/This is my absolute first time writing a one off Crobby fanfic! Dedicated to FireChildSlytherin5 for giving me the idea in the first place! It's nice to take a break once in a while and do something new. /

Robert Singer would never forget the first time he laid eyes on Crowley. Of course, that was back in 1980, 5 years after his wife, Karen, died. He had been hunting with Rufus ever since 1975, where under Rufus' guidance, he began to slowly learn and accumulate knowledge about everything supernatural, and after five years, he was a seasoned professional.

Monday found them at Colorado Springs, where a young woman had gone missing from her home. Leah Johnson, 38, had been living alone in a small house, and had vanished without a trace. Bobby and Rufus, as usual, took a cover as FBI agents and checked out the house. The town sheriff updated them on the case as they investigated.

"You know something?" Sheriff Moley interrupted, scratching his chin thoughtfully, "This house smelt like a dozen cows farted in here when we first came in."

Bobby and Rufus shared a meaningful glance. The lingering scent of rotten eggs could only mean that a demon had been here. "How long has Ms Johnson been missing, Sheriff?" Rufus asked.

"48 hours as of 6'o clock." The sheriff informed them, puffing up his chest, his fingers in his belt loops.

"We'll be in touch." Bobby murmured, before they left the house, and drove back to their motel.

"The timeline makes sense." Rufus commented, staring at their little board of overlapping newspaper articles. "In the last week, Ryan Philips, a local, won the lottery. A terminal cancer patient in the Colorado Springs hospital miraculously recovers."

"A little too good to be true." Bobby shook his head. "Whaddya think, Rufus?"

"Crossroads demon is what I'm thinking." Rufus sighed. "Those fuckers cover their tracks real good Bobby. Could be weeks till we catch 'im."

''Jus' gotta wait it out I s'pose." Bobby sighed, frustrated. Young and still aching from the death of his beloved wife, all he wanted to do was kill every evil son of a bitch out there.

"Part of bein' a hunter is patience Bobby. The sooner you learn that the better." Rufus advised, his eyebrows raised in warning.

"I'm going to the bar." Bobby muttered, grabbing his coat.

"You ain't gonna get rid of your memories, drinkin' yourself to death like that, boy."

Bobby ignored that, closing the door none too gently behind him.

The bar was crowded, mostly with the regular old-timers who flirted with the young bartender and barked at each other from across the room. Bobby took a seat at the very end of the bar counter, furthest from all the noise. Bobby ruffled his hair, moodily and asked for a whiskey. He stared down at the somewhat filthy countertop, mulling over the case. It was always difficult tracking demons in general. They relied mostly on newspaper reports of bizarre cases or weather as well as tip offs from hunters and sympathizers.

"Bad day?" A honeyed, polished voice floated into his awareness. Snapping his head up, he located the source of the voice, and eyed it grumpily.

"Guess you could say that." Bobby traced the rim of the glass the bartender sat in front of him.

"A scotch please, neat." The man who seated himself beside him was dressed in a grey suit. His hair was receding slightly, above steely, intelligent eyes. His gaze was very slightly reptilian, and he smiled at Bobby charmingly.

As Crowley sat down, he extended a hand to Bobby. "The name's Crowley, by the way."

"Bobby Singer." Bobby shook the proffered hand, reddening slightly as Crowley's touch lingered a little too long.

Bobby eyed his new companion. He didn't really look like a flaming homosexual, not that Bobby could accurately guess at such things. Most guys like this in bars in small towns were pretty shady. They didn't talk to no one, and did their stuff and left.

"You from outta town?" He asked, gruffly as he sipped his whiskey.

"Well, I'm here on business. I suppose I'll be gone in a few days."

Bobby couldn't understand why he was so drawn to this stranger. Perhaps it was the enigma that surrounded him. Most folks Bobby met were simple enough, but he could sense how complicated this man was. Behind the pale eyes, there were secrets, and Bobby could see that. His hunter instincts should have made him know better than that, but Bobby couldn't help himself. He was fascinated and also unusually attracted to this man. That made him more than a little uncomfortable.

They chatted for a while, not really scratching the surface. All he found out was that Crowley was a businessman who travelled from town to town looking for deals. What kind of deals, Bobby wasn't sure.

"So what do you do, Bobby?" Crowley probed, a hint of a smile curving his lips.

"I'm a mechanic." Bobby said. "Came here on a road trip with m'buddy."

Crowley's eyes bore into him, a corner of his lips quirking up in a half smile. "I see."

"My wife died," Bobby continued, in lieu of the stranger's silence. "Five years ago. Haven't really been the same since, I guess."

"I'm sorry." Crowley said gravely. "I truly am." Bobby was touched at the obvious sincerity in the other's words.

"Don't be." Bobby told him, hoarsely. "Ain't your fault anyways."

"You've been alone ever since?"

"Pretty much."

"You should move on, Bobby." Something about the way Crowley whispered his name made Bobby shiver with shameful pleasure. He was painfully aware of how long it had been since he'd been with someone. Crowley placed a palm on Bobby's thigh. Bobby looked at it in a haze of lust. He wasn't drunk, not in the least, but he didn't feel in his right mind either. He simply stared at Crowley's hand without a word of protest and so the other man simply moved his hand up, higher and higher until it was an inch away from Bobby's crotch.

