A/N: Updating will hopefully be on Fridays every week from now on as well as updates on AO3 on friday. Enjoy!
"Now, how 'bout those burns? Anythin' we can do for 'em?" Bobby rocked back on his heels to put some space between himself and Crowley. There was something about being so close to the Crossroads demon that set him on edge in an unusual way. He realized too late he could've stood up and walked away but that would only look suspicious now.
"Not...that I know of." Crowley shook his head, musing it over for a moment. He reached up to tug his dress shirt into a semi-respectable position. His eyes followed Bobby as he slipped into the kitchen. He returned with a bottle of whisky, which he passed to Crowley.
"Here. May not do much but at least it might help to take your mind off it a little."
Crowley managed a rueful grin and took a swig from the bottle, nursing it as he spoke. "Can't say this was what I was expecting Singer."
Bobby attempted to ignore the disbelieving note in his voice. He couldn't believe what he was doing either. He distracted himself by searching for something with a few clean pages and a pencil. "If you didn't, why'dja come here?"
"Well, I suppose I was expecting to get thrown to the curb. It was a last resort after all, getting your help, but it was preferable to lying down and dying."
A clink indicated Crowley had set the bottle down and Bobby turned, journal in hand. "Well, 'm not kicking you out so you better believe it. When'd they burn the first bone?"
Crowley expression shifted to that of a little kid who'd gotten caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Bobby's curiosity peaked. "About two hours ago. That was actually the third one. It's been approximately a bone an hour so far."
Bobby paused in his writing, almost snapping the pencil in half between calloused fingers. He could feel his features contorting in an annoyance and a not-so small amount of anger. "You idjit! You waited two hours to come to me about this?!"
Crowley swallowed hard, refusing to meet his eye. Bobby breathed out, using the tricks he had to stay calm when the Winchesters pulled a stunt. Remembering how painful the burns looked made him want to shake some sense into Crowley. "I had to make sure that was what was actually happening. I couldn't raise suspicion by leaving the moment it happened, I needed an excuse. And despite what you seem to think, this also drains my powers. I had to build up the energy to get here, something I haven't had to do in a long time." There was a momentary flicker of sass over his face at Bobby's inference that he was an idiot but it left soon after. Crowley was aware of his position, and that sassing Bobby wasn't a good idea at the moment. If he did he'd end up on the street, on his own.
Bobby sighed, suppressing the urge to repeatedly hit his head against the wall. Instead he resigned himself to as jotting down a few figures. "You're almost as bad as the boys and I mean that. So, there's what, just over 200 bones in the human body? That gives us around that many hours if we're lucky. Nine days tops, closer to seven or eight, I doubt they'll continue at this rate. They won't give you that much time. 'sides, Hell would know something was up by then."
"I agree. That sort of luck doesn't happen often, not with the target I've got on my back." Crowley moved gingerly to lean forward, elbows to knees and chin in his hands as he mused aloud. "So, there's the timeline. Now, I know the bones were there two days ago."
"Can we narrow that down any further?" Bobby rolled the pencil between his fingers, unable to stop himself from fidgeting.
"Most likely time? Yesterday, about noon. I was in the midst of a rather...complicated deal and it was the longest I've been absent from Hell in the past two days. Opportune timing." Crowley paused to think, reaching out to rest one hand in the air. Bobby assumed he was patting the hellhound. "The room was demon-proof, which raises more than a few red flags. That's why I had to check first, the possibility was...well, it was impossible, or so I thought."
"But if it was demon-proof, how'd it happen? Dry bones don't just get up and walk away." Bobby blinked, shaking his head a bit in confusion. "Who knew they were even there?"
"Well, they do if you're a prophet in the desert." Crowley smirked but it fell away soon after. "Only my inner circle knew about, which narrows down the suspect list a bit. Not that they even know where the bones were. But they're all demons. And even if it is to be someone who knows me well, someone I give a little more slack to, it doesn't mean the did it. They could've sold the information or hired someone to do the job for them. Finding the bones and the culprit first would be best, finding the mole if that's the case can wait."
