Supernatural: In a High, High Tower (1/?)
Author Name: Patriciatepes (Patricia de Lioncourt )
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: PG-13 (for Now)
Characters: Daphne Allen, Crowley, Castiel, Meg, Dean, Sam, Kevin Tran, and necessary OCs
Pairing: Crowley/Daphne, Castiel/Meg, past Daphne/Castiel
Chapter Links: Prev | Next
Warnings: Hints of torture, sexual situations, light torture… more might be added later depending on how dark I want to take this
Summary: AU Past Parts of SPN S8. Daphne Allen is a saint… and saints are rare creatures. Saints have many powers, useful to both angels… and to demons. Saints can hear the angels speak, their blood can be used for many things, and they have a sight for things that normal humans do not. And, more importantly, saints have the power to redeem a soul. In order to ensure her family's safety, Daphne makes a deal with Crowley-one year of usage of her saintly powers with no arguments, and no interferences.
Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or any related characters. They belong to Kripke. No money made here.
Author's Notes: Just a couple of things here right off the bat. First off, I will have multiple points of view. However, for the majority of the fic, it will be through Daphne's eyes. Also, I did a Hard R-rated fic that had a similar setting to this one… what can I say? I just love this setting. But I'll be spanning this one's view out a little bit more. Also, I know this chapter is a bit long… but I had to cover the flashback. I know that it could've been a story in and of itself, but I feel that the rest of this story is the more interesting bit. And the rating may rise in later chapters. Also, I'm still way behind on posting things here on LJ... I'll catch up, I swear. Art by the wonderful twisted_slinky
Chapter One
Now
Daphne Allen sat back in the driver's seat of her car and sighed. She closed her eyes against the rising sun-which was busy staining her otherwise white house red. She ran a hand through her curly, chestnut red hair and sighed once more good measure. Another day, another dollar, as the saying went… but these overnight shifts were out to kill her. She reached over into the passenger seat and grabbed the single, white-and-blue plastic bag that she found there. Thank God Wal-Mart was twenty-four hours. She yanked the bag over into her lap and exited her vehicle, aiming straight for the small front porch of her home.
Her whole body ached, like she had just finished running a marathon. Who would've thought the graveyard shift at a hospital lab would be so tiring? But it was all worth it. If it kept her family fed, happy, and safe, then that was fine by her. A handful of years spent being tired from running… it was nice to be tired because of something else for a change.
She hauled her feet up the stairs, moaning softly as she did. Using her free hand, she fumbled in her scrubs' pants' pocket for her house keys. Laura and Elle would still be asleep, so she would try to keep her noise to a minimum. Daphne had no sooner stuffed the silver key into the lock as the sound of something heavy falling to the ground took place behind her.
She whirled, her eyes wide. A dark haired woman, dressed in jeans, a rock t-shirt, and a purple leather jacket, was crumpled just before the steps of her home. The woman's loose curls were matted, and she parted her cherry lips-which still looked cracked and parched despite the lipstick… or, at least, Daphne hoped that was lipstick. To see this woman injured shook Daphne to her core… because she had met her before… and she knew who-what-she was.
"Meg?" Daphne asked.
This seemed to finally force the demon to speak. Her eyes found Daphne's, and the intensity of that gaze did nothing to calm the woman on the porch.
"Run," Meg groaned. "Crowley's coming for you."
Then
Daphne was a patient woman. A faithful woman could be no other way. So when her Emmanuel had left with Dean Winchester, she had done the same she had done every time before. She did her nightly prayers, wanting nothing but her beloved's safety. But… something was wrong. Emmanuel did not come home.
This had sent Daphne reeling. It was a good two days after this realization-this knowledge that her husband was missing-before she could even muster the concept of trying to find him. She had no idea where to start. She had called her sister, Laura, in efforts of trying to share her grief. And Laura-the one who, despite being a witness to Emmanuel's miracles, had always been against him being so open with his powers-had tried her best to calm her sister. She had suggested that perhaps Daphne put out flyers, or post something online. But, even then, Daphne had a bad feeling the very pit of her stomach. She feared she would never see him again.
And then, someone arrived to tell her as much.
