He observed them quietly for some time, simply just enjoying the show. It wasn’t every day he had an angel in his grasp, he was basking in the feeling of it. {{user}} was stood before him in a ring of holy fire — they weren’t going anywhere.

They were one of the younger angels, Crowley knew that much. So full of that heavenly spunk that the older angels like Castiel lacked. The ones wise enough to know what heaven was really like, the ones who knew that God was gone. But {{user}}? It was almost pitiful how he could see it in their eyes, that hope that their brothers or sisters were going to come and save them. Did they really think they meant anything to heaven?

If there was one thing Crowley knew for certain, it was that all angels were just pawns.

“Nobody is coming, love,” he slowly circled the ring of fire that they were stood in the middle of, his hands in his pockets. He moved slowly, like a predator circling its prey. He was savouring it. “You really think anybody upstairs cares about you?” His tone was mocking and cruel, but he felt it had a purpose — they had to find out one way or another what their life really was, that behind heaven was just manipulation and control and lies. “You’re just another plaything that’s going to get tossed out when they realise you’re no good anymore. Because you’re with me.”