+youoldserpent
The man... well, he wasn't a man, was he? Not quite. The demon smelled of earth and vinegary scales and, very faintly, of apples. He also smelled old. Much older than Dean, even if you counted the years he'd spent as a mortal, the ones he could hardly remember now.
"Well, well, well," he said-- almost a low purr-- and smiled as his face changed. "So you're the famous Anthony J. Crowley..."
"I've heard of you, man."











