A Monday Afternoon

The alarm on Crowley's computer beeped and he blinked in surprise. He closed the construction document that he had been reviewing and opened the Calendar App. The yellow triangle alert icon was flashing. He clicked it, already dreading what he would read there.

"4:00 – Meeting with Detective Novak."

He groaned.

It wasn't as if he didn't like his brother-in-law...well...maybe that was exaggerating it...

A bit.

There was something about Castiel Novak that just seemed...off to Fergus Crowley. He was such a stiff, really. He shook his head and sighed. He made his sister Meg happy, he supposed. That was all that mattered. He was such her type. Total Boy-Scout.

He grabbed his phone and stood up, reaching for his briefcase.

The room swum before his eyes. His temples pounded. He felt...fingers...stroking along his spine...

He gasped and sat down heavily, immediately rubbing at his temples in an attempt to alleviate the sudden migraine that attacked him.

These were getting more frequent. More intense.

He opened up his desk drawer and pulled out the pill bottle, gave it a shake, flipped the cap open and tipped out two tablets into his shaking palm. He popped them into his mouth and swallowed them dry, grimacing.

He had been suffering these episodes for months now, and despite every test known to medical science, they had found no abnormalities in Crowley's head.

He chuckled to himself. Now thatwas front page news...no abnormalities, he thought sarcastically.

He leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, trying to relax.

Those fingers...and a sound...like...was it laughter?

He took another deep breath and stood up. He was going to be late.

He left his office and turned off the light.

"Lilith?"

His secretary looked up from her desk.

"Yes, Gus?"

"I'm meeting my sister's husband for an early dinner. Make sure Daisy is walked, ok?"

Lilith frowned.

"What?"

She sighed. "Gus...boss...it's nothing personal, but that dog..."

"What about her?"

"Well, she's not a dog."

Crowley frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

"She's a dog-a-saurus."

He grinned. "Now, now let's not shame her because of her size. Besides, she's as gentle as a lamb."

"Probably because she ate a herd of them..." Lilith muttered under her breath.

"Pardon?"

Lilith smiled broadly. "Nothing sir. I'll handle it. Have a nice dinner."

Crowley smiled and walked to the elevator and took it down to the lobby of his office building. His name in large, polished chrome letters greeted him as he stepped out. The security guards nodded to him. He waved back as he went to the street, where his limo was already waiting.

"Where to, sir?"

"The Abbey," Crowley grunted, sliding into his seat. "Meeting Castiel there in about a half an hour."

His driver, Adam, snorted. "That sounds like fun, sir"

"No one asked you," Crowley grunted, then raised the divider up and turned on the radio. The local Atlanta news was on. Something or another about freak weather in the Atlantic near Florida...

Crowley tuned it out, though, feeling the medicine begin to kick in.

What was going on with him? He had never really been prone to sickness in his entire life.

Something was off. Not knowing what that something was was starting to drive him crazy.

He was still considering this when he dozed off.

He was standing in a field...a field that wasn't a field. It was...night? He looked up. The stars...where were all the stars? A golden line was faintly visible in the heavens...being drawn taught, as if held in the sky by enormous hands...

Someone...no...not someone, something was standing behind him...

He felt a chill up and down his spine. Pure horror rushed through him.

He had to turn around...but...

….he didn't want to turn around.

He began to turn anyway...automatically...helplessly...against his will...he didn't want...to...see...

It reached for him, screaming...a face made up of a thousand nightmares...he tried to scream...

Crowley woke with a start, his brow covered in sweat, breathing rapidly.

"Sir? Sir, we're here."

Crowley grunted. "Thanks Adam. Go ahead and park, but I won't be long..."

"You OK, sir?"

Crowley smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even though he was positive that he looked far from the part. "Right as rain. Just a nightmare is all."

"Ok sir, if you say so," Adam replied, obviously unconvinced. Crowley smiled back in thanks and got out of the car.

The Abbey was a luxury restaurant built inside of an old Presbyterian church that hadn't been burned down during the Civil War. It was a bit pricey, but Crowley preferred it to more intimate settings if he had to meet with his brother-in-law. The crowd would provide adequate distractions from Detective Novak's...eccentricities. At least he hoped so.

The usher brought him to his table and Castiel looked up from his menu.

"The prices here are obscene."

Crowley smiled and sat down. "Well, good thing that you don't get the check, then."

"Don't be ridiculous," Castiel met his eyes. "We split the check. I insist."

Crowley raised his eyebrows. "And I insist that I cover it. Better that than having to face my sister afterwards."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Crowley sighed. Already turning sour. What a stiff...

