she says softly.
"Of course, love," he replies just as quietly, and they leave the bar. Outside, he teleports them to his home.
Emotion so strong that, it's staggering, swells up within Deana as she finds herself inside the familiar house. She wraps her arms around Crowley's torso and presses her body to his, burying her face in his chest. He holds her tightly, almost painfully so, and nuzzles her hair.
"My Deana," he breathes, and she nods.
"My Crowley," she whispers.
When she pulls back just enough to look at his face, he kisses her forehead.
"I am so sorry," he tells her.
She frowns. "Why are you sorry?"
"I was selfish when I brought you back from death. I woke you and took your soul, and I let you do things I knew would destroy you inside if you got your soul back."
"Crowley, I forgive you for that."
"You shouldn't. I was wrong. I made you a demon because I hated that you pretended to hate me for your sister and friends."
"Crowley--"
"I took you from Heaven, I took you from them--"
"Crowley--"
"And when they were trying to cure you, I fought so hard to stop them because I never thought I could feel love until I met you."
"Crowley...." When she realizes what he said, it knocks the wind out of her. "Love?"
"I love you, Deana."
She is stunned, her heart and mind racing as she stares into the serious and vulnerable eyes of the demon king. "....I love you, Crowley."
He sweeps Deana up into his arms and teleports to the bedroom, where he drops her onto the bed and climbs on to kiss her hungrily. She returns the kiss desperately, already ridding herself of her clothes. He helps her, and soon both their clothes are off and tossed away from them. He breaks away to hover over her, his eyes sweeping slowly over her form. She shivers under his gaze, reaches up to stroke his cheek.
"Fergus," he says quietly.
"What?" she asks in surprise, already sort of knowing what the word means.
"My name. Before. It was Fergus."
Deana blinks and smiles. "Fergus. Thank you for telling me." She sits up on her elbows and kisses him, deep and sweet, and his arms wrap around her to gently bring them closer together.
"I love you, Deana," he whispers.
"I love you, Fergus," she breathes, and when he enters her, Deana feels, for the first time in awhile, as if she is not incomplete. She is whole. And it could only feel this way with him.
***
Crowley shocked himself when he uttered those words. 'I love you, Deana.' He'd felt it for a long time, known it for not even half as long, but saying it felt so strange, sounded so foreign coming from a demon. But it felt more right and more real than anything he had ever said.
Now, as he gazes at his love, hears his given name slip so naturally through the righteous woman's sinful lips, Crowley knows that nothing he has ever done could mean as much as this; and nothing he could ever do will help him to deserve this. But he is a selfish man, and deserving or not, he will have her, keep her and cherish her, until Death or God or whoever decides to rip her away from him.
♠ ♠ ♠
Fin.Please tell me if you would like a sequel. :)