This fic is set in a constantly changing AU which basically means anything I want to happen can happen. It's kinda confusing. Just go with it. It's good I swear. ;)

"The next time you open my damn fridge, I will exorcise your ass back to hell."

"Try it, darling. You'll wake up tomorrow and I'll be in your bed again."

"Smartass."

"You have too much beer in here, you know that?"

"Well then if I die, make a deal and bring me back."

"With who? Myself?"

"You know what I meant, idiot."

"You always were the least articulate of us." They leant sideways and threw their arm over their, admittedly ticked off, partner.

"Get outta here with your fancy-ass accent."

"Oh, Bobby. Every time with the accent thing. Again, America is a colony. This, this is the original accent."

"Yeah, yeah, just keep outta my fridge."

"Our fridge, Bobby. Our fridge. I share your bed, I share your fridge. It's our fridge."

"Not once have I ever asked you to sleep in my bed. You just... appear."

"Just one of the many perks. And that's not what you said last night." Crowley reached for the fridge handle again.

"How do you remember what I said last night if you don't remember what I said thirty seconds ago? Keep outta my damn fridge!"

"Keep out of the fridge, take off that manky hat, it's all the same."

"This hat is older than you!"

"Somehow I doubt that." Crowley opened the fridge and took out a bottle of beer. He swung the fridge door shut and stride over to the table. He swiped his arm across it and all of the paper and newspaper cuttings fell off the table and onto the floor."

"Hey! You clean all that up!"

"No." Crowley sat down and put his feet on the table, clearly pleased with himself. "Well, it's not like this place is exactly the most sanitary place on Earth."

"Go to hell, Crowley."

"Been there, done that. Decided to hook up with you instead." Bobby looked at Crowley, as if to say 'as if I want you to'.

"Well okay then, if I'm unwanted I'll just pop off back to my throne." Bobby looked at Crowley again, but differently, as if to say 'no, don't go. Stay.' This was the first time in a while that George had admitted it.

"I'll stay. But no devil's traps."

"No devil's traps."

"I'm, er, I'm going to need to you confirm that. How about a deal? Your soul for my promise."

"And what exactly are you promising? What am I giving my soul up for?"

"Well you're just going to have to make the deal and find out."

"You know, there are much better ways to get me to kiss you."

"Yes, well, this way never gets old."

And within seconds a deal was sealed.

Neither of them heard the door close and Sam and Dean come in with seven shopping bags between them. Dean put the bags down on the table, opened one, and said with utter euphoria, "Pie!" It was only then that Bobby and Crowley sprang apart.

"Toodles boys." said Crowley, and disappeared.

"So, any jobs worth working?" asked Bobby, trying to detract attention from what had just happened.

"Yeah, actually." said Dean. "There's this one, really close to here actually, there's this demon that's going round hooking up with old men." Sam burst out laughing, and Bobby glared at them.

"Haha, very funny."

"On a more serious note, we do actually have a job." said Sam, putting down his shopping bags and beginning to take things out.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it looks like a haunting in Point Marc in Illinois."

"Okay, you two get on that, I'll man the phones."

"Oka-"

"Seriously? Are we not gonna talk about what we just walked in on?"

"Dean, that's a little rude, don't you think?" said Sam.

"No. I think it's more than a little necessary. Really? Crowley?"

"Dean, I really think-"

"Sam, shut up. Really Bobby?"

"Dean, maybe you should try to be a bit more understanding and open minded." said Bobby, trying not to get angry or be rude. But it was getting more and more difficult.

"Gay, fine. But Crowley? Really?"

"You're sayin that a lot and I don't get your point."

"Bobby, he is literally the king of Hell. Hell. And you don't see my problem with that?"

"Well, I don't see a problem with your angel..."

"Don't pull that crap. You really think I'm dating Cas? Yeah, anything to make you feel less weird." Dean took the bags- all of them- into the kitchen and started to take things out.

"Let's not forget, Sam dated a demon."

"Really Bobby?"

"I'm just sayin..."

"Yeah well don't." Dean was getting more and more worked up. "Come on Sam. Let's go."

"Where?"

"The haunting." Dean picked up the keys to the Impala and walked straight out of the door.

"Look, Bobby, I-"

"Forget it. It's fine, I get it. King of Hell and all. But Dean isn't exactly flaw-free."

"I'm sorry." said Sam. He looked at Bobby and followed Dean outside.

"Damn you, Crowley." Muttered Bobby.

"Damn me? Damn we where? Hell?"

"Crowley?" Bobby was confused.

"You called, I came."

"I said damn you."

