Into the Pit (Crowley x Reader) pt.4

It had been three hundred years since you had accepted Crowley's offer. Crowley came and went as he wished, not giving you much attention for a hundred years at a time which you figured to be about a month on the surface; there were times when you caught him gazing at you with a peculiar look when he thought you wouldn't notice.
Your ability to listen to Angel Chatter over the decades had shielded you every day from the endless screams and shrieks.
Also, you hadn't aged a day in Hell, but, unknown to you, your soul's glow was lessening every few years.
You had never once left the magnificent mansion in those three hundred years and you had decided, since Crowley was away, you would take your first steps out into Hell and explore its brimstone and fires.

You could hear the souls outside every once in a while call out to you, saying, "Devil's wife, show us some pity!"
All you could do was ignore them and hope they’d stop calling to you for help; Crowley had told you that it was against the rules to help them and therefore you shouldn’t even think about giving them a hand…ever.

Crowley didn’t know that you were going to go and explore Hell and you had no intention of telling him or letting him find out. You’d learned after a few years that Crowley’s Demon guards in the mansion were afraid to even look at you, much less talk to you or lay a finger on you for fear of what the King of Hell might do; you took this advantage and made sure that they would keep their traps shut about you leaving.
You were dressed in a sexy form-fitting scarlet dress that was cut low in the back and a long slit that ran from the bottom to the middle of your right thigh. There was nothing else to wear; Crowley wouldn’t allow casual wear, as he talked of his distastefully often, but he made sure that you never wore the same dress twice, always keeping the wardrobe supplied.

You’d also gotten acquainted, well enough, with Crowley’s huge and terrifying Hellhound: Growley. Thought it scared the living Hell out of you, you’d grown used to it and found that if you fed him regularly, he’d be fine and as pleasant as you could imagine a Hellhound being.

You took a daring bare-footed step out the doorway and onto the burning ground outside. You felt nothing; it was all because of the deal that nothing of the Hellfire could hurt you.
You took a few steps and breathed in…brimstone…and blood. It took a few moments before you could bring yourself to breathe it all in without puking.

You walked for hours, getting nowhere fast and the farther you got, the worse the displays of violence you saw; the deeper you went in, the more you saw of terrified faces, blood splattering and squelching out of peoples’ bodies, and body parts flying about as people combusted, were torn to bits by Demons and Hellhounds, and tortured each other with the hopes that they would be let off the rack by the important Demons.
You, however, didn’t hear one part of it; you had perfected your Angel Chatter listening skills but you still hadn’t found a way to talk to them; you could only relish the sound of their voices.

After a few more hours of walking, you had stopped crying from the horrors you’d been seeing and you stood still, staring at a huge iron cage with white and blue writing in some indiscernible language written on each of the bars.
You tilted your head and gingerly kept walking, listening to nothing in particular since the Angels had stopped talking for now.
You tuned into the sounds of Hell for the first time in three hundred years to be met by the sound of…surprisingly nothing but far off cries; not enough to stir your imagination very much at all.
“Don’t worry. You don’t have to listen to the screams…” a calm and gentle voice mumbled from the cage.

“Who are you?” you asked, stepping up to the bars and marveling at the unreadable words. Behind the bars, you could see nothing but the silhouette of someone huddled in the middle of the platform inside.
You saw the form move and it looked like the person was looking at you.
Suddenly the person was in front of you, setting his hands and forehead on the bars while looking at you wistfully.
You took a startled step back.
“Don’t go.” He said quietly.
You took a deep breath and inched a bit closer.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Lucifer.” He said slowly, staring into your eyes. He had dusty blonde hair and blue eyes; his face had a natural sadness to it and his eyes contained anger, sorrow, and utter loathing; there was also an unwavering aura of fear surrounding him.
“Like…the Devil?” you breathed in disbelief.
He nodded and smirked slightly. He looked exhausted.
“Wh-Why’re you in this cage thing?” you asked shakily.
Lucifer didn’t blink.
“Don’t be afraid of me, (Y/N). I won’t hurt you; I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to.” He said softly in a sickeningly soothing tone.

You gathered all the courage you could and held his gaze.
“I’m not going to lie to you either, or trick you. There’s no reason to.” He finished.
“…What do you want from me?” you asked after a moment.
“I’m lonely. I just want to talk.” He said.
“Well, you can start with how you got put in this cage.” You said abruptly.
Lucifer thought for a long moment, rubbing the metal of the bars with his fingertips.
“I’m in this cage because I fell from Heaven and I fell because I loved God too much.”
“That’s a pile of shit!” you spat, suddenly enraged.
“You didn’t love God too much: you didn’t love God enough! You were too full of pride and greed to bow to Him and his creations. You rebelled against Him.” you hissed angrily.
“I wasn’t about to bow down to you miserable creatures of sinful imperfection.” Lucifer growled, closing his eyes. You glared at him and when his eyes opened he looked just as tired and sad as ever, a fire of anger still burning in his eyes.

