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Unholy Devotion	By : FemmeBono Category: Supernatural > Het - Male/Female Views: 1749 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or it's characters, nor am I making money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Unholy Devotion
- 2-Cht 2
- 3-Cht 3
- 4-Cht 4
- 5-Cht 5
- 6-Cht 6
- 7-Cht 7
- 8-Cht 8
- 9-Cht 9
- 7
- 8
- 9
Cht 8
Grainne coughed once in her sleep and a sprinkling of blood spattered the pillow on which she lay. Moved by her human suffering, Castiel swept over and touched fingers to her forehead. Grainne woke with a gasp as bones mended themselves, lacerations sealed together, and contusions faded to nothing. The only thing left of her pain was the groggy memory and tiny red flecks on white cotton.
She groaned and stretched, turning over to face a sea of concerned males. Crowley once again asked how she was, only to be answered with a dull rumbling from her stomach. Sam quickly divided up his take-out and she took the proffered raisins from Garth, only taking a handful. She had gone without food so long, Sam wisely suggested that she limit the raisins and eat mostly rice with a bit of teriyaki chicken. After a few bites, Grainne grudgingly conceded he was right, but oh the taste of food again, she thought. She would have filleted someone for loaded baked potato fries, but was afraid her weakened stomach would reject it. Crowley filled a tumbler of water from the tap and she forced herself not to chug it. Grainne allowed Crowley to settle her back against the headboard with a couple of pillows and took his hand when he bussed her eyebrow. Within a few more minutes, she was asleep again, still exhausted from her ordeal and even drained from the impromptu healing.
While she slept, the boys planned away. Crowley had tracked Dean's movements as far as Livonia, but after the attack, the demon knight and his minions had fled, leaving Grainne bloodied and alone. He now believed that the Hell Gate was a ruse to shake faith in Crowley's followers, and that when Dean decided to take hell, he would do it by kicking in the front door. It was, after all, the Winchester MO. So Crowley himself took on the task of securing Cain, but his stipulation was that Grainne be given safe quarters while he went on the lam to find the first demon. With all the unrest in hell, he did not trust his own demon minions to keep her safe. Besides, hell is no place for a human, he thought grimly.

After much back and forth, they finally decided on keeping Grainne at the bunker safeguarded by Charlie and Garth. Sam returned to the bunker as well, for the time being, to start tracking different signs and incidents in an effort to pinpoint Dean's location again. He went on day trips out and back, investigating possible sightings. Castiel was in the wind again, seeing what information he could find from angels, wayward or heavenward.
Three days later, when Sam sat poring over his laptop, Crowley appeared unannounced and started ferreting through the liquor supplies. "Hullo Moose," he said, by way of greeting.
Grainne came rushing out of the kitchen, wafting smells of rosemary and lamb behind her. "Crowley?!" she said, all but jumping into his arms. He nearly sloshed the finger of Scotch he had secured, but wrapped his other arm around her with a barely suppressed grin. "Gah! Gerroff woman! You're even more effusive than Juliet."
Stung, Grainne let go and started to turn back to the kitchen. Crowley placed the glass on the table, swept her up with both arms and spun her once. "Hallo darling," he smiled and placed a loud smack on her lips. "Miss me, did you?"
Grainne pursed her mouth primly, "I should—"
"Give your king a kiss," he finished with a saucy look, "I agree totally." He cupped a hand on her bottom and leaned in for a sweltering kiss while Sam softly cleared his throat at the table.
"Easy there, Moose," Crowley replied, breaking the kiss. "You'll get yours, big fella."
"No thanks," Sam replied, forehead wrinkling in disgust. "What have you got, Crowley?"
"Hello to you too," Crowley said, sauntering over and pulling out a chair to sit when Grainne traipsed back to the kitchen with a smile on her face. "Always good to see you."
Sam sighed.
"Down to business then," Crowley leaned back. "I found Cain, of course."
"Great! Where?"
"Same place he's always been," Crowley replied. "He never left, in fact. Problem is, Dean knows he's there as well. He's camped out in the town near Cain's farm, about fifty or so followers with him, all possessing townsfolk."
"Whoa," Charlie breathed. She approached from the library, and hearing the last bit of news, shook her head unbelievingly. "I've never seen that many demons at once."