The woman had just been sitting in her living room one day when Daphne had arrived home from work. She had feared that this mysterious stranger to be another demon, but the woman had smiled and stood. She held up a single hand, trying her best to keep her movements slow and nonthreatening. Her coppery brown hair was swept back and pulled into a very business-like bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in a gray, ladies' suit with a white button-up underneath it.
"My name is Naomi, Daphne," she said before gesturing to the recliner adjacent to the couch that she sat upon. "Won't you sit down? We have much to discuss."
But Daphne had been rooted to her spot, her hands clenching and unclenching at her side. Naomi finally sighed.
"I am an angel of the lord," she said. "And I've come to speak with you about… about the man you call Emmanuel."
That had Daphne's attention. She took a few steps closer-angels were good, after all-but still stopped short of taking the proffered seat.
"How am I supposed to believe you?" Daphne asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Despite the brightness of the afternoon outside, the light inside the living room dimmed. A clap of thunder sounded, and large, shadowed wings threw themselves upon the floor, walls, and ceiling. Daphne all but collapsed into the chair.
"An angel?" she asked breathlessly as Naomi retook her seat on the couch.
"Yes. And we have much to discuss. Some of it will be difficult for you to hear, but you must," she said. Here, she paused, placing an almost matronly gaze upon Daphne before she added, "You're a very special woman. The only one alive of your kind."
Daphne shook her head. "You said that… you said that you knew something of my husband?"
"He's not your husband, Daphne. Not anymore. Consider that dissolved," Naomi said.
Daphne's heart thudded against her chest. She took a deep breath.
"No. I mean… I know that he was lost… that he-he doesn't know who he was. But he loves me, and I love him. He is my husband."
"Was. And yes, he did love you. More than he's ever loved a human. More than any angel has loved a human in quite some time. Which is why you are such a special creature, Daphne."
"Angel?" she squeaked. "Emmanuel's… he's an angel? Like you?"
Naomi nodded. "Yes. And his name is Castiel."
Castiel. Daphne rolled that around in her head a moment. She had gone so long calling him Emmanuel, the name they had both chosen for him. But there was something about this name… his true name… that fit him. It came surprisingly easy for her to replace "Emmanuel" with "Castiel."
"Why do you keep calling me a creature?" Daphne finally asked.
"Ah," Naomi said, patting her knees once with her hands. "The matter at hand. As I've said, Castiel loved you. He probably-some part-loves you still, even though he has regained his memories. He loved you the moment you showed him kindness, despite the state you found him in… and he loved you the first night you took him to your bed."
A deep, crimson blush flooded Daphne's features. She shook her head once more.
"That's none of your business," she said, the words coming out in a rush.
"But it is. You see, angels-well, the more unruly of our kind-copulate quite often. But not Castiel. He was not like those. And because of that… well, he's left you with quite a gift."
At this, Daphne arched a brow, but she did not speak. Naomi had rather a pleased look on her face. Neither said anything for a moment, but finally, the angel in the room huffed out a small, mirthless laugh.
"You're a saint, Daphne."
If Daphne was confused before-if she had had any questions-then this was something altogether different. She narrowed her eyes at Naomi.
"But… that's not possible. I thought… I thought saints were a Catholic thing. That someone had to be canonized after performing a certain number of miracles or something…?"
At this, Naomi's look went sour. She pursed her lips.
"No," she said rather forcefully. "A saint is not something that man can make. A saint is one who has had a… ahem, close encounter with the divine where love was involved. I guess you could say that Castiel… rubbed off on you."
"I'm sorry?" Daphne gasped.
"A saint has certain… qualities. Especially in their blood. It can be used for many things. Many wonderful, wonderful things."
Now Daphne jumped to her feet, her hand rising to her chest. "You want my blood? Are you… are you going to kill me?"
"Why would I do that? If I kill you, then your blood becomes limited. Again, as I said earlier, you are a very rare thing indeed."
Daphne backed away, and this pulled Naomi to her feet. This was too much. Emmanuel-Castiel-was an angel? She was a saint? Her breathing was growing heavy, panicked.
"Where is he?" she demanded. "Where is Castiel?"