"Yeah well, I must have misheard. So, how did the boys take the news? Not well, I'd imagine."

"Dean was... unsupportive to say the least. Sam seemed fine, I guess."

"Well, Dean can't say much, what with that trench coated angel he's in love with."

Sam and Dean we're driving in silence. Point Marc was still hours away, and neither of them had said a thing. The radio wasn't even playing. Sam reached out to turn it on, but Dean pushed his hand away. His eyes remained focussed on the road.

"Dean-"

"Can it."

"Listen, I get that it's weird. But just... try, you know?"

"Dammit Sammy. No. He's the king of Hell. It's not okay."

"Why?" Dean almost swerved and crashed the car. Crowley was sat in the back seat, leant forward.

"Dammit!"

"I've heard you're not too happy. A little birdie told me that you're mad at Bobby."

"Yeah let me guess, Bobby?"

"Bingo. And he's quite sad that you're mad at him. I reckon you should apologise."

"For what?"

"Hmm, let's think. Disrespecting him in his own house, not being supportive, can the list get longer?"

"Look, Dean, maybe you should just apologise. You know? Be supportive. Be civil at least."

"No! I haven't got a problem with the gay part- it's Crowley! He's the king of Hell for God's sake!"

"In all honesty, I don't think God gives a damn." Crowley interjected.

"Shut up." said Dean coldly.

"Oh, not very nice."

"Dean, all I'm saying is this is Bobby. He isn't stupid. And he's like a dad to us. Maybe we should just trust him and be nice."

"No."

"Sam, you're my favourite." said Crowley, before disappearing as fast as he appeared.

"Thank God he's gone." said Dean.

"Just think about it, okay?" said Sam. He was pulling the puppy eyes on Dean.

"Fine. I'll think about it. As much as I don't ever want to think about that again."

"Thankyou." Dean turned on the radio and they drove the rest of the way talking at least a little more than they were before.

They arrived in Point Marc late the next night, and pulled into the closest motel- Pink Lotus. Dean grimaced when he saw the blinding pink neon sign, and admittedly so did Sam. When they got into their room, Sam immediately took out his laptop and started searching for newspaper articles.

"Dude." said Dean. "There is literally a paper right here."

"Oh." He closed the laptop and took the newspaper. The front page said 'Trump: What The Wall Means For Small-Town America'. Sam took one look and frowned at it. He turned the pages until he found the article, 'Couple stabbed to death with cutlery in locked home'.

"Why is this not on the front page?" asked Dean. Sam chose not to answer.

"Check this- all the doors and windows were locked and the police were only called when an upstairs window got smashed. Neighbours say they heard a woman screaming, but nothing about a man."

"Definitely weird. I'm gonna sleep on it."

"What?"

"I'm gonna sleep on it." Dean walked into the bedroom, while Sam stayed up researching any other possible linked deaths.

Dean woke up the next morning to croissants from the supermarket.

"Jam?"

"Dude."

"Okay." Dean looked sad. He really wanted jam.

"Get this- two weeks ago the same thing happened two miles away. A couple were killed in a locked home and only the woman's body was found."

"Cutlery?" asked Dean through a mouthful of croissant.

"Er, no. Garden rakes. Apparently they were big on gardening."

"So big that they had rakes in their kitchen?"

"Yeah, weird. Let's go check it out."

"Hi, Mrs Van Dyne? FBI." Dean and Sam showed the woman their badges.

"Come in." She said. They went inside the house and sat down opposite her.

"Mrs Van Dyne, can you tell us what you heard from your neighbour's house?"

"Erm, well, at first I heard them arguing, then a window smashed and I called 911, and then I heard Felicity screaming."

"And you didn't hear anything from her husband?" asked Sam.

"No, nothing."

"Okay, Thankyou Mrs Van Dyne."

"Oh, it's no problem."

Sam and Dean left the house.

"So, nothing from the husband and a missing body both times. There's definitely something going on."

"You think?"

"Boys!" Sam and Dean turned around. Mrs Van Dyne was hobbling down her driveway.

"I forgot to mention- the Jones' house had CCTV, inside and out. Steven was always very protective."

"Brilliant, Thankyou so much." said Dean. After she'd hobbled her way back into the house, he turned to Sam.

"Let's take a look at that footage."

Twenty minutes later, they were sat in Mr and Mrs Jones' dining room, watching the CCTV on their computer.

"There. They go into the kitchen at the same time and then the screen goes fuzzy." said Dean.

"Okay, that was at quarter to eleven pm. The police were called right after that/ at 10:49pm."

