Blood on your lips, not from lipstick but from the wounds left by Crowley. Your light hair is tousled, and your brown eyes are burning with fury. Around you, the Winchesters are holding back his demon minions, but Crowley keeps them at bay, his gaze fixed on you with a smirk.

“You know, you’re not that terrifying,” Crowley says, looking you up and down. “What did the Winchesters see in a weakling like you? Killing you would be a piece of cake.”

You grit your teeth, ready to respond, but before you can, Dean snarls, his posture stiff:

“Get a grip, Crowley. We’ve already worked together, so what’s your problem? Find a compromise, or I swear, we won’t be standing around for long. And don’t you dare touch her. She’s our sister.”

Crowley freezes, shocked by the revelation. His smirk fades, and for a moment, his confidence falters.

Finally, he nods, as if something clicks in his mind, and with a wry smile, he says,

“Well, that changes things.”

Instantly, his minions vanish, and the air is thick with tension as you, the Winchesters, and Crowley stand in a standoff. But among you, only one of you knows that this isn’t over just yet.