"He's… indisposed, at the moment. But he's alive and safe. I thought you would be happy to know that."
Daphne nodded, her eyes not meeting Naomi's. "Thank you. Thank you for coming to tell me that. But, if you'll please… please leave. Now."
"I can't do that. I'm not finished."
A tear rolled down Daphne's cheek. "Why? What do you want from me?"
Her husband was gone-the man that God had sent to her. Now she was something that she didn't fully comprehend? She was alone in the house with an angel she couldn't get to leave-an angel that spoke of her blood… fear seized her.
"We need you to work for us," Naomi said. "Calm yourself. It will be simple."
"What do you mean?"
"An angel-one of my kind, of Castiel's kind-will come to you. You will go with them and perform whatever task needed of you. It's a divine calling, Ms. Allen. I would've thought such a devout woman would be happy to receive such a mission. You'll be serving Heaven."
That did sound a bit better. Daphne willed her breathing to slow back to a normal pace. She gulped in a few breaths, finally forcing herself to meet Naomi's eyes.
"What kind of missions will I be doing?" she asked.
"That will be revealed to you as you receive them. But you will do them."
Daphne simply stood there. Naomi smiled.
"Welcome to the cause, Daphne. We'll be in touch."
With that and the sound of fluttering wings, Naomi vanished. Daphne blinked once… twice. Finally, to the empty room, she repeated Naomi's point:
"I'll be serving Heaven."
And she was quick to learn just how terrible those words were. Angels-she had been taught-were loving, compassionate creatures who only wished to do God's will in Heaven and on Earth. But the angels that Daphne met? They were nothing like that. Some of them-too many of them-were much too human like, petty and devious. In fact, they almost reminded her of the demons that had attacked her looking for Emmanuel-Castiel. And there was no more word of Castiel. No, instead, an angel would arrive, whisk her away, and command her to give her blood to some cause or another. Some were good… some Daphne could return home proud of. But some… some were too… self-serving.
And she was not to ask questions. She learned this when she asked if her blood could free some poor soul that was being possessed by a demon. One would have thought that she had spouted the foulest blasphemy. When her blood had been taken next, it had hurt-torn from her by the cut of a dagger with no warning. Something was wrong. The angels… they cared nothing for her or her life. Or the danger they placed her in. Sure, she knew that the angels were meant to protect her as she performed these tasks… but she had overheard them. She knew that there were things that could kill them-many things.
One month. She served "Heaven" for one, long month. And then, it was all different. She felt sick, not herself. Her body was irregular, and something told her it had nothing to do with the loss of blood. Her brain told her that it was impossible, that Castiel had been an angel… but she had taken the test anyway. Two solid, blue lines. Positive. She was pregnant. And that cinched it. She had to get away from the angels.
So, in whatever free time she managed to obtain, she took to the internet. She looked-as discreetly as one could be online-for some way, any way, to be free of them. And then she had found it. Symbols, sigils. Enochian, they claimed to be-the language of the angels. But they would hide her and anyone she needed to hide with her.
It took some convincing to get Laura to follow along, reluctant to leave her life. But Daphne had explained that it could not be risked. That the angels would come for her if Daphne vanished. They had to go as one, or not at all. Eventually, her little sister agreed. It had been the existence of her unborn child that had cemented it.
"Laura," she had pleaded, "if they are this careless with me… what do you think they would do with…?"
She gestured to her stomach. And, after marking down the sigils on their best working vehicle, they ran. They ran far away, going from Colorado all the way to the east in a rural, North Carolina town. They bought the first place they could afford, tattooed the Enochian on their bodies in small but readable script-Laura on her right leg, and Daphne on her left shoulder. And, for several months, Daphne saw neither hide nor hair of angels. The sigils had worked, and she could be herself-and raise her child-in peace.
She was five months into her pregnancy and showing when she had had the dream. Castiel was searching for her-longed to know if she was safe. And Daphne missed her husband. She spoke of her location in the dream, and took the next day off of work. As it turned out, this was the wisest call. Her doorbell rang at precisely noon, and she had rushed to it, expecting Castiel-her husband-to be on the other side. He was… but not by himself.
