The TV was turned to one of the self-help programmes when Crowley broke in and tied up Eliza. He had about half an hour to go before the ritual would take effect; and when the other tried to possess her at midnight, he would be ready.

He settled himself down to wait and idly turned up the volume. Anything to pass the time without having to deal with his own thoughts.

"So you're saying I need to confront him?" asked the tearful guest on the show. "But I don't know... "

"You don't need to contact him. Dealing with this is for your benefit. Why don't you write a letter - tell him everything - and then burn it? Getting it out of your system will help."

Crowley clicked off the TV; then shrugged, and for the benefit of his captive, put it on again. What the hell - let her enjoy that while she still could.

Get it out of your system?

He went to the writing desk in the corner and pulled a piece of paper towards him.

Hello, Boys,

This is a rather strange letter to be writing, and a rather strange position I'm in. Look at me; sitting next to a little old lady who has about 20 minutes of life left, writing about how I feel. Does something seem wrong to you with this picture? (Yes, I know, the little old lady is probably going to be your main objection, but can we look at the big picture here?)

Funny story. There I am, old biddy tied up next to me, and some silly bint on the TV starts waffling on about writing letters to people to tell them your point of view; to tell them how you feel. Don't send then, just write it all down, get it out of your system, get closure, then burn the letter. Seems a bit pointless to me, but there isn't exactly a plethora of options while I'm waiting.

I don't think you have any idea what you did to me. You almost succeeded, Sam. If meddling big brother hadn't meddled at the last minute, I'd be on my way with a shiny new soul by now. And would probably be dead; I can imagine that without any mojo I'd soon be a small streak of red in the dust. The only question would be which one of my loyal friends got to me first.

But, you didn't. Ritual failed. Gates still closed, and both of you are, incredibly, still breathing. And I'm still - well - me. King. And now that I'm no longer your pet basement demon, things are back to normal.

You'd like to think that, right?

You have no idea.

I don't know if you heard me at the end. I think you did, Sam, and you ignored me. You made me feel again, made me regret the choices I'd made. Really regret. Like, right down at the bottom of what I am regret. Then there was the promise; threat to begin with, unwanted fate of reversing those choices and being human again.

Just when I realised that I wanted that; when I had faced everything I have achieved and realised that it was nothing; that I wanted what you were offering; I wanted my second chance, and you were going to give it to me... just when I had accepted that nothing is without pain, and the prize of being ME again was worth the suffering, and was ready to embrace it...

You left me.

And then came back for me and chained me up in your delightful demon dungeon. But that's nothing compared to what you did in that church. Imprisoned, kept alone in the dark for days at end, tortured... not my favourite pastimes, but nothing I can't handle.

Promising to give me myself back... and then snatching it away again. That was cruel.

I hated you more than I have ever hated anyone.

So I decided that if you were too much of a big girl's blouse to do it, I'd do it myself. And then thought about what I could do, and how things would be better.

And then I spoke to Abadon.

You boys have no idea how lucky you were to be dealing with me. Trust me, I'm the good guy in that game. If she stays in control... let's just say that the consequences won't just be bad for my subjects. And there is a part of me that is honourable. I always keep my agreements. I think I can stop her.

Also, I've forgiven you. And I owe you.

So, I've decided to stay in command. Taking back the throne. Reigning supreme.

It's the biggest favour I've ever done for you boys.

You're welcome.

Crowley.

It was almost midnight when he finished the letter. As the clock bagan to chime, the wind rushed around as the demon entered Eliza. Quickly, before it had a chance to take control fully, Crowley rammed a demon knife into her back. The body spasmed and the eyes glowed as they died.

Crowley picked up the letter, took it over to the sink and lit it. Then he turned on the water, watched the ashes swirl away and sighed.

"Nope. Didn't help."

He stepped over the body, adjusted his coat and strolled off to his next appointment.