Original AU gifset by kneeling-superwholock-whore on Tumblr and available here at my tumblr /post/100360560615/destielcr7-femmestiel

"Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, I have a very special announcement to make."

Down in the depths of Hell, bodies of damned souls writhed together underneath a glass floor – this was Crowley's style. He enjoyed the tortures, of course, but these shoes were expensive and there was something much more satisfying about standing on top of all those tortured, pathetic things that had once been the best and brightest of the bunch.

A woman pressed her hand against the glass from below, her mouth wide open in a scream. Crowley raised an eyebrow and cupped his hand against his ear. "Sorry, love, can't hear you," he said, before he stamped his heel against the glass and she shrank away, back to the roiling tumult of Hell's underbelly, the thick layer of screaming souls that separated the anthill of lesser demons from those higher up.

The room was set up like an office, with the glass floor stretching the length of the average ballroom in a big oval shape. At the bottom of the oval was a flat wall built from big slats of wood inlaid with gold and silver – no iron in Hell, unfortunately.

There was a large table stretching the length of the room and Crowley paced his way towards the end, hands clasped behind his back. There were no less than fifty higher-ranking demons gathered, seated in their places. Everything had its proper place in this new Hell, which again Crowley found strangely satisfying. He was an organized demon at heart.

He smiled at those gathered, taking in the elongated faces, the stretching and curled horns, the sharp and yellow teeth. He was, it seemed, the only demon who bothered to maintain a human visage when down in Hell. His true form was just too filthy and dripped ooze wherever he slithered. Very unsanitary, in his opinion.

In the wooden wall was a single giant door, ornate and golden. As Crowley lifted one hand, gesturing to it, the gathered demons turned in their seats and watched as it swung open.

The subtle fire-glow that was present in most of Hell flickered, darkening for a moment as a figure stepped into the room. He was, mercifully, also presenting himself as a human, but only a very foolish or a very unobservant thing would assume he was an ordinary man. He walked with the same ease as his Sire, like he owned whichever room he entered.

The door swung shut behind him and he came to a stop at the other end of the table, his eyes on Crowley. His lips were slightly parted, the corners just slightly turned up like he was holding back a sneer.

"May I introduce Castiel to you," Crowley said, his voice echoing through the hall and breaking the tense silence that had fallen over the gathered demons. A few visibly flinched at the sound of his voice. At the sound of his name, the thing's – Castiel's – chin lifted, his shoulders rolling as though the weight of his name was a physical weight on his shoulders. "My son…and your future king."

At that, the sneer on Castiel's face melted into a somewhat more genuine smile. He grinned at his Sire, and the fire-glow darkened again. It was then that the reason became obvious – two huge, black wings were casting their shadows out across the back wall, arching up in a display of power and dominion.

Not a single demon in Hell had wings. Not since the last Fallen, Azazel, had died.

"Angel of darkness," Crowley said, his voice more somber as he lowered his hand and began to circle the table, towards Castiel, who kept his sharp, narrowed blue eyes on Crowley as he moved closer. "And Prince of Hell."

The wings disappeared when Crowley reached out to rest his hands against Castiel's shoulder, as though the dark Angel couldn't bear the thought of his Sire touching them. "My pride and joy," Crowley said with a proud smile, before he brushed down Castiel's shoulders and made a show of fixing Castiel's tie and his windswept hair.

He turned around and smiled at the gathered demons. A few of them – the smarter ones – were looking at Castiel with barely disguised fear. "He's finally joining the ranks, boys and girls. Now, playtime can really begin."

"Father." Castiel's voice was whisper-quiet, but cut through the soft murmuring in the hall like a blade. Even the screams of the souls below seemed to go quiet at the sound of his voice, the mice scattering at the presence of a wolf among them. "I heard that the Righteous Man had recently come here."

"Ah, yes," Crowley said. "One of Alistair's, I believe," he added with a gesture to one of the demons sat at the far end of the table. Alistair bared his sharp, shark-like set of yellow teeth, his eyes flat and white, goat's legs splayed out lazily in his chair and horns gleaming in the fire-glow in the room.

Castiel's eyes narrowed, fixed on the demon. "I want him," he said, dimming the glow again as his wings shifted, restless. Though the demand was one of a petulant child, the way he said it made it clear that he would not hesitate to take what he wanted, permission granted or otherwise.

Alistair blinked at Castiel, head cocked to one side. "You are a child," Alistair hissed, snake-tongue forking out around his teeth. "And Dean Winchester is important."

Castiel's upper lip twitched. "I want him," he said again, and a strong gust of wind blew across the banquet hall as his wings stretched, ready for a fight. His fingers twisted and around Alistair, the glass floor began to crack. Castiel's eyes dropped to the souls writhing below, that same near-feral smile on his face as he watched them clawing between the cracks, desperate to escape. "They look eager to see you again."

Thought Alistair didn't flinch, Crowley was quick to cast a warning glare to Castiel. "Now, now, Castiel – you need to learn to play well with others."

Castiel flicked his eyes away, unconcerned for Alistair's precarious position. "I want Dean Winchester," he stated, his tone making it clear that it would be the final time he bothered with anything close to politeness. "It would be in your best interests to give him to me, Father."

Crowley blinked, before he subsided with a smile that was a little too bright. "Whatever my boy wants," he said, clapping his hand on Castiel's shoulder. The dark Angel looked like he was barely fighting the urge to bite Crowley's hand for his trouble. "You know where he is."

Castiel nodded, and his bright, icy eyes turned back to Alistair. With a flick of his wrist the glass repaired itself and the demon was no longer in danger of falling through. "I don't want to be disturbed," he said, before he turned and strode out of the room. The giant door opened with a flick of his wrist, uncaring for the weight or the fine detail as it slammed into the wooden wall as he passed through.

Alistair chuckled, the sound like a hissing snake. "Now that's going to be an interesting one," he said, his white eyes glowing and amused.

Crowley huffed, pushing the door back into place with a small flex of his will. The door had left a deep impression in the wood from the force of Castiel's strength. "Yes, well, if he survived his mother, he can survive anything." He made his way slowly, leisurely, back to the head of the table, and took his seat. "Now that that's out of the way, on with business."