"So, this is the missus? Not bad, Clarence," the dark-haired woman beside him grinned. "A little plain, but that figures."
Castiel smiled, a rather dopey look on his face. "Don't mind Meg. This is just her way. May we enter?"
But there was something… off. Castiel did not seem himself. She knew it was illogical, as the man she had known had not even known what he truly was. But there was something… loose about him. Emmanuel had always been stiff, unsure of the human experience. This Castiel before her was smiling and joyous. Daphne stepped in the doorway, pulling the door close to her body.
"What is she?" Daphne asked.
Meg rolled her eyes. "I'm a demon. But don't worry-" she held up two fingers, "-I'm on my best behavior. Promise."
"A demon?" Daphne gasped, glaring at Castiel. "You brought a demon to my house? After what happened the last time we spoke?"
The smile vanished, and he looked properly ashamed. He nodded and put his back to her.
"You're right. We should leave."
"Wait!" Meg called before Castiel could vanish. She turned to Daphne, leaning in to whisper, "Can we talk? Girl to girl?"
"Right here we can," Daphne snipped.
Meg sighed, turning to Castiel. "Cas, buddy. Why don't you take a seat at the foot of the stairs real quick, okay?"
He nodded and did as requested. Daphne narrowed her eyes. Meg turned back to her.
"As you can see, Missus Angel, he's not quite himself. Not even for Castiel. He's kind of… crazy."
"Crazy?" Daphne repeated.
Meg nodded. "As in loco, screw loose, few marbles gone… and he's feeling a good amount of guilt. So you might wanna take it easy on him."
"What do you care? You're a demon," Daphne noted.
Meg shrugged. "Normally, I wouldn't. But you see, angel-wings there is the only way I've got to keep my ass safe from the current King of Hell… a rather nasty demon by the name of Crowley. He-and his Winchester buddies-are also my only hope of killing that smarmy dick. So, I'm playing nice with my new friends."
Daphne leaned around Meg, her eyes falling on the slumped, trenchcoat-covered shoulders of Castiel. Even from behind he looked just so… depressed. Daphne rolled her eyes. She stepped back from the door, opening it wide.
"Come on in," she said as Castiel stood, the smile back on his face.
But Meg's brow rose into her hair as her dark eyes fell down to Daphne's midsection.
"Haven't been too lonely, have we, dear?" she asked.
Instinctually, Daphne's hand fell to her ever-swelling stomach. Her lips pursed as a frown appeared on Castiel's face. But the angel quickly wiped it away.
"I understand," he said, albeit glumly. "You deserve happiness. Is the father here?"
He thought she had been unfaithful? Her heart broke. She led Castiel and Meg into the living room, shaking her head. Her mouth opened to reply, to speak the truth, but she stopped. Meg was right. Daphne could see it in his eyes. Castiel was not… himself. And Meg herself was a demon. Now was not a time for truth. So, as much as it pained her, she sighed.
"No. He's… not in the picture. A stupid mistake," Daphne said as she took a seat on the sofa.
Castiel and Meg took a seat on the loveseat across from her, and Meg winked.
"The truth of many one-night stands, I find," she drawled.
Castiel was frowning again, and Daphne wasn't sure how much more breaking her heart could take. She shook her head, and despite herself, reached out across the small distance to rest a hand on the angel's knee.
"There's so much I have to tell you… and I'm sure you have a lot to tell me. You're an angel… another angel came and told me that. Tell me what happened… before you met me, after… please."
Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but he finally nodded. He started with the taking of his vessel-a man named Jimmy Novak-and went from there. He told her of Sam and Dean Winchester, of fighting the Apocalypse, and of what had happened when the Apocalypse did not come to pass. How he had started a civil war in Heaven, in efforts of making sure that the archangel Raphael did not try to end the world again. And to do so, he went in search for the souls of Purgatory by allying himself with the King of Hell, Crowley. He told her of Leviathan, of dying, and of how she had found him. And then he told her of regaining his memories and taking the wall in Sam's head-which he had broken-into himself.
"It was a great struggle," Castiel noted with a sigh. "It took a long meditation. But I am at peace, and I see this miraculous world in a whole new light. So many wondrous things take place on Earth every day… have you ever considered bees, Daphne?"