"But the room was demon proof?"
Crowley looked faintly annoyed at the accusation. "Of course it was. I do know my witchcraft Robert. Those spells and runes would only let one demon in, me. Any others would be fried on the spot. Even a knight of hell would at least get trapped in the room. Besides, the runes should've alerted me if a demon other than myself stepped into the room."
"So what does that leave us, what could've gotten in and out of Hell, let alone that room?" Bobby tapped his pencil against the journal, waiting for Crowley to mull it over and speak.
"Souls perhaps. But to even get to my sanctuary in Hell before corruption? Unlikely. All souls go through general registration and such anyways. I try to keep things organized down there. And I doubt this is that big of a conspiracy or I'd be dead by now. An angel could enter Hell, but I would know about it and-" He sat straight up, eyes widening in recognition. "Bollocks."
Bobby looked up from his regretfully short list, brows furrowing together in confusion. "What?"
"I didn't make it reaper proof. They bring souls down to Hell all the time. Come an' go as they please and some demons prefer to get rogue reapers to do their dirty work. Anyone one of 'em could have…" Crowley trailed off, reaching up to rub at his chest with gentle hands as he spoke. Growley whined at his owners obvious distress.
"So our most likely suspect is a rogue reaper." Bobby let out a frustrated sigh and scratched the information into the journal. "Great. How exactly do we catch a reaper? Or even find someone who would know which reaper it was? An' why wasn't the room reaper-proof?"
"Reapers are technically angels, not demons or souls. I didn't...I didn't think about angel proofing. Most reapers mind their own business, they don't care about the politics of heaven or hell. And if any other angel got in, every demon in Hell would know about it. They'd know about it in the Cage." Crowley looked miserable and Bobby winced, slipping into a more sympathetic tone and expression. He felt bad for the demon, which he knew was neither normal, nor a good thing for a hunter. "And as for the need to find a specific reaper, we'd need to get the information out of a few others. ...I could almost kill you and trap one when it comes for your soul?"
Bobby didn't say anything, but shot him a bitchface that would've rivaled the masters. The masters being Sam Winchester, and Crowley chuckled in response.
"I'll take that as a no?" Crowley zoned out, thoughtful, mind elsewhere than Bobby's living room. "I have a few reapers under my employment. Even if they don't know who it was, they can likely point me to someone who'll know a little more."
"And then what? You're gonna go hunt 'em down? That could take days, days we don't have." Bobby shook his head and paused to take a deep breath. "We need a plan for after that. Even if you could catch the reaper, what happens if another bone gets burnt in the middle of somethin'? You're incapacitated as it is, we can't have that happen. No, hasta be somethin' we can both do but I can do on my own if it comes down to that."
They were both quiet for a moment and Bobby racked his mental files for a solution. He finally mused the idea aloud when he found what he was looking for. "Astral Projection? Worked for the boys once. Nearest psychic I trust is a few states away but if you can perform it we can save that time."
Crowley's eyes narrowed in critical thought. Bobby decided he looked like a businessman or a tactician in that moment. "Possible, and I could perform it, but you wouldn't get far if you've never done it before. If there isn't the reaper we need, or even a reaper nearby, then we'd be trouble. Besides, you wouldn't have time to learn spirit abilities. I'm currently a little low on the power needed to teach you them. Any reaper would be able to overpower you. And I'd rather not call Moose and Squirrel in."
Bobby hummed. "Agreed, last resort then. How about your dog?"
"They'd rip Growley and any other hound I sent to shreds. Angels remember? Have you ever seen Feathers take out a hound? Not exactly a fair fight."
Bobby closed his eyes for a moment, frustrated, and then they flew open, a plan forming in his mind. "Got an idea. 's risky but it might be our best shot at getting the information we need."