"Nothing, Castiel. I am passing along no disparaging remarks upon my dearest sister, your wife. I am merely being practical. No splitting this bill. In fact, this entire gross display of wealth is specifically intended to make you uncomfortable." He squinted at Castiel and nodded in satisfaction. "Goal achieved."

Castiel watched him for awhile then grunted, turning back to his menu. "Maybe I'll just get a salad..."

Crowley grimaced behind his menu. "Sacrilege. Which is kinda funny, actually, if you consider the setting here..."

The waitress came by a few minutes later, jotting down their orders dutifully on her notepad. To his credit, Castiel didn't order a salad, instead ordering the Abbey's famous Steak Tar-Tar. Crowley went with the Top-Sirloin.

"How would you like that cooked, Sir?" the waitress asked.

"Bloody as hell, if you please," he answered.

The waitress smirked "I figured as much," she muttered.

Crowley frowned, squinting at her. "Have we met?"

She smiled back at him. "Oh, nothing as simple as that. I just had you figured as a 'rare' man is all." She flashed him a brilliantly white smile, her eyes twinkling behind her black horn-rimmed glasses and turned away.

"So...Meg says 'Hi'," Castiel muttered.

"Mm-hmm," Crowley answered, leaning back in his chair and tenting his fingers. "How are things?"

"Fine. Just fine."

Crowley's brow wrinkled.

"Castiel?"

"Hm?"

"You're the one that asked for this meeting."

"Oh...yeah...right..." Castiel answered, looking embarrassed. He reached down to his side and opened up his briefcase, pulling a manila envelope out. He placed it on the table, moving the fine linens out of the way.

"Is that...work?" Crowley asked, his mouth curling in distaste.

"Afraid so," Castiel answered, thumbing though a few of the top sheets.

"Castiel...why on earth would you want to meet with me about a case?" He paused, considering. "My company isn't under investigation, is it?"

"No, of course not," Castiel replied dryly, then raised an eyebrow. "Should it be?"

"Castiel, forgive me, but was that...a joke?"

Castiel smiled and shook his head. "It was trying to be."

Crowley smiled despite himself. "Well, sorry to say, but it wasn't funny. But keep working at it. You're heading in the right direction. Now, what is it that you have there?"

"Cultists," Castiel murmured, pulling a sheet out and putting it down on the table. "They're getting really organized."

Crowley frowned, picking up the paper. "Cultists? I've been hearing something about that in the news. Wack jobs...what was it again? Trying to summon demons from another dimension? But I don't understand what that has to do with..." His smile faded as he read the page that Castiel had given him. He turned it back towards him, pointing at it. "These are my development properties, Castiel."

"Yes. Yes they are."

"I thought you just said that my company wasn't under investigation, that that was ajoke..."

Castiel smiled humorously. "And I thought that you said that that joke wasn't very funny."

"And getting less and less humorous by the minute..." Crowley grunted. "What have my development properties got to do with cultists, Castiel?"

"They're using them. Holding their rituals there. Sometimes holding up there for a few nights."

"What?!" Crowley answered in shock, his face clenched up in surprise. "I haven't heard any of this..."

Castiel waved his hand in the air. "No, we've been keeping that confidential," he paused, frowning. "Until now."

"Oh. Wonderful," Crowley grunted. "So, enlighten me whilst I consider whether or not I should sue the APD for withholding this information from me. What changed?"

Castiel frowned. "I don't think that you have a legal case to..."

"Castiel..." Crowley interrupted, causing the detective to look up. "What changed?"

"There's been a homicide."

Crowley felt the blood drain out of his face. "That is bad. At...one of my properties, I'm guessing?"

Castiel nodded and Crowley began to feel ill. The bad press alone...

"Why come to me? Are you going public today?"

Castiel nodded again. "We have to. I thought it might be helpful...not just to warn you, but..."

"But?"

Castiel folded his hands on the table. "All of the holdouts and rituals have occurred on one of your properties, Crowley. Without exception."

Crowley's eyes widened. "You don't think that I had something to do with..."

Castiel held up a hand as their food arrived. "Gus, contrary to popular belief, there is an enormous difference between a 'person of interest' and a 'suspect'..."

"I'm a person of interest?" Crowley shot back, his voice loud enough to get a couple of heads to turn in their direction. He paled and leaned forward confidentially. "Castiel, you cannot be serious," he hissed.

Castiel tilted his head. "Look, Gus, I just need to figure out why these cultists are so interested in your properties." He frowned. "Even you have to admit that it's a pretty strange coincidence."

Crowley frowned, considering. "You have a point..." he sighed and shook his head. "I just don't know how I can help...there is literally nothing I know about cults or strange ritualists..."

Castiel frowned and leaned forward. "That's not...entirely true though, is it?"

Crowley arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean...?"

"Meg told me..."

"Told you what, Castiel...?"