At this, Meg groaned and placed a tight hand on Castiel's shoulder. The move made Daphne shift in her seat, but the demon only grinned-something else that seemed unnaturally tight.
"Maybe you ought to let Daphne tell you her news, hm? Like why she's hiding from angels?"
Castiel nodded, and Daphne began. She told him about how an angel had come to her shortly after his disappearance, and told her that she was a saint.
"That's a great honor for you," Castiel interrupted. "Saints can do much good for their kind. True saints, that is."
But Daphne shook her head. "They had me doing terrible things, Castiel. Killing. Killing even other angels. I couldn't do it. I ran."
She left out the part about discovering when she was pregnant. That would be a giveaway. It would be too soon after his disappearance, which meant that he would either discover that the child was his… or he would further think on Daphne's supposed betrayal. She couldn't bear either.
Castiel nodded sagely. "Angels are… unused to the ideas of free will. Hiding was a wise choice."
"Speaking of," Meg said, standing. "That's exactly what I should be doing. Let's go, Clarence."
Castiel stood and said his goodbyes, making his way to the front door without argument. However, Daphne stopped Meg before she left the living room.
"I don't understand," Daphne said incredulously. "Why does he follow you so blindly? You're a demon!"
"As you've said before, sweetheart. But I'm the one who played nursemaid when he was a drooling mess in the crazy ward. I guess he feels like he owes me. But don't worry. I'll keep him nice and safe."
Daphne knew she meant it as a quip, as innuendo… but she nodded sincerely.
"Please do."
Meg scoffed and followed Castiel out of the door. And that had been the last Daphne had seen of either of them for three and a half years. Daphne and her sister lived in quiet, which Daphne had never really viewed as "peace." The meeting with Meg and Castiel had left her uneasy, and feeling much unprepared. So, at night, she researched. She studied. She learned as much about the supernatural world as she possibly could. And, she even imagined that she stumbled across a couple of cases that Castiel's friends, the Winchesters, had been on.
Her daughter was born, beautiful and healthy. Elle, Daphne named her. And Daphne couldn't believe how fantastic being a mother made her feel-and how horrible. She worried constantly that some magical presence was going to swoop down any moment and take her beloved Elle from her. She had managed to procure a charm with the same Enochian on it that Daphne and Laura had had tattooed on their bodies. She made sure Elle wore it always, even in sleep.
Very few people were aware of Elle's existence, even after two and a half years of life… and no one knew who the real father was-save for Laura-even though her daughter's eyes were the brightest blues she had ever seen… the same blue as Castiel's.
Three and a half years of peace, and caution, and worry… and it was all crashing down…
Now
Daphne's grip on her groceries slackened, and the bag with all of its contents hit the porch and rolled away. She whirled in her spot, grabbed the key a little rougher than necessary, and gave it a hard twist. She shoved her way into her home and made a beeline for the stairs. Upstairs-where Elle's and Laura's bedrooms were. Elle…
Daphne took the stairs two at a time, using the rail to propel her body forward. She hit the second floor landing with a thud and didn't slow, her eyes on the pink, blocky letters on the door at the end of the hall that spelled her daughter's name. Her lips parted, wanting to call for her, when a pair of strong arms wrapped about her waist.
"No!" she screeched.
"The King of Hell has a deep interest in you," a gruff voice said from behind her.
In a flash, she was no longer in her home. Instead, she was in a cold, dark room made primarily out of cement. In the center of the room was a small, rectangular metal table with two matching chairs-one on either end. She turned in place, huffing as if she had run to this place-wherever it was at. She wanted to scream. To cry for help. But she knew it was useless. The King of Hell had her… and no one who could possibly save her knew where she was. In fact, no one, ability to save or not, knew her location now. Her eyes fell to a door behind her, and she started toward it. She lifted her hands, hesitating to touch the rusted metal, before she finally put all of her weight on it. It didn't so much as budge. She backed away from it, figuring as much.
