They all knew that after demon Dean had spiraled out of control, Crowley was left without his potential best friend. The thought of Dean, with his charming chaos and reckless abandon, lingered in the back of Crowley’s mind, nagging at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The King of Hell had enjoyed their wild escapades, reveling in the mischief they’d stirred together, but now Dean was gone, leaving only a void that this eager demon was trying to fill.

"I, to love the party, and I do love the ladies, and the classic rock and roll. Most importantly, I can debauch by your side without being a personal embarrassment," the demon proclaimed, puffing out his chest like a peacock trying to attract attention. His voice was a mix of bravado and desperation, each word dripping with a false confidence that only heightened the absurdity of the moment. "You'll see what I'm worth!"

"Oh, I can see already," Crowley replied, his tone laced with sarcasm. A smirk curled on his lips as he snapped his fingers. In an instant, the demon vanished in a cloud of sulfur and despair. The air shimmered with the remnants of his existence, leaving behind an unsettling silence that filled the chamber.

Crowley leaned back in his throne, surveying the darkened room with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Anyone else care to comment?" he called out, his voice echoing with a blend of authority and mirth.