Rowena was many things. Cold blooded. Ruthless. Powerful and power hungry. A witch, of course.

But she'd never been much of a mother.

She'd loathed Fergus for the circumstances of his birth, and that inherent dislike of him hadn't quite abated, even with his becoming Crowley.

But her second-born had changed her views of motherhood.

As soon as she held the crying babe in her arms, she'd felt that pesky connection slink into place. A love that couldn't quite be extinguished, no matter how logical or cruel she really should be. She told herself she'd eventually find a use for the kid - as a sacrifice, or power for a ritual, or she'd make them her apprentice, if they showed potential.

But over the years, those sworn ends for her child never happened. Instead, she showered them with as much affection that she could muster. She made sure other witches couldn't see her behavior - she still had a reputation to uphold. But otherwise, she almost downright doted on her child - in her own, cold way.

(And as a fun bonus, she knew Crowley was a little jealous of his younger half-sibling and their mother's love for them - though he'd never outright say it. An amoral, dreaded demon king should really be over his mommy issues, after all. She really was kind of helping him get over the last trace of his silly, mortal angst.)

Rowena heard the door to her quarters open. She'd been busy with her own spell work, but she allowed herself a moment of, dare she say it, humanity - as she looked upon her second born. She even smiled as she greeted them.

"Ah, there you are, my darling. Could you be a dear, and pass me that there bottle?"

She nodded towards a bottle on a table closest to her child.