Her attention went back to the table and she bypassed the first chair in favor of the one facing the only seeable entrance into this room. She pulled it out, the legs making an awful scraping noise. She sat down and folded her hands in her lap-the better to keep them from shaking. She glared at the door, waiting for the inevitable arrival of her captor. It seemed forever that she sat there, alone, in that room. But the longer she had to wait… the more resolved she became. Crowley would get nothing from her. Nothing at all.
Yet, her hands still shook, and finally her eyes fell to the dirty table before her. It took her a moment before she realized that her whole body trembled, and her brain began to silently scream at her to stop. She was going to be strong. She wasn't going to be afraid. No. She wasn't going to be afraid at all. She had been through too much these last few years.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Daphne's head snapped up as she took in the new arrival. He wasn't exactly what she had been expecting when she had heard about the King of Hell. Granted, all of her visions of Hell were filled with red-skinned, horned monsters with pitchforks. But this man… he just looked like a business man. He had a thin beard-more of a scruff-on his face, and his green eyes gleamed as they fell to Daphne. He was dressed in a fine black suit with a dark, charcoal gray tie. He shut the door behind him and walked to the opposite end of the table. There, he smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Daphne Allen," he said, and Daphne was just the slightest bit surprised to hear an English accent. "I've heard a lot about you. The name's Crowley, but I'd wager that you knew that at least."
"I won't help you," Daphne blurted out suddenly, causing Crowley to raise a brow at her. She shook her head as she added, "I won't. You can torture me, kill me, whatever. But I won't help you. You'll get no cooperation from me."
"Ah, so I'm guessing that you've surmised that I know of your status of saint and of all the little goodies that entails," Crowley grinned.
Daphne felt a heat rush to her face, and she clamped her lips tightly shut. Crowley chuckled and continued on.
"It's true, darling. I know that you are a saint, made that way by-ahem-being married to Castiel. I also know that you're the only currently living saint. Which is why you are just so interesting to me."
"I. Won't. Help. You."
"Yes, yes, I'd figured that you would say that. You see, I got a lot of interesting tidbits from the time I had Meg down below-I believe you know Meg, yes? She said that she figured you for the noble type."
Meg had talked about her? Crowley had tortured the information out of her? Daphne's heart began to race. Just what did Crowley know about her? Her body was shaking again, and this time it seemed that there would just be no stopping it.
"Now," Crowley said, taking a seat on the opposite edge of the table, "there are these lovely tablets. The Word of God. And one of them that I happened to stumble across sometime early last year was labeled "saints," which is how I know all about your kind. Well, with the help of a very trusty Prophet of the Lord. Bottom line, kitten… I think I could do a lot with you."
"I'd rather die," Daphne said, holding her chin aloft.
Crowley grinned, clearly unfazed. "You see, based on Meg's description of you, I figured that as well. Which is why your house is currently surrounded by my black-eyed boys."
Daphne stiffened as Crowley withdrew a phone from within his jacket. He shook it once at her, still with that snake's grin on his face.
"One telephone call, and the two ladies remaining in your home die. Horribly, might I add. And we both know that Meg's run off, so you can't really trust her to help. Not that you should've been thinking that in the first place, dear."
In all honesty, she hadn't been. But now didn't really seem the time to point that out. Instead, she rose a bit out of her seat, her eyes trained on the iPhone.
"What do you want?"
"I want to make a deal, sweetheart."
"What? I-I won't… I can't sell my soul. I can't. I won't," Daphne stammered out.
Crowley rolled his eyes, standing. "Well, of course not. No, you see, I have a different deal in mind."
Daphne sunk back into her chair, her hand rising to clutch over her chest. "What kind of deal then?"
"I will kill everyone you hold dear… everyone you've ever held dear. The little girl in your house, your sister… everyone," Crowley began, and when Daphne gasped, about to protest, he held up a single finger, adding, "Unless you give me one year of your time."
"What do you mean, a year of my time?" Daphne asked.
"One year using your saintly powers anyway I see fit. No questions asked. One year, and you and your loved ones go about your merry way."
At that precise moment, his phone beeped, and he flipped the screen about to face him. He smiled down at it before he allowed his eyes to trail back up to Daphne.
"She really is beautiful, the little one. Such a heavy sleeper too," he said, turning the phone about.
