Amat vos
Prompt: Imagine Crowley sending you a hellhound for protection Song Recommendation: Trigger Warning: None Word Count: 1,331 Pairing: Crowley x Reader, Winchester!Friends x Reader A/N: I absolutely loved the prompt, but i hate the story. still love the ideas I had for it though! anyway, I've been dying to write lately, so here I am! finishing a story I started... months ago. hope you guys enjoyed :)
Raylee's POV:
"FERGUS RODERICK MACLEOD!" I shouted, storming through the large doors into the throne room, my heels clinking loudly.
"Yes, dear?" Crowley asked, waving off the demon in front of him, "what's the matter?" He jumped to his feet, rushing to me.
"What's the matter? What's the matter? Es stercus! How about the fact that I was in the middle of a hunt when all of a sudden a shifter tried to jump me but was mauled to death?!" I threw my arms in the air at his feigned surprise.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" His eyes raked my body, a hint of worry in his tone.
"I'm fine, asinus stultissimus. Are you going to tell me why a hellhound was following me?" I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache starting to form.
"Quod sic, amica mea. I was worried, it sounded like it would be a rough hunt," he rested a hand on the small of my back and led me to his throne, sitting with me in his lap.
"I told you I could handle it." I glared,
"Just call it being extra careful," he brushed some hair behind my ear, expression softening.
"Since when have you been 'extra careful'?"
"Since you've become integral to the success of hell's doings," Crowley explains.
"Uh-huh," I pause, "tu softy. Potes meos suaviari clunes. I can take care of myself, I've been hunting far longer than you've been king. Call off the dog, please? Before you blow my cover or the wrong person gets hurt?" I give my best puppy eyes, but he shakes his head.
"No can do, darling. She stays." He tries to caress my cheek but I step away, crossing my arms. I glare at him for a moment before turning on my heel and walking away. He shouts, "where are you going?"
"Tu es valde molestus! Pedicabo ego vos! Bastardis!" I continued swearing until I was far from earshot, going as far to flip him the finger for added measure.
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Third POV:
"What the hell is that thing?!" Dean hollered, pointing his gun across the room at what looked to be a doll.
"Are you having a stroke? Do you smell toast?" Sam jested, looking between his brother and the doll questioningly, "I know you hate dolls, but c'mon... Don't shoot some kids doll, man."
"Not the doll, Sam, the thing beside the doll!" He snapped, gesturing towards the invisible being as if that would make it appear. Sam raised his gun slowly, still questioning what was going through his brothers head. Maybe he really was having a stroke...
"Hello boys," Raylee appeared behind the boys. They spun around quickly and let a few rounds off before realizing their mistake. Raylee reappeared in the same spot, turning to stare at the bullet holes in the wall, "nice to see you too!"
"Shit, Ray, we're sort of in the middle of something here," Sam lowered his gun and nodded towards Dean, who was back to staring at the doll.
"What, cosplaying? Who's he supposed to be, a nerd? Those are some huge glasses, Dean," She eyed the man who hadn't moved an inch, "wait, what's he looking at?"
"I have no idea, I think he's having a stroke-"
"Shut up! There's something there, you just can't see without the glasses!" Dean snapped, eyes darting between his brother, Raylee, and the thing only he saw.
"Oh shit, can you see her?" Raylee walked up beside the doll and pointed to her right, where Dean was still pointing his gun.
"'Her'?!"
"Ah! It's just Chewy, she won't hurt you. She's my protector." She smiled, any previous annoyance from the hellhound long passed after months of bonding.
Dean lowered his gun and took off the thick-framed glasses, handing them to Sam. He put them on and stumbled backward at the sight of the massive hound, who was now sitting and watching the Winchesters. Sam could almost swear the hound was watching them with contempt.
"Wanna pet 'er?" The hound- Chewy- looked at her owner and nudged her side, much like a puppy would for attention.
"Yes-"
"No-"
Dean looked at Sam as if he'd lost his mind, which he quite possibly may have. Sam shrugged and took a few steps forward, glancing between Chewy and Raylee for confirmation. He reached out and stoked the hound's head until she nudged his hand, urging him to scratch behind her ear.
"This is one of the strangest things I've ever done, and I've done a lot of strange things in my life," Sam joked, shoulders dropping as he relaxed, "why do you even have a hellhound?"
"Uh, sort of a long story," Raylee brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear, eyes darting over to Dean who was still in a defensive position, "yeah, okay. So, I'm more or less engaged to Crowley and he insisted on having Chewy follow me, "for protection" he said. Quid stultus."
Sam yanked his hand back, taking a long stride backward, "you what!?"
"Son of a bitch is a softy?! Here I thought he was just a coldhearted jackass," Dean quipped humorlessly, arms crossed and frustration evident in his stance.
"Heartless? No. Soulless? More than likely," She tried to lighten the air with a joke, but failed miserably, "okay, get it out. Yell, scream, curse, whatever." The boys stared at her a moment longer, then gave each other a look.
"Are you demon?" Sams arms were crossed, while Deans hands were shoved in his pockets. Neither men would look at her, betrayal written across their faces.
She took a deep breath then yelled, "Tu gravis? Tu gravis?! Quis, putas, ego sum?! I'm not a demon, you jackass! I'm just... not fully human. I don't know, somewhere in between!"
"Did she just call us 'putas'? Isn't that spanish or something?" Dean grumbled,
"Yes and no, it carries across languages-"
"Guys!" She interrupted their side conversation, "back to the point!"
"Right, right- So, how long have you two... Ya know..." Dean made a noise, almost like a click.
"What, been together? Quomodo dicitis... A century." Her accent, previously American, changed to an English accent.
"So, when all the fighting was happening- Dick, heaven, hell, everything, you were on his side? But still hanging around us? Were you... Were you his spy? Fuck, fuck! You're his spy! That's why he was always one step ahead of us!"
In a flash, Dean had Raylee pressed against a wall with his arm pressing against her throat. She held her hands out to her side, signaling for both Sam and Chewy to stay put.
"No, Dean, no! Non sum proditorem! I am your friend, I would never betray your trust. Through all the fighting, I stayed neutral. I never told Crowley anything, that is why I never told you guys about him- about us. I knew you would react like this-"
"I think I have earned the right to be angry!" He glanced back at Sam, his arm loosening slightly when he saw his brother was sitting on a dust covered chair, "Sam?"
"Yeah, I'm listening."
"Why are you not angry?!"
"I'm- I'm furious, Dean, but if she's telling the truth, then..."
"Then what, Sam? Then we should let her off the hook?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying-"
"I appreciate the sentiment and all, but I'd appreciate it more if I could be on my own two feet, Dean."
He took a few steps back, glancing over to where Chewy had been earlier, all of a sudden remembering her presence. They stood in silence for a while, the air thick was unspoken anger.
"I think it's best you go," Sam sighed, finally looking up at Raylee, "Just until we can figure this out."
"I... Si quid est quod te volo. You have my number, I'm always just a call away."
She took one last look at her friends before blinking herself away, her and Crowley’s bedroom in Hell appearing before her.
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Latin Translations (in order): "you shit!" "dumbass." "of course, my love." "You softy. You can kiss my ass." "You're very annoying! Fuck you! Bastard!" "Are you serious? What do you think I am?" "How do you say... centuries?" "I am not a traitor!"