"Go ahead." Crowley waved him on and Bobby began. He started out hesitant at and then forged onward so Crowley couldn't interrupt him.
"It's possible to bind a reaper to you. If your...contacts can't give us a name, we get a random reaper an' do some questioning. See if we can an' just go on like that. I'll look to see if there's a spell that'll let me bind a specific reaper in case you can get a name. Once bound, they can't refuse orders, meaning you or I can question it and get the truth."
Crowley looked at him incredulously and Bobby waited for his response. He was more than a little surprised when Crowley exploded on him. "Are you insane?!" He looked pissed and Bobby winced. "And what happens when you break the bond? Or are you going to keep a reaper bound to you till the day you day?"
"Could be useful…" Bobby stopped with a chuckle and Crowley's withering glare. "If they're angels, they follow the same rules, we just need a banishing sigil ready. The moment I unbind it, we banish it, just in case."
"And what then? It'll find you and then it'll kill you. I can't stop that right now."
"Reapers don't seem to pay much attention to humans. Like you said, they ain't even interested in heaven or hell. We do this somewhere else an' hope you got the mojo to zap us back when it's finished." Bobby shrugged, searching for anything else they may have overlooked.
Crowley was quiet for a long moment. "Foolhardy, but better than any of our other plans."
"And our only viable one." Bobby pushed off his desk, searching for all the books he had on voodoo and black magic. "Should have all the information we need 'round here somewhere. 'll go out to get any supplies I don' have while you go through your contacts, sound good?"
He muttered to himself as he searched. When he turned around again with an armful of books, Crowley was holding a pair of glasses in his hands. He offered them to Bobby and Bobby set the books down on his desk with a huff. "...I'm old, not blind, idjit."
Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically. "They're so you can see the reapers, and by affect Growley. For goodness sake Robert, touchy."
Bobby took them cautiously and slipped them on. His eye slid to the dog and he whipped them off, almost throwing the glasses against a wall. "Nope. No way, no how. Absolutely not. Get that thing outta my house. 'm not starin' at...at THAT all day. Nope."
Crowley snorted softly and Bobby could've sworn he heard amusement in his voice. "Close your eyes."
With hesitant movements Bobby did and he felt Crowley take the glasses and settle them on his nose. "Hell is what your deepest fears and nightmares are. It latches onto your imagination. Imagine something other than what you saw and believe it. I imagine Hellhounds as big, black, furry dogs, pointed ears, four to six glowing eyes, two tails. Big paws, slobbery tongue, sharp teeth and muzzle. Whole bit. Got it?"
"Ya…"
"Now believe it." Bobby heard Crowley step away but kept his eyes closed. "Open your eyes."
Bobby did so one eye at a time and his jaw dropped, mouth working for words. "Oh...uh, ya. That's...that's much better."
Growley looked almost as smug as his owner and Crowley chuckled, smirking a little. He looked much more like his usual self than he had in his past hour. For some reason Bobby found that comforting. "Good. Shouldn't take me long to go through my associates. Mind if I borrow your basement?"
"Fine, sure." Bobby slipped behind his desk, resolving to go through his books. He heard Crowley heading downstairs and went back to work.
It took him a half hour to compile his shopping list. Looking at it he realized he was less than pleased to have to leave Crowley alone. For more and less obvious reasons. "Crowley!"
The King of Hell appeared at the bottom of the stairs. "Yes Robert?"
"You got 'bout ten minutes til the next one." Bobby double checked his watch and then continued. "You want me here or can I go get the supplies?"
"I can handle it." Crowley waved him off but it looked forced and Bobby's lips pursed in suspicion.
"'lright. Don' let anything...happen to the house while 'm gone."
"Of course darling." Crowley smirked up at him but it seemed forced before disappearing into the basement. Bobby snatched his keys off the desk and stomped out the door. He could be muttering about impossible demon kings as he headed for his truck.