There, lying peacefully asleep in her bed, her little hands hugged around her favorite stuffed rabbit, was Elle. Daphne rose from her seat again, leaning across the table to stare, wide-eyed, at the picture. Crowley chuckled and turned the phone away, tucking it back inside his jacket.
"Very adorable. Who is she, by the way?" Crowley asked.
Daphne wanted to scream she was so elated. Meg hadn't told. Hadn't told Crowley that Elle was Daphne's child. Which meant that he was still that crucial step away from figuring out that Elle's father was Castiel. If she could head that off… at least that would be something.
"My niece," she all but snapped.
Crowley arched a brow. "Your niece?"
Daphne nodded. "Yes. She's my niece. Laura's… Laura's daughter."
"Ah," Crowley said. "Well… don't you want her to live a long, happy, healthy life?"
Daphne sighed. "Of course I do."
All mirth disappeared from the demon's face.
"If you refuse my rather generous deal, then I'll start by snapping the little brat's neck."
Daphne gasped, pressing her pale fingertips to her lips. The smile reappeared on his face as he added, "And I'll personally make sure that you're there to see it."
Daphne rounded the table, coming to a stop halfway in its length. Her eyes darted away, considering her options. No one knew where she was. She hadn't seen Castiel in years. And… if she called to him here… No. If Daphne had been able to learn about Enochian, then surely the King of Hell knew of it.
"One year? And I… I won't be able to see my family, will I?" she asked.
"I hardly think not. How would I be able to trust that you were doing as instructed? No, you would spend the year under my very watchful eye, far away from your family. Can't have you trying to run."
"I'll… I'll make the deal," she whispered.
"Wonderful," Crowley said, standing.
He took a single step toward her when Daphne held up a hand for him to wait.
"But… but I… we… need to work out the details."
"What details?"
His voice was positively laced with acid.
"You can't harm them. Not anyone I hold dear. Not my sister, not my… not my niece. And not anyone that may arrive to… to watch over them."
"May arrive to watch over them?" Crowley repeated.
"Yes," Daphne said, crossing her arms. "Like… like if I asked the Winchesters to watch over them. Then you couldn't harm them."
Crowley seemed to mull this over. After a moment, he nodded.
"Very well. Provided they make no heroic efforts to stop me in the course of that year."
Daphne had not even met both of the Winchesters, only Dean for a very brief moment back when Castiel had still been her husband. It was a long shot, but that was the only name she had had for Crowley. Maybe, though… But one year of them not trying to stop Crowley? That was a super long shot.
"Fine. And I need an hour. An hour to make sure that my family will be all right without me. And at the end of that hour… I'll come along quietly. No arguments."
Crowley stepped even closer to Daphne, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder-preventing her from backing away.
"But I want no arguments from you, Daphne. Not once this year. You will do what I ask, when I ask it of you. And you will do nothing without my presence or permission outside of where you will be kept. And you, yourself, will not try to interrupt my plans."
Daphne nodded, trying to lean out of his grip, but it just was not happening.
"Fine. Of course. But I want that hour to be uninterrupted by you or your demons. No eyes. Nothing until the hour is up. I want that time with my family alone."
And, of course, she didn't want to run the risk of him learning Elle's true identity.
"Of course," Crowley said. "So, have we got a deal? No arguments from you?"
He leaned forward, his hand sliding up to grasp her about the back of her neck.
"I-I also want to make sure that none of these… these things you will require of me… they can't cause me p-permanent damage," she whispered as his face inched closer to hers.
"Oh, darling," he laughed. "Perish the thought. Now… if we have a deal… we do have to seal it."
She nodded. And, in the next instant, his lips were pressed against hers. She gasped into his mouth as his tongue darted in for a brief second, teasing her. Her eyes were wide, staring into the darkness of the room as the King of Hell continued to kiss her roughly. Finally, he pulled away, smiling.
"One hour, kitten. Then you come to me."
With that, he snapped his fingers, and Daphne was back on the second floor landing. She gasped, turning in place. Judging by the sudden brightness of the sun, she had apparently been gone for more than just the few minutes she had thought.
"Laura!" she cried out.
