Thank you so much to everyone who's already reviewed and let me know what you think - please keep it up!

Now

I've hardly finished cleaning the blood from my blade when I begin to feel the unpleasant pulling sensation in the pit of my stomach. With a sigh, I replace the blade in its sheath and close my eyes, willing myself to submit to the force.

When the feeling resides, I open my eyes to take in the darkened surroundings of the night; other than the distant twinkling lights of a farmhouse roughly a mile or so to the east, the rural area I've arrived in is empty; except, of course, for the rather attractive man standing at the crossroads just ahead.

He turns to watch another direction, placing his back to me. I take my time approaching him, coming to a stop only when he's within arms' reach. As if he senses me behind him, he turns back around, jumping back about a foot when he catches sight of me.

"Who…who are you?" he asks, rather stupidly for a man dressed in such a smart suit.

"Oh, me? I live just down the road," I say casually. "Nice night for a walk."

"Are you for real?" he says, studying my face.

"Of course not, you idiot," I say, rolling my eyes. "Unless you didn't call for assistance and are just out for a walk yourself."

"But…" he says, eyes sweeping down my body. "You look nothing like a demon."

"Oh," I say, raising a brow. "You have lots of experience with demons, then? You called, and I'm what you got. Unless, of course, you would rather deal with my uglier counterparts. You'd better hurry up if you want to make a deal, friend. I've got places to be."

"Okay, okay," he says, not looking completely sold. "I need you to…well…get rid of someone."

I place a hand on my hip in exasperation. "Are you going to give me a name, or am I just supposed to pick someone at random? Because you've wasted enough of my time that you'd be at the top of my list."

"No!" He takes a step backwards, as if a few more