"Damn it, Crowley. You got him into this mess," Sam mutters as he looks down at the array of items Dean had used, seething. He kneels, lights a match, and tosses it into the bowl in front of him. "You will get him out, or so help me god."
Three whole minutes of impatient teeth-grinding later, Sam is graced by Crowley's presence.
"You son of a bitch."
"Lovely seeing you, too. I'm assuming this is about Dean."
"He's dead because of you, Crowley! You're going to bring him back, and you're going to help us get rid of the Mark."
"Or what, am I next on your hit list? Like I have been for..." Crowley counts on his fingers. "Four seasons now?"
"Fix what you broke. Bring Dean back."
"Moose, even you know I can't bring someone back to life unless there's a deal."
"Then let's make a deal."
"Good god, don't tell me you're offering up your soul. I'm not stupid enough to let a Winchester's soul into Hell. Samson would envy you for the number you'd do on the place."
"No, not my soul. There's got to be something else I can do or give you, upfront. Dean can't get me out of the deal, you have to hold up your end."
Crowley sighs.
"As entertaining as it'd be hearing you describe the sexual favors you would willingly perform in the name of bringing your brother back-" The demon pauses to appreciate the expression on Sam's face. "-I think I ought to inform you that Dean is currently not so much dead as he is... different."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"That Mark of Cain works wonders."
Sam turns and runs to his brother's room.