"That your mother, Rowena..."

"Oh please!" Crowley exclaimed, this time definitely shouting loud enough to garner too much attention. "She was into New-Age mysticism and such back in Scotland. Fancied herself a witch, or a Wicca, whatever you call them these days...but seriously? What could that possibly have to do with what's going on here in Atlanta? And murder, Castiel? The worst she'd ever done is burn down half the living room with incense..."

Castiel held up a hand. "OK, ok, I get it, Gus. But let me ask you...is it...just a possibility is all...that one of her ex-acquaintances or practitioners is involved in this? The fact that they seem to be targeting your properties..."

Crowley frowned. "I mean...sure...I guess. I can get you a list of names..."

Castiel sighed in relief and leaned back in his chair, looking at his meal. "That's all I'm asking for. Thanks, Gus."

"Or...maybe your mother kept journals...books?" the waitress said, leaning over towards Crowley from behind him.

"What...?!" Crowley jolted, startled, looking the waitress up and down. "I beg your pardon? Were you listening in on our conversation? This is private!" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I'd like to speak to the manager. Now."

She ignored him and took the seat to the side of the table, leaning forward. "No time. Now, did your mother keep any old books around? Weird looking ones?"

"Um...ma'am? I'm Detective Novak, Atlanta PD," Castiel said. "This is an ongoing investigation...it really isn't appropriate for civilians to..."

She waved him off.

"Books, Crowley! Think! Did she keep any weird books around?"

Crowley blinked, genuinely confused. "Who are you...? I mean...no...I don't remember any..."

"Oh, God," the waitress moaned, looking down at her order pad and shaking her head. "Don't tell me that you have absolutely no idea what I'm even talking about...did you pay no attention at all to what your mother was doing in Scotland?"

Castiel's eyes widened. "Are you...are you one of the cultists?" He stood up and fumbled in his coat for a pair of handcuffs.

The waitress shot him a withering look. "No, of course I'm not a cultist...I'm trying to stop them..."

"Stop them...stop them how?"

"They're trying to bring something through..."

Castiel snorted. "That's a fantasy, lady. Now look, if there's something actually useful that you can tell me..."

She stood up and her head shot towards the entrance of the restaurant. She turned very pale.

"Oh nonononono...one of them is here..." she whispered. She fixed Crowley with a fierce gaze and grabbed his jacket. He shouted in protest but she gave him a stern shake.

"Look, there's no time, Crowley, but you have to remember! Think! Your mother's books...I'll see you again. Soon." She looked back to the door and he followed her gaze.

He felt the hairs on his arms all stand up at once.

The familiar feeling of pure dread filled him as he looked...

The door spun towards him...the dark figure standing in it fixed it's eyes...it's hate-filled, cruel, cold malicious eyes on him...reaching...reaching...

Crowley felt the room spin, saw the floor rush up to meet him...and saw no more...

"Give him some space..." he heard Castiel's voice somewhere over him. There were hands around him...loosening his tie...

"M'ok," he managed to mumble, brushing lamely away at the people trying to help him. "Just another migraine is all..."

"Easy now, easy Gus, " he heard Castiel again. He saw him through blurred vision and tried to get up off of his back.

"You want to sit up?" Castiel asked, "Ok, but easy now...not sure we should even try that..." he looked over his shoulder. "Is the ambulance on the way?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's coming," Crowley heard a voice...the waitress? He squinted up. It was her...

"Whahappened...?" he mumbled, managing to reach a sitting position.

"You fell over..." Castiel answered. "...right out of your chair. Do you want some water or something?"

Crowley shook his head. "There was...something at the door..."

Castiel frowned. "The door. What do you mean? We just got our food and you fell over..."

Crowley frowned. "You mean after the waitress sat down...?"

Castiel looked confused. "Waitress sat down...? Gus...I'm not sure what you're talking about..."

Crowley looked around and found the waitress. He pointed. "Her. She was asking about...my mother's books..."

The waitress looked puzzled as well. "Um...sir, I just brought you your food...I didn't say anything to you..."

Crowley felt the room spin a little again, raised his hands to his head and groaned. He shut his eyes...

….a golden thread against pitch black night...pulled...pulled tightly...

He opened his eyes again to see Castiel was watching him, concerned.

"OK, Gus, let's just let the paramedics take a look at you and get you to a hospital, ok? We'll try to sort out what happened later. Deal?"

It was all Crowley could manage to nod in agreement. His head pounded.

Something was so wrong...

Somewhere in the Void of nothingness...a Being...a Presence...something that was...but wasn't...listened...

It heard the summons once again, and, in that blind Void, turned back to it. Focused in on it. Let it guide...

And it laughed...in hunger,,,,it laughed...

Soon...so very soon...it would feed...