Supernatural: In a High, High Tower (2/?)
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 Two
She wasn't really sure when it had happened, but at some point during her ride, Daphne had fallen asleep. She leaned up from where she had been against the-thankfully-locked driver's side back door. Her hand flew to her mouth and, embarrassingly, she wiped away a bit of drool there. Blinking, she narrowed her gaze out of the tinted back windows and through what she could see of the windshield from where she was. One thing was abundantly clear to her… she wasn't in North Carolina anymore. And even though she had absolutely no idea exactly how long she had slept, she was sure it hadn't been long enough to reach the desert… which was exactly where she was one.
"We're… still in the US, right?" Daphne said aloud, only half directing the question at the driving demon.
"Where we are isn't important," the demon replied.
She stared at him, a bit incredulously-like she was going to do anything with location information with the King of Hell holding her family over her head. It took a moment before she realized that they were slowing down, and she glanced out of her window again in time to see a front gate open up to a stucco-style, beige colored manor. Daphne ducked her head a bit lower to catch a glimpse of the manor's high roof, which was covered with red tiles. The SUV came to a stop just inside a three-car garage, and the demon exited first, stepping back to open the door for Daphne. Something told her that that had nothing to do with manners and everything to do with making sure she didn't do anything crazy.
It was a long step for her rather short legs down to the too-clean cement flooring. When she glanced up, she was a little bit surprised to see Crowley, still dressed in a similar suit, waiting in the garage entranceway to the manor.
"Welcome home, Daphne," he said, extending a hand to aid her up the three, small stone steps.
Daphne wrapped her arms about herself, taking the first step on her own-to prove that she didn't need his proffered hand.
"That's not funny," she murmured.
Crowley grinned. "It wasn't supposed to be. Now, come along. I'll show you to your room."
He turned and entered the manor, leaving Daphne to follow silently behind. He led her up a hallway that was made of a lightly-stained hardwood, taking the first left down another hall. He glanced over his shoulder at her, his grin still in place.
"To be under my thumb for a year, darling, you should consider yourself quite lucky," he said as they took the second right down yet another corridor-this one covered in beige, red, and blue patterned rugs.
It was bait, but Daphne sighed. "What do you mean?"
"Well, most of my other house guests are kept in rather… restrictive holdings. But you'll practically have free reign, my saintly princess."
Daphne pursed her lips, not wanting to think about the obvious meaning behind "restrictive holdings." She went back to her stance of silence as they finally arrived at a darkly stained door. Crowley gave the ornate, brass doorknob a twist and threw the door open in a flourish.
"Your humble abode," he said, stepping inside and sweeping his arms in a manner that indicated that Daphne follow after.
Her eyes widened. Humble was obviously defined incorrectly in Crowley's dictionary. The room was huge. Bigger than the living room and dining room combined in the home Daphne had left behind. Against the far wall was a lavish four-poster bed, its linen all done in white and gold-which truly stood out against the otherwise black lacquered wood of the framing. A door to the left of the bed led into a room that Daphne could not see from where she stood, and a large, oak bookshelf, covered in books, stood just off to her right. A small sofa covered some of the left-hand wall, and a low coffee table stood just before it. The walls were painted in a dark mauve, and the curtains on the high windows looked to be made of a heavy, heavy fabric that had every intention of blocking out every ounce of the bright sun outside.
"What do you think, my dear?" Crowley asked as Daphne advanced a bit farther, noticing now the tall dresser a foot or so from the sofa, and the large vanity beside the bookshelf.
"It's… beautiful," she said, defeated.
"I thought you might say that. You know, Daphne, it isn't all bad, this deal. I reward those who serve me well."
She whirled, her eyes narrowed.
"I'm only serving you because you gave me no choice!" she squeaked out, halfway in between righteous anger and caution.
Crowley shrugged. "Servitude is servitude, kitten. Besides, this is rather a Beauty and the Beast situation. Most women would enjoy that."
Daphne shook her head. "At least, in the movie, Belle had a way of seeing her father again."
"Ah," Crowley said, reaching into his jacket. "That reminds me. Here."
He pulled out what looked to be a small, brass coin and flipped it over to her. She caught it in both hands, and looked down to see that it was indeed a coin with strange markings she didn't recognize on it.
"What is this?" she asked.
"It's a tracking coin. I planted some in your home. This way, once activated, you can check in on your loved ones. Call it a sign of my good faith."
But Daphne's heart was back to racing. If there were coins planted in her home… then what was to prevent Crowley from finding out that Elle was really her daughter? And… and that Castiel… But the panic must have clearly shown on her face because Crowley chuckled again.
"That's the only one attached to those, I swear. Be a good little saint, and it'll remain that way."
"So that's it..." Daphne sighed sadly, looking down at the coin. "I do every tiny little thing you ask… and I get to live an easy life here. And… if I don't…"
"If you or your friends don't… well… I wouldn't want to be them, especially," Crowley said.