"Nor do you want to, love," Crowley said grudgingly. "Best to get all the players on the chess board however. Where's Feathers?"
"In the wind," Sam said, gesturing vaguely. "He'll check in again soon though, I'm sure. He's here nearly every day so we can compare notes. Charlie and Garth have been helping out too, scouring Men of Letters records to see if there's a summoning for knights of hell, something they might have tried on Abaddon or even earlier."
"Good," Crowley said, "we'll need all hands on deck as it were. Got something I want to run by you lot. Meanwhile…what is that delicious aroma?"
He trailed off toward the kitchen to investigate the food smells and harass Grainne.

Later that evening, Grainne took a luxurious soak in the tub. It had been strange being among the humans for days and the longer she did, the more she felt like her own humanity was slowing seeping back in to her very bones. She sighed deeply, washcloth draped over her eyes, and started violently when she heard Crowley's low hum of approval from the commode. She sat straight up, sloshing water all over. Grainne plucked the towel from the bath mat beside the tub and held it over her chest with one hand while she flipped the stopper up with the other.
"Crowley, what are you doing in here?" she gasped, flush creeping high as he leaned on his perch trying to get a view of her in the tub. He sat on the lid of the toilet, foot propped on the opposite knee and a lazy grin spread cheek to cheek.
"Isn't that obvious darling," he replied smugly. "I wonder how you ever became a demon, modest as you are. Tell me love, whatever did you do to wind up in hell anyway?" He knew already, but was unendingly curious as to what she would say.
"Unethical business practices," she said primly. "Now OUT!"
Crowley chuckled. "Unethical?" he laughed. "Sweet love, you commanded pirate ships!" At her low growl, Crowley walked out of the bathroom and into her quarters before she finally stood to dry off. An idea struck her and she flicked a hand at the doorway, causing the door to swing shut with a slam and lock. Good, she thought, at least I still have my powers.
Once done, she pattered barefoot back to her quarters expecting to see Crowley gone. Instead he lounged idly on her bed, ankles crossed and one arm draped over his head against the headboard. He raised his brows as she entered at the towel draped around her curvy female form.
"Grainne, darling," Crowley began, albeit hesitantly, "weren't you married in your life?"
"I married a pissant named Donal for my father's associations and then a spineless wreck of man named Richard, who I promptly threw out as soon as it was feasible," she huffed and sat beside him on the edge of the bed. "Why do you ask? Especially when I'm quite sure you already knew."
Crowley merely smiled and placed a hand at her waist as though to keep her from sliding away, then sharply tugged the terry cloth. Grainne hissed and slapped at his hands when he put both around her waist and plucked her up over him, depositing her sprawling across the mattress. She spluttered and cursed, but Crowley merely settled his weight against her and smiled down.
"You—you, foul and loathsome—" her words were cut off by his mouth kissing her soundly. When he drew back for breath, she continued, "ornery cuss! You'll bring the whole house in here!"
"You will yourself, with your caterwauling," he grinned, "besides, I locked and warded the door. No Winchesters." He made a pronounced wiggle with his hips against hers and waggled his eyebrows playfully. "So. Exactly how much have you missed me and exactly what would you like to do now?"
Grainne started to protest, to lie, to hedge, but the memory of his mouth on hers and his hands…her train of thought trailed off even as her eyes glazed over. She knew what she wanted from him, because he had already given her a taste of things she had missed for years without a lover who knew how to pleasure a woman. Would a demon—nay, a demon king such as Crowley—make love? Could he? Or would it be a mere trifle to him? A dalliance or simple tryst would break her now human heart, she feared. But she also knew all too well how easily her heart had leapt when she heard his voice earlier that evening.
She had missed him, terribly, and she feared what may happen if he went into battle with a demon army fifty strong. He was good, her king, but no one was invincible. Still, looking back into his eyes as he waited expectantly by placing his elbows on the bed beside her ears, Grainne knew that whatever he asked she would give, and whatever he gave she would accept. Tears stung her eyes as she lifted her hands to his face. All the men in battle, every English governor, every man who had tried to tame her had failed. It took a being of unholy strength to do it, but she had finally been laid low.
"Show me," she said simply. "Everything."
- 7
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- 9
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Unholy Devotion