Footsteps on the floor below brought Daphne back to the staircase as she stopped, staring down. Her sister-her short, blonde hair in disarray from an obvious lack of a morning brushing-stared up at her as she began to race up the stairs. She only stopped when Daphne grasped both of the younger woman's arms.
"Daphne… I… I heard you scream! And then I couldn't find you! What happened?"
"I don't have long," Daphne said. "So don't argue. Just listen."
So Daphne rushed through her explanation, carefully cutting her sister off whenever Laura dared to interrupt as she led the younger woman into the living room. She finally ended her long story with, "Where's Elle?"
"You mean Elle, who's suddenly my daughter? Who's going to go a year without her real mother?" Laura snapped.
Daphne sighed. "I didn't have a choice! Where is she?"
But the sound of tiny footsteps on the stairs alerted Daphne as she stepped around her rather angry sister. Holding tightly to the rails, Elle was taking the stairs one tiny step at a time. She stopped on the first floor, rubbing her bright, blue eyes.
"Momma?" she asked.
"Oh, baby," Daphne said, bending to lift her daughter into her arms.
She walked over the sofa, taking a seat with her girl on her lap. Daphne stared at her for a moment, before her own words played through her mind. One hour. And she still had so much to do.
"Sweetie… I need you to listen. Mommy's… Mommy's gotta go on a trip. I'm gonna be gone for a little while."
Elle's face brightened. A trip always meant that she got to come too. It was breaking Daphne's heart, but she had to push ahead.
"No, honey. Um… Mommy's gotta go by herself. But, but it's okay. You'll be with Aunt Laura. And… and some friends."
Laura stepped farther into the room. "Friends?"
Daphne nodded, setting a very confused Elle down. She bent, giving her daughter a swift hug, before she looked back at her sister.
"It's a bit of a wild card… but I'm going to call Castiel. Stay here with her for a minute."
With a promise of being right back to Elle-Daphne still had thirty or so minutes left-she stepped out on the front porch, gently shutting the door behind her. She felt the tear on her cheek before she realized that her eyes had even gone watery. She sniffled, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands.
"Castiel," she began. "I don't know… I don't know if you even remember me. You were… you were in a weird state when last we saw one another. But, it's Daphne. I… I need your help. Please. Please, can you come right away? Please?"
She kept her eyes pressed shut. And she did not even hear a sound before a gruff voice-a voice that made a smile spread across her face-spoke her name.
"Daphne."
Her eyes flew open to see him, dressed in a suit with a white undershirt, blue tie askew, and that tan overcoat he had worn over his hospital outfit before, standing at the foot of the stairs. She all but fell down to him, hugging him tightly to her, as if she didn't believe that her prayers for him had worked.
"Castiel," she said, now openly crying.
"What's wrong? What's happened?" he said, pulling out of the embrace to stare down at her with those brilliant blues… Elle's blues.
"Something's happened," she said.
And, for the second time that night, Daphne explained her predicament, starting with Meg's arrival and ending with this moment. By the end of it all, she had only a precious ten minutes left, and she used them to grasp him tightly about the arms.
"I need you," she said.
"I'll help you," Castiel said. "I'll get Sam and Dean… we'll help you."
Daphne shook her head. "You can't… you can't come after me… or Crowley. It was part of the deal. The only thing that keeps you all safe."
"All?" Castiel asked.
Before Daphne could respond, another voice called her name. Both she and Castiel turned to see a man-a demon-with a black SUV parked at the end of Daphne's home's walkway.
"It's time to go. The King said you would not argue," he said.
Castiel moved forward, but Daphne stopped him, shaking her head. She stood on tip-toe, wrapping her arms about the angel's neck.
"We'll find a way to save you," Cas said, but even then… there was something in his voice. Like he didn't believe it himself. Like he was holding back.
"It's okay," she whispered into his ear. "Just promise me. Promise me you'll stay here with Elle. That you'll watch over her like… like she was your own."
She could feel the confusion emanating from him. "I… I promise."
"Like your own, Castiel," Daphne whispered with one final, tight hug. "Because she is. Your own."
With that, she broke free and turned. Without glancing back once-for fear of losing her resolve, for fear of losing it all-she got into the SUV and allowed it to carry her away.