"So you think this is it?"

"100%." They both sat staring at the screen, only catching glimpses of what was going on. The footage defuzzed at 10:51pm.

"Go back." said Dean. "I think I saw something. There." He pointed to the screen where they saw a man holding a rake, staring into the camera.

"That'll be him." said Sam. He was a black and white image, with a stern face and heavy features. He was broad shouldered, but wrinkles on his face indicated that he was not young.

Dean took a picture.

"Research."

The pair headed into the local library and emerged three hours later with a single folder. Once back in their hotel room, Sam began to search through it.

"Here: Samuel Walters, born in 1836, died in 1887. He stabbed his wife to death after he caught her cheating on him."

"So what, you think this dude's going round hacking at wives that cheat?"

"I guess. But what does he do with the men?"

"No idea." Dean said, opening two bottles of beer and handing one to Sam. "Where'd he live?"

"Er, 2 Drew Road. About three miles west."

"But dont ghosts usually haunt like, one house?"

"Yeah, but they can be tethered to certain objects, like crystal balls. Maybe this guy's tethered to something they all have."

"Maybe."

Half an hour later they'd arrived at 2 Drew Road. The house itself would once have been impressive and grand, but now was nothing more than a dilapidated shell of a building, collecting dust, dirt and rats.

"Of course the wife murderer lives in an old wreck." said Dean, before turning on his torch and heading in after Sam.

The house was silent. Completely still, but somehow was terrifying. Somehow it was the silence that was the scariest part. But it didn't last long. They heard a gunshot from upstairs, followed by "Rock salt, dickweed!" Sam and Dean exchanged bewildered looks. A man came running downstairs, yelling "Whoo!" This only made the boys even more confused. Surprisingly the man didn't look surprised to see Sam and Dean.

"Kitchen. Now." said Dean, pointing his shotgun at the man.

"Whoa, okay then!" Said the stranger, almost mocking them, with his arms way up on the air. Dean kept a stern face, and pushed him into the dark, dusty 'kitchen' with the barrel of his shotgun.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? How did you know how to kill the ghost?" Demanded Dean. The man raised his arms-and eyebrows- higher.

"Answer him." said Sam, almost snarling.

"Alright, alright!" The man's eyebrows were so high up that they almost weren't on his head at all.

"My name is Jackson Stevens. I'm a hunter from Boulder City, Nevada. I was working the job."

"We were working the job." said Sam.

"Yeah well, I'm not fuckin psychic."

"Watch your tone." Snarled Dean.

"Woah, okay." said the man, again in mock surprise.

"Sam," said Dean, gesturing for him to follow.

"Who does this lunatic think he is?" asked Dean.

"Dean, maybe he is just a hunter. Y'know? Maybe he just worked the job faster than we did."

"Not possible. We would have known. Where's he got his information then if not the same witnesses as us?"

"Too right it's not possible." said Jackson. "Sam, you're far too easily trusting. Dean, I knew you'd figure it out, although I'd banked on faster. Not as great as the angel made you seem eh?"

"What?" Dean said it violently and almost spat.

"Dean. Come on. From all that time I spent watching your angel friend, I'd imagined you better than this."

"Who are you?" asked Sam.

"Really? You don't recognise me? Ah, of course. This ridiculously lanky meat suit. Zachariah, boys."

"Zachariah?!" Spewed Dean.

"That's impossible. You're dead. Dean stabbed you."

"Yes, and to be honest I'm not too happy about that. So, punishment-wise, how about a quick detour to... somewhere nobody will ever find you?"

"Sorry?" said Sam.

"What do you think you-"

"That's better." said Zachariah. Sam and Dean were gone. Zachariah took one last look around and vanished.

"They aren't picking up." said Bobby, clearly concerned.

"They'll be fine." said Crowley.

"They always pick up, something's wrong."

"You worry about them too much. They're adults for God's sake." Crowley reached out for the fridge, only getting a sideways look from Bobby.

"Sam and Dean are missing." Bobby and Crowley almost jumped out of their skin.

"Cas?"

"Yes. Hello. Sam and Dean are missing."

"Where are they?" asked Bobby.

"If I knew then they wouldn't be missing."

"Right.." said Bobby. Crowley stifled a laugh.

"We have to find them." said Cas.

"Well really genius?" Said Bobby.

"It was Zachariah." said Crowley. Cas didn't look impressed that Crowley was there. Probably just to make him more uncomfortable, he kissed Bobby's cheek.

"Did you learn that from the pizza man?" Bobby and Crowley exchanged bewildered looks.

"What?" they both said at the same time.