Chapter Text
There was a minute of awkwardness. Crowley and Rowena were standing on each side of the room, with a dead demon in the middle.
"Nothing clever to say, Fergus?" said Rowena with a faint smile.
"Mother. What a displeasing surprise." Crowley had a bitter taste in his mouth.
"Oh , come on Fergus, you can do better than that." Rowena sat on the bed and rested her feet on the demon's body.
"Get to the point, Mother. I don't have the time to chitchat with you. Why have you killed my demons?!" he said, raising his voice.
"Come on Fergus, isn't that obvious?" She sighed "They attacked me, a poor and defenseless woman."
"So you killed them. Three of my demons!"
"I don't think you really mind." she said
He didn't really. These three asshats were as useful as dogs able to play the piano. He was mostly pissed by the fact that his mother killed these clowns.
"I DO mind!" He rolled his eyes."No one touches my demons but me!"
"Anyways, now that you're here, I do need your help."
"Too much words, mother. Where. Is . The. Artifact?"
Rowena took a deep breath. Crowley braced himself.
"Well." She cleared her throat." How do I put that simply? It's in your head."
"WHAT?!" Roared Crowley. "Explain yourself!"
"It's not a metaphor, sadly, it's literally in your skull." Rowena stood up.
"Are you kidding me?! Remove it! What the hell is this thing."
Rowena looked around awkwardly:
"It's complicated..."
"Explain yourself. Now."
She sighed again:
"It's a tracking device. I mean it's obviously more complicated than that, but you wouldn't understand."
Crowley was boiling. He responded in an extremely low voice.
"So to recapitulate, you implanted a tracking device in my skull. Are you spying on me mother?!"
"No. No. I was drinking this nice bottle of Dom Pérignon..."
"I don't care. Remove it or I feed you to my hounds."
Rowena smiled, a little embarrassed:
"Well."
"Well WHAT?!" screamed Crowley, out of patience.
"I don't remember the spell I used but... but I know somewhere we can get it."
Crowley was worried. Events were taking a turn for the worst.
"Where?" he asked in a faint voice
"The Men of Letter's Bunker."