The night was dark. Although the large red waxing moon hung low in the autumn sky no light seemed to touch Andromeda Weston; nor the crossroads that lay before her. The cricket's song that had followed her on the long trek down the countryside grew silent as she neared her destination. In fact, every living creature of the night within 20 feet had seemed to take cover as if they already knew what was to come.

At the edge of the crossroads Romie stood with a tin box in her hands. Warily she eyed the moon, who's light was tilted so that the small sliver that shown looked like an eerie blood red grin. The girl forced a dry smile.

She'd always called these types of moons Cheshire after the cat in Alice in Wonderland's mad gleam. Ironic, she thought, considering what she was about to do was fucking mental. Then again, Romie reflected, her life hasn't exactly been the poster of mental health.

If you asked her a month ago if she believed in demons and the supernatural she would have directed you to the nearest psychiatric unit. It had been a crazy month however, and Romie was never one to argue with facts.

A whistle of a distant train pulled her back from her thoughts.

"Right," she muttered. Shifting her weight Romie dropped her back pack onto the dirt road with a heavy thump a plume of dust. She set the tin on the ground beside the back and dove into the pack. A moment later she pulled out a collapsible shovel she bought just for the occasion. Then, walking out into the middle of the crossroads she began to dig. She couldn't help but notice the silence again as she worked. The only sound to be heard here was the scrape of metal against years of dirt and gravel coupled with the labored breaths as she swung low, stabbing into the earth with determination. She tried to keep her focus on those sounds because frankly, the heavy silence made the hair on the back of her neck rise. It wasn't completely lost on her that this was beyond wrong. But it was quick work, taking only about ten minutes before the hole was deep enough for the box she had brought with her. Kneeling down, Romie popped the tin's lid with one hand while fishing a photograph out of her coat pocket with the other. She sniffed. The brisk night air and her digging had made her nose run. Taking a moment to collect herself, Romie studied the picture in her hands.

It was old. The edges were tattered and worn from being held to many times. Creases had made their way across the smiling faces captured within the print. Romie tried to smile back at them, but only managed a grimace. She remembered that day vividly. It was her Christmas vacation from when she was twelve. Her parents had taken her to a ski resort in Wisconsin and rented a beautiful cabin in the woods. It was the best Christmas in her life. The photo was snapped by her father. She and her mother were hugging in the snow after a spontaneous snowball fight that lasted an hour. Snowflakes adorned their caps like tiny little diamonds glistening in the setting sun. They were smiling as if it were heaven on earth. Completely oblivious that hell would soon come to claim them all.

Her thumb ghosted over the face of the older red haired woman.

"Mom," she breathed; a sound barely loud enough for even herself to hear. Romie's jaw clenched, steeling herself.

Mom would understand. She told herself and quickly ripped the image in two. Dropping her twelve year old self into the tin and tucking her mother's half in her breast pocket, she snapped the lid shut and buried the tin hastily. No point stopping now. It's too late for me to go back… She patted the loose dirt for an extra measure.

Now, we wait..

And she did…

She waited.

And waited.

And waited..

And then she waited some more…

After ten minutes Romie sat down. Then, after fifteen minutes she began throwing rocks into the ditch. After twenty, she began aiming at the road signs, mocking a crowd's roar when a rock pinged off the metal. After thirty she started stabbing the ground in frustration until the shovel's lock slipped and pinched her finger, drawing blood. With a loud undignified yelp of pain and a slew of curses she chucked the shovel back at her bag, which she had also thrown to the side of the road moments before. The shovel hit it's target and bounced off, landing on the ground with a metallic clang. Romie scowled at the traitorous tool, sucking the blood off her wound.

"This is stupid," she groaned. Laying herself down on the cool gravel and looking up at the stars she sighed, "So there are definitely demons but they definitely aren't making house calls. Thanks a lot, Wikipedia…"

"Oh now, I wouldn't say that darling," an amused voice chuckled from behind her. Gasping, Romie scrambled to her feet unceremoniously. Spinning on her heals, she scoured the crossroads for the sudden intruder. On the far side of the intersection behind the road signs stood an ancient oak tree. It's dead branches upturned towards the moon as if crying out to the sky. Under the shadow of that tree, Romie saw him. A dark haired man wearing a sharp suit and a smug smirk stepped out into the moonlight. At first she thought she was imagining it, but as he strode out onto the road there was no denying his eyes were shining blood red. She felt her blood run cold and the little hairs all over her body stood straight on end. He crept closer to her still smiling. She stepped back warily, on instinct. Her hand coming up to her pocket, fingers tracing the pocket knife she kept there. Even though the man was smiling, it didn't seem a friendly gesture. Her heart pounded in her ears.

