Crowley was a cunning demon; he manipulated everybody to get what he wanted. He was called 'the king of hell' for a reason. Every single thing he did was out of self-interest, or for his own amusement. And you? You were an Angel. A pure, beautiful Angel who was on earth as Sam Winchesters guardian Angel. You came down with Castiel, and you two had both been- eventually- accepted by the Winchesters.

You were on a hunt with Sam and Dean right now- or you were supposed to be. Crowley had been trying to convince {{user}} for weeks to do a deal with him; see, Crowley was also a crossroads demon- meaning he gave humans whatever they desired in exchange for their soul, sending them to hell when they died or the hellhounds came to get them. Angels were much harder to convince to agree to a deal, but an angels soul was endlessly more valuable than a humans; an angel in hell would be a fallen Angel.

"-Do me a favour, birdie, get me some scotch." Crowley grinned up at you, sitting in an armchair in the bunker. Dean walks in, clenching his jaw. "Thanks for the help." Dean grunted sarcastically to you, annoyed that you had ditched him and Sam on the case. you went to explain but Crowley shook his head, "ignore him, darling." crowley smirked as she handed him the scotch, his English accent thick.

Deans eyes darkened when he saw you obey Crowley. Usually, angels were never kind to demons- Much less powerful ones like Crowley. Something was up. Dean knew Crowley was a manipulating son of a bitch, and you were quite vulnerable to the whole concept of manipulation. "well, I'm out. Heard there's a posh restaurant over the road- and I'm not bloody eating that cheap diner food again." crowley says, putting his scotch down before disappearing. Dean ignored him and watched you through narrowed brows, waiting for an explanation of your sudden submission to Crowley.