Insinuation
Title: Insinuation
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG
Characters/pairings: Crowley, Alastair, Lilith, redshirt demons
Warnings (including spoilers): Crowley’s friendly demeanor. Won’t make much sense if you haven’t watched through S5, really.
Wordcount: 1,088 words
Summary: The Keeper of Contracts suffers through another dull meeting of Hell’s finest. Today, however, might just be the start of something special.
~~~~~
The arena-sized council chamber resonated with the exuberant howling of a few billion demons. Their twisting, smoldering forms filled dozens of balconies overhead, minor riots breaking out here and there as the tortured souls vied for the best positions at the banisters. Several were pushed over the railings and into the levels below as they stretched toward the long table on the main floor. Everyone in Hell wanted a fire-side seat to this particular council meeting.
Seated in a comfortable leather chair a respectable half-way down the table, the Keeper of Contracts made a small motion with two fingers. A congealing piece of flesh that had been torn from one of the spectators diverted from its path toward his clean-cut suit and hit the Master of Brimstone beside him, making an unseemly splat as it disintegrated against his red skin. Immediately, the mid-level demon roared and turned to bash the demon on his other side with the pommel of his pickaxe. With an annoyed snort, the victimized Keeper of the Gates of Hell clapped his hands once, and the Master of Brimstone fell through a pit in the hard-packed ground, which proceeded to wink out of existence.
“Neat,” the Keeper of Contracts complimented.
“Thanks,” the Gatekeeper replied, shivering his aura.
The Keeper of Contracts turned toward the head of the table. Civilized though the amorphous demon may be, watching him be smug was rather nauseating. And in any case, the meeting was coming to its climax.
The last ashes of the upper-level demon who’d held up the agenda wafted away on the sulfuric breeze, and Lilith waved a thunderclap for attention. The ocean of foot soldiers in the peanut galleries quieted to the level of a nuclear explosion or two, and their First announced the item everyone had been waiting for.
“The First Seal shall be broken!”
The Keeper waited patiently for the sheep to stop their noise once again. Lilith allowed the low-level demons far too much freedom and enjoyment, to his mind. However, he was not the Ruler of Hell.
“Upon whom shall fall the honor of breaking the Righteous Man?”
A few thousand demons launched themselves toward the table, ready to fight for the chance at glory. The Keeper of Contracts rolled his eyes as they screamed in agony upon touching the ground and burst into flames. If they hadn’t learned by now that nepotism was the way things worked in Hell, they didn’t deserve to continue existing.
Accepting the explosions of dying demons around him as an entrance, a demon a quarter of the way further up the table than the level of the Keepers stood from his steel-and-chains throne. Immediately, his followers, who numbered a sizeable faction, began to bay in support.
“If I may submit myself for consideration, Great One?” The Grand Inquisitor bowed politely to the head of the table. “I have developed a few new techniques that require…unsoiled flesh.” Wet cheers and hissing erupt from the spectators, and Alastair grinned, showing off teeth made of obsidian that dripped blood.
Lilith frowned at her lieutenant. “Your techniques haven’t worked so far. Why should I give you another chance?”
“What’s a century after so long waiting?” Alastair simpered. “I certainly don’t mind taking my time, Great One. And, as ever, I will leave the doors to my studio open so all of Hell can revel in the screams.”
Another wave of schadenfreude careened into the Keeper’s eardrums and he suppressed a grimace. He enjoyed a nice, relaxing torture session as much as the next demon, but that was for pleasure. When it was time for business, he valued results over entertainment. It was an opinion not much shared by the ravenous hordes of plebeians.
Despite this, the Keeper shifted his office chair back a few inches and stood. The Gatekeeper’s version of a gasp wobbled like jello in his ears, and the Keeper of Contracts suppressed a wince as he waited for the noise to die down.
“I have a counter-proposal, Great One,” he announced respectfully. The crowd reacted with excitement, crying out for his blood, hoping they would see him disemboweled for entertainment: the usual Hades sentiment.
Lilith turned her eyes down the table and an expression of interested crossed the face of the child she insisted on wearing, even in Hell. No doubt the tyke had gone screaming mad inside her own head ages ago. At least the man the Keeper wore had deserved it. “This is unusual, Keeper of Contracts,” the First said, smiling. “Make it good.”
“As enjoyable as the last century’s daily show has been,” he tipped his head to Alastair, who was gnashing his ugly teeth at the challenge, “some of the Seals are time-sensitive. I believe I could talk the son into taking up the knife faster than the esteemed Inquisitor’s techniques could break him. Afterwards, of course, he would be available for any use you see fit, Great One.” The Keeper finished with a guileless smile to the First.
Lilith looked interested. “What do you suggest, Keeper?”
“My agent won Dean Winchester’s soul by bringing his brother back to life. I’d recommend giving him the penny tour of Hell, then offering to never collect his brother’s soul if he’ll serve as a Tormentor.”
The battle cry of the Mongol warrior Alastair once was caused the council table to shiver. “You would give up the soul of Sam Winchester? After all the work our Commander put into him?”
“Azazel’s plan succeeded. Sam Winchester has the power to break the last seal. Once he does that, his body and his soul will be out of our hands anyway.” The Keeper kept up the genial expression while Alastair scowled.
“Thank you for your suggestion,” Lilith said, interrupted the staring contest, “but I’m not in the mood to play nice anymore with these Winchesters. The commission is awarded to the Inquisitor.”
The Keeper sat down as the crowd went wild. Alastair played to them, shaking the bloody weapons he always carried by his side. The Gatekeeper edged away, not wanting to sit too close in case a smiting was about to come down.
But the Keeper of Contracts knew better. It was in the lilt of Lilith’s smile, the crafty narrowing of her eyes that promised blood, and not his. She murmured under the roar of the billions who would cheer Dean Winchester’s utter destruction, and only the Keeper of Contracts heard her, despite the noise and the distance between them.
“I have other work for you, Crowley.”