"That little tooth pick won't do you a bit of good against me, love. Though I admire your fight, I thought you wanted me here," He purred, giving her a practiced look of hurt before returning to his original smirk. His voice was gravelly, but smooth like velvet. Romie could feel her ears perk up when he spoke, but clutched her knife all the same. The demon's smirk fell for a second obvious disapproval flickered in his eyes. He blinked and the red gleam faded into a hazel stare.

It was better Romie thought, than staring into red eyes. Although, she still felt like a squirming bug beneath a magnifying glass under his hard gaze she tried to force herself to relax.

"Yes.. I mean, yeah.. I want to make-"

"A deal, no?" The demon interjected waving his hand dismissively. The demon walked in a wide arc around Romie and came to a stop in front of where she had buried the tin minutes before. He looked up at the stars with genuine disinterest and let out a puff of air before turning sharply to face Romie. The action so quick Romie flinched. He continued with a sneer, "Well you certainly are taking your own sweet time with it. What do you want?"

Romie narrowed her eyes at the man/demon. Weren't they supposed to be charming? She'd read it was their job to coarse the weak into selling their souls by charming the pants off of them. Then again Romie wasn't weak, and she didn't need convincing. Frankly, his whole attitude made her want to smack him in the temple with her shovel and call it a night but she decided that that was a fucking stupid idea. Clenching her jaw tightly, Romie moved to speak.

Only to be cut off again.

"No, no wait. Let me guess; Money?" He snapped his fingers and a glass of liquor materialized out of thin air. He twirled the amber liquid absentmindedly.

"Fame?" He flashed a condescending smile.

"Love?"

Romie stood up straighter. She could feel her patience wearing thin from his relentless teasing. Through gritted teeth she answered, "A companion. That's all."

The demon rolled his eyes so hard Romie could almost hear it.

"So love then." he scowled. Romie watched his judgmental eyes scanning her up and down. Heat flushed her pale cheeks as she angrily balled and unballed her hands into fists. Normally, she'd have decked any other person by now. Never really one for containing her temper, she'd been in many back ally fights and bar brawls over the years she'd been on her own. Her jaw ached from the tension of holding her tongue. Those were just men, She reminded herself. Don't be fucking stupid, Romie.

"No." She all but shouted back.

Smooth.

The demon's brow hiked up his forehead. For the first time Romie could see a genuine smile tug at the corner of his lips. Relieved she hadn't pissed him off, Romie took a second and tried to compose herself. Letting out a sigh she asked, "Look, what's your name?"

The demon blinked, obviously taken aback by her question. Maybe it wasn't usual for people to ask their dealers name, but she really wasn't about to sell her soul to some unknown demon in a fancy suit and hoity-toity accent. She watched him narrow his eyes at her, as if he was asking if she was serious. This time it was Romie's turn to raise her brows at him. Folding her arms across her chest, she waited. The demon gave her an annoyed look and sighed, defeated.

"Crowley. The name is Crowley."

Romie grinned. It was a fitting name she decided, thinking back on the infamous Alistair Crowley she'd read about a while back. She looked him over intensely with her deep emerald eyes. She tried to piece together a reasonable explanation to get him to understand. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to relax.

"Well Crowley," She started carefully. If she was going to sell her soul, he'd better get her order right. After all, there were no take-backsies. "I'm not asking for you to find me someone to love. I don't need that. I-" she paused, studying her hands intently. Her shoulders sagged under sudden weight. What the hell.. she thought "I've seen way too much, way too much evil in people that I don't think I would be able to love any of them. Even if you were to make it happen. I just want someone to stand beside me. Just for a few years, that's all I need. Someone who would understand, who's like me and won't leave." Romie swallowed hard, finishing just above a whisper, "I just need a companion of some sort. I- I don't want to be alone anymore…"

The pair stood in silence for a moment. Romie hugged herself, suddenly feeling violently vulnerable under Crowley's hard gaze. Crickets chirped around them suddenly filling the air with their music. Romie had completely forgotten their absence until their return. After what seemed like hours, Crowley sighed.

"A soulmate it is, then." He snapped his fingers and sent his glass of Craig elsewhere. Romie perked up.

"Okay. So, where do I sign?" she questioned.

"Ah, well. About that." Crowley gave her a wolfish grin, "These deals aren't sealed in ink, kitten. They require a more… intimate signature."

Romie's face scrunched in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"We seal the deal with a kiss."
Romie blinked hard.

