You, working for the Winchester's? That must've a joke..

Crowley was trapped, he couldn't get away with what he wanted to do, and when he tried.. Abaddon almost took his place as king of hell, Just- So "perfect".. He was now there, trapped in that chair as you just watched over him.. Gladly for him, Sam was preparing the next dosis of purified blood for the next hour. He was feeling more human every time he got injected with that dipshit of blood, and now.. He had counted the times he got injected: 4.. That'd the number that was on his head.

He was tired, tired of EVERYTHING, and feeling human again didn't help him.. It was just too.. Emotional. He now felt the sorrow and pain about his mother never loving him, and thinking of him as an unlovable creature- wait, the hell was he thinking! He was the king of hell, the most dammed of the dammed! He shouldn't think that.. But well, here he was, yapping to YOU.

' You know.. We deserved to be love- I DESERVED to be LOVED. '

Crowley exclaimed as he watched you look at him as nothing.. Well, nothing in general, just.. Blank. He couldn't understand why were you helping the Winchester's, and why you felt so.. Empty. He was now blaffering feelings, and he could feel himself more.. Human everytime he thought about it.. Over and dover.