“What’s the wife of the King of Hell doing exploring anyways?” Lucifer changed the subject.
“I’m not his wife.” You said curtly.
“You might as well be.” he retorted.
“…He doesn’t know I’m out here…” you admitted, looking down.
“Crowley will find out one way or another. My son is very clever.” Lucifer informed you; you could hear him smile.
You looked up at him in surprise.
“Crowley’s your son?” you asked.

“In a way, they’re all my sons and daughters…yes.” Lucifer replied.
Silence again.
“Why do you look so sad?” you asked.
Lucifer looked a bit surprised by your question.
“I miss Heaven I guess?” he said.
“No, that’s not it…it’s something else.” You prodded.
His face fell and you almost felt sorry for him; almost but not quite.

“I was…or am, married.” He said quietly.
“You’re married…?” you echoed in amazement.
“What’s the Demoness’ name?” you asked haughtily; you found it partially amusing that the Devil had a wife; it almost made him seem weak.
“She was NOT a Demon!” Lucifer spat, startling you.
“She was one of the most glorious Angels I had ever laid my eyes on…” his voice trailed off.
“I apologize.” You said, only a little sarcastic.
“What was her name?”
“…It doesn’t matter…” he mumbled, turning away.
“Okay…what’re these glowing letters?” you asked, pointing to the bars of the cage.
“They keep the cage locked.” Lucifer explained slowly.
“Why’re they glowing?”
“The blue is…my Grace, and the white is from the finger of…Him.” Lucifer said hesitantly.
Silence once more.
You sighed and turned to walk away.
Turning back to him, you looked down.
“I’m…I’ll visit again if I can.” You said, not really sure why you did; he was the Devil; he was pure evil.
“I look forward to it.” He said with a smile.

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When you made it back to Crowley’s mansion you were met by Crowley himself standing in the doorway.
He didn’t look very happy.
You cleared your throat and looked away from Crowley's gaze. It was, by now, nighttime and all the tortures had come to an end to wait till morning; the Demons used hope as another form of torturing: hope in the minds of those with no hope.

Just after you set both soot covered feet past the doorway, Crowley grabbed your upper arm a bit tightly and led you to the bedroom.
Once inside, you walked silently to the bathroom to change into whatever Crowley had just handed to you, which happened to be a gray and short slip, and walked back out to sit next to Crowley on the bed and watch him take his gray tie off.

"How was your day outside of the mansion, love?" Crowley asked calmly.
"It wasn't very pleasant." You replied quietly.
"Why would you leave? What could the fires of Hell hold that I don't have in here?" He asked, his voice getting gruff.
"Nothing...I was just curious..." you said slowly, looking down.
"Did you make it all the way to Lucifer?" Crowley questioned after a moment, his tie now undone as he unbuttoned a few of the top buttons if his black shirt.

“Yes.” You said bluntly; you knew better than to lie to him.
“Why does it matter? You never told me I couldn’t leave the mansion…’ you continued.
Crowley was quiet for a long moment before he lifted your chin and looked you in the eye.
He squinted his eyes and searched yours.
“Would it be so hard for you to believe that I may actually care, darlin’?” he asked.
“Can a Demon ‘care’?” you answered his question with a question, daringly.
"Unlike Angels, Demons don't have to learn emotions; we try not to...remember them." Crowley said.
“Also, being the King of Hell means I can do and feel anything I want.” He added indignantly.
“…Just stay away from the bloody Devil, okay?” he asked of you uncharacteristically.

“Why? He can’t do anything to me he said so.” You said defiantly.
“He was lying. Of course he can hurt you.” Crowley said exasperatedly.
“But…the deal-”
“Lucifer is an Angel. He’s not of the Hellfire which means he can do whatever he wants to you if you let him trick you. Don’t go back there.” Crowley said in a tone that let you know that the conversation was over.

You sighed and tuned in to the Angel Chatter, as Crowley began to kiss you; you were beginning to like it, actually.
None of the Angels were talking. Crowley leaned over you and continued to kiss you.
‘I wish Castiel and Gabriel could hear me…’ you thought distantly. You began to kiss him back, sliding a hand up his chest to his shoulder and up his neck to his rough hair.
'We can.'