"You're kidding right?"

"Hey, if you don't want to deal…" Crowley turned away grinning.

"No, wait!" Romie blurted, taking a step forward. Crowley turned back to her, his brow quirked as if to say 'yes?' Romie chewed her bottom lip. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks flushing her pale cheeks red. Cursing her body's betrayal, she hoped Crowley couldn't see her blush. A pipe dream, she realized looking up to see his grin widening. The flush spread down her neck and across her chest.

"Okay," she whispered voice trembling.

"Excuse me?" he cupped his hand behind his ear as if he hadn't heard her.

"I'll do it," she groaned, annoyed with his relentless teasing.

Crowley flashed her a triumphant, charismatic smile and slowly closed the space between them. Every fiber of her being called for her to retreat, to call it off and run like hell. It was either stupidity or stubborn desperation that kept her glued to the spot, Romie couldn't really decide. Even though her body begged for her to run (or maybe it was deeper than that; her soul.) she did not budge. Instead she locked eyes with burning determination that seemed to amuse the approaching demon. He stopped, his body only inches from hers. Romie's breath trembled. This close to the man/demon she could feel the heat of his body against hers. The burning warmth was all to inviting in the chill autumn air. His breath was even hotter still and evelouped her face. Blinking up at him her body trembled involuntarily. Crowley's hand cupped her face and he leaned in.

This, she thought, is exactly how a deer feels in the second before the wolves sink their teeth into it's tender throat…

His hand snaked behind her head fingers coiling in her hair, pulling her in for the kill.

And that was it. Try as she might, Romie couldn't stop herself from closing the last millimeter between them, her body leaned against his, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer to her if at all possible. His tongue darted across her bottom lip asking for entrance, and Romie opened for him obediently. A small moan flitted past her lips and she could feel Crowley smirk.

Smug bastard, she thought. If this was going to be the kiss to seal her fate and sell her soul, she would enjoy it if she damn well pleased. Trying to one up him, she ran her own fingers through his hair. Clutching the short strands at the base of his neck, she pulled hard. Then, sliding her other hand slightly under his jacket and button down shirt, she scraped her nails across the flesh of his shoulder.

And it worked. Crowley growled deeply wrapping his none preoccupied arm around her waist and crushing her body against his. This time, it was Romie's turn to smirk, nipping his bottom lip and pulling teasingly,

She had only just let his lip escape her bite when Crowley pulled back completely and vanished into thin air. Romie fell forward without his body there to support her. She shivered at the cold after such a fervid kiss. Had he really just disappeared?

"Well then!" his voice chimed from behind her, Romie spun to face him again with an undignified yelp. Crowley chucked and clapped his hands together. " You'll have your soulmate in due time. And I will be seeing you again in ten years time, kitten."

Dumbfounded, Andromeda only nodded.

The demon paused a moment to flash her one last dashing smile, snapped his fingers and disappeared.

Crowley sighed heavily. Slumping against his desk, taking a deep swig of Craig.

He had told those bloody knuckle dragging morons to handle any and all small fish sent his way so he could get a moment's peace. After all, he was on the verge of setting his plans in motion. Lucifer had been released from his cage and in due time his, and all other demon's, head would be on the chopping block. Being the self respecting demon that he was, that idea didn't sit well with Crowley. His eyes fell to the top drawer of the desk where the Colt lay within. Not even the most trusted demon in his group knew of his plans because even the most trusted demon, when it came down to it, could only be trusted to spit on your corpse after narking you out to save it's own skin. Every demon in Hell had a crush on their Lord Lucifer like a demented fat middle school girl itching for her first taste of under the shirt, over the panties action. He couldn't count on any of them to keep their bloody mouths shut. But he could, and he knew for a fact, trust the Winchester Boys' burning desire to put the beast back in his cage. He knew they were coming for it soon thanks to his sweet Bella playing her part like clockwork for him. They would be on the move now, he decided, and some bloody tart with major abandonment issues was the least of his concern.

Little minx, though. He thought with a grin. His hand ghosting the spot on his lip she'd nipped. The flesh still tingled slightly under his fingertips. He almost regretted leaving so abruptly and not testing just how far the girl would have tried to one-up him. She probably would ha-

A small gasp jerked him from his train of thought. Crowley spun, ready to fight. Though when he saw the intruder, he faltered. Pale faced and bug-eyed the girl, Romie he recalled, stood flabbergasted on the opposite side of his study.

"What?!" he demanded, causing the girl to jump with sudden surprise.

"What?" she echoed shrilly.