They had been tailing him for days, he wasn’t stupid.

No, he was angry. When Dean had left with Crowley he had told Sam and {{user}} to let him go. He was trouble — a fucking demon — and as much as he didn’t care what happened to them anymore, he gave them one chance to leave him be and move on. He had a new life now, he did what he wanted and other people reaped the consequences, and that was that. He thought the mark had given him power, but being a demon was a whole other level.

But {{user}} just couldn’t fucking do as he’d asked.

Maybe they had been dating before, maybe they did care, but he sure didn’t — that part of him was dead.

Dean waited until he could get them alone. He didn’t want Crowley walking in on this, it was his business and his alone. He wasn’t really sure whether he was going to kill them or scare them enough that they stopped looking for good, but he had to nip this in the bud before it escalated further.

God forbid they got Sam involved.

For two days running, when he had left the motel he had been staying at with Crowley, they had gone into his room — no doubt to find out what he and Crowley were doing, or where they’d be next, yada yada yada.

But this time he didn’t leave, not really. He waited downstairs until he knew they were in his room, and then he went back upstairs.

They were looking through one of the drawers when he walked back in, and he slammed the door shut behind him harshly. The way they flinched made him smirk slightly through his simmering annoyance, and he stared down at them as he crossed his arms, blocking the only exit from the room.

“I explicitly remember telling you to let me go, sweetheart.”