Crowley spread out his palm against Bobby's jeans-clad upper thigh and let his fingers brush gently over Bobby's trapped cock. Thanking the divine powers that their corner of the bar was dark, Bobby reflexively jerked his hips into Crowley's hand. A hot flush creeped up Bobby's neck and around his face, and he breathed heavily, his eyes wide, pupils dilated.

"I'll be at Room 2 tomorrow night, Bobby." Crowley leaned in, murmuring into Bobby's ear, knowing fully well that his hot breath was driving him crazy. Then, he left. Bobby watched him leave out the front door of the bar, mouth open, brain still not functioning. Minutes later, he got himself together enough to hold his coat in front of the embarrassing erection he'd gotten and shuffle shame-faced out of the bar.

By the time he drove to their shared motel room, Rufus was snoring on one of the beds, but his cock still felt annoyingly stiff. Without really thinking, he got some clothes out of his duffel and hightailed it to the bathroom where he pulled off all his clothes as fast as he could. Getting into the shower, he turned on the power to full, gasping as the rivulets of warm water hit his chest, stomach and slowly hardening erection. Bobby let his fingers drift from his neck to his tight nipples and down to his stomach. Years of training had made the abdominal muscles hard and unrelenting and his shoulders broad and muscular. Bobby couldn't contain himself any longer.

Curling his hand around his length, he began with long strokes along it, feeling the spring inside him coil and tighten. Grunting, he began pumping his dick harder and harder. Almost there, now, Bobby could feel it. He was incredibly turned on, thoughts on the way Crowley had touched him through his jeans, on how amazing it would feel to have Crowley's mouth around his erection. With a gasp, he came hard all over his fist. The hot liquid was quickly washed away by the falling water, and after thoroughly cleaning himself, Bobby stepped out of the shower, feeling guilty but sated.

The next night found him in an awful dilemma. Go to Crowley's room or don't go to Crowley's room?

He paced in tight circles in their tiny motel room, trying to make up his mind. Rufus watched him with a confused air, but didn't pursue it. He didn't want to know. Instead, he read the newspapers and stared at the little board of articles they had made, hanging on the motel room wall. There wasn't much to do, hunting wise. Not at the moment anyway, and they were supposed to visit the cancer patient the day after, so Bobby had nothing to think about except how much he wanted to fuck Crowley and whether it would be morally permissible. Well, at least by whatever morals he had left.

After all, his wife had died five years ago. Five years was a long time! And he hadn't been with anyone since. His urges were under control, but once in a while, he just really wanted to have sex again. Crowley was not the first person he'd been attracted to, but he was certainly the first person to actually show an interest in a one night stand with him. They both were only in town for a few days, that premise had been very clear from the very beginning. So why not? Bobby decided to go, as soon as Rufus was asleep. He didn't want to lie to the older man.

So once Rufus was dead to the world, Bobby pulled back the covers, and crept out of their room. Within minutes, he found Crowley's room, and summoning all of his courage, knocked on the door.

Crowley answered almost immediately, a smug, cat-like smile plastered on his face.

Seeming to sense Bobby's internal conflict, Crowley took his hand and pulled him in, shutting the door quietly. Bobby took a moment to just stand there awkwardly, his hands in his coat pockets, and looked around the room. A pretty standard motel room, just a tad bit nicer than he was used to. It was spacious with a big, clean bed. Bobby found himself staring at the bed, with a very real understanding of what he was agreeing to.

"I-" He gulped and pulled off his cap, kneading it in his hands.

Crowley said nothing. He simply took Bobby's face in his hands and kissed him with a force that turned Bobby on more than he would ever admit. Bobby pulled off his coat, discarding it as they kissed. Passion rose, suffocating and intoxicating as their clothes came off, their moans interspersed with the ripping of fabric or the popping of a button. Soon, they were nude and sprawled on the bed. Crowley hovered over him, slowly moving against him, their erections rubbing together. Bobby threw his head back at the steady pleasure, biting down on his lip, jerking up into Crowley's hip. He gasped when he felt warm lips encase his hard cock. Looking down at Crowley's head bobbing up and down on his dick, Bobby reached for the other man's chest, letting his hands run over the slightly sweaty skin. His finger circled a nipple, and he pinched it experimentally, grinning as Crowley jumped, gasping.

"Stop, I think I'm about to come." He bit out at Crowley, his fist moving up and down on the other man's penis, swiping his thumb over the head.

Crowley pulled his lips off his cock with a soft pop, and positioned himself over Bobby. Bobby watched Crowley apply lube to his thick member, groaning softly at the feel of the slick, cool gel. He wasn't prepared for the sharp pleasure that shot through him, arching his back, when Crowley slid down onto his dick, all the way to the base. For a moment, they were stationary, Bobby enjoying the feel of the tightness around his throbbing cock. Then Crowley began to ride him, hard. Bobby let out a strangled scream as the spring inside him tightened and coiled, waiting for the sweet release. He grabbed Crowley's stiff cock and jerked on it, erratically, watching his partner's face redden and his eyes darken in lust.

"Come for me." He whispered to Crowley, and within moments felt a warm liquid spurt out onto his stomach as Crowley groaned and gasped. That threw him over the edge and he came so hard into Crowley that he blacked out.

Hours later, when he came to, Bobby found himself back in his room, under the sheets of his own bed, fully dressed. He had no recollection of how he got there. Rufus didn't suspect a thing.

They never did catch that crossroads demon.