Daphne bit lightly at the inside of her lip. Putting her back to the demon, she made her way over to the dresser. Idly, just to give her body something else to do rather than the floating-or so it felt-that her legs were doing, she pulled open one of the drawers. Her eyes widened once more as she caught a glimpse of what was inside. She sat the coin atop the dresser and reached inside, yanking free a light blue cardigan. Whirling, she held it out, accusingly, at the King of Hell.
"This is mine!" she said.
Crowley scratched lightly at the thick stubble on his cheek, a look of pure confusion in his green eyes.
"Yes. I rather thought that was the point," he said. "I mean, you can't run around in only that one outfit for the entire year, now can you?"
But Daphne stalked toward him, still shoving the piece of clothing out like it was some kind of weapon or evidence of some heinous crime.
"How did you get it?" she demanded.
"I took it, sweetheart. Along with some other essentials of yours. Would you rather I put them back? Because providing your wardrobe isn't in the contract… but I'm rather a fine clothing fanatic, so it might be a relaxing venture for me to do so."
Daphne retracted the cardigan, hugging it tightly to her stomach. She shook her head, backing away a few steps.
"No, no. I just… you were in my room?"
Crowley laughed. "Is that what this is about? Oh, darling, my boys were all over your house after I snatched you… and we stayed that way until right before your darling sister and the kid woke up."
Daphne felt ill. Her lips were quivering, and her grip on the clothing in her hand tightened until she could feel her nails in her palm through the fabric. He was not only in her house… but… she didn't want to think of it. How easy it had been for him. Just a tidbit of information from Meg, and Crowley had been able to infiltrate her carefully hidden life in a snap. It was enough to make her want to crawl into the four-poster and lie there for days. But she had a feeling that that was not going to be an option for her.
"So…" she began, turning back to the dresser, tossing the cardigan inside, and shutting the drawer. "What is it that I'll be doing? I mean, what good can a saint be to the King of Hell?"
"Oh, a wondrous multitude of things, my sweet princess. In fact, there's an entire list on that tablet I mentioned to you earlier. However, there is one, very particular thing that I have an urge to see accomplished."
Daphne crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed on Crowley. "And what's that?"
"Your blood. Specifically, your blood's key usage in throwing wide open the gates of Hell. Spilling all my demons onto this Earth to do… well, whatever it is that I would want them to do."
All the color drained from Daphne's face. She shook her head.
"How… how is that possible? How can a saint's blood be used to open Hell?"
Crowley sighed, a dejected look on his face as he shrugged. "Honestly, there is an easier way about this. Or, at least, there was. You see, there used to be this tablet labeled 'demons,' but my nice little prophet went and made sure that it was unreadable to himself or any other prophet of the future. Quite disappointing. But, I am nothing if not enterprising. I found another way to crack open my Hellgates. But it's a bit of a process… and as it turns out, a saint's blood is needed at each turn. Which is where finding out about little ol' you comes into play."
Daphne was biting the inside of her lip again, taking a single, slow step toward Crowley.
"Remember our deal," she said quietly. "Remember. Me and my loved ones can't be harmed."
"So long as they, or you, do me no harm. Trust me, Daphne. I make a deal. I keep it," Crowley said. Smiling, he added, "But, until I decide to put you to work on opening my Hellgates, I'll have an assortment of fun little tasks for you to do. After all, if you don't use it, you lose it."
He put his back to her, heading for the door, when Daphne called him to a stop.
"What do you mean, 'fun little tasks'? And what's the first step? What do I have to do to open a Hellgate?"
"Like I said, there are several steps. Each one requires some of your precious blood. The first, if I remember correctly, involves a demon feeding from your blood during a special ritual."
Daphne fell back a few steps, and she just knew that the color was never coming back to her features now. Her breath was coming in quick, panicked puffs, and Crowley grinned at her. Her body quaked, and terrified didn't seem like a strong enough word. A demon had to feed from her? And that was the first step? She suddenly found herself backed up against the foot of the bed, her fingers clawing and twisting into the bedspread.
"As for the fun little task… one's coming due in about… oh, an hour or so. That gives you just long enough to freshen up, I believe," Crowley explained.
"What kind of task?" Daphne managed to ask.
"Oh, my favorite. A deal."
With that, Crowley left, and Daphne pursed her lips. He was going to bring her along on a demon deal? Her stomach knotted as her eyes finally trailed to the attached bathroom to her right. An hour to freshen up… which meant that Crowley probably expected her not to be wearing her scrubs when he came back for her. Shaking her head and sighing, she reluctantly dug through the dresser drawers and withdrew a new outfit. She locked herself inside the large, white-and-black bathroom, pausing to gaze at her pallid complexion in the mirror.
"What have I gotten myself into?" she moaned.
End Notes: A transitionary chapter, I'm afraid, but one that sort of sets the tone for Daphne's working life with Crowley. Can't wait to hear what you think of it, so drop me a line! Be kind, feed your authors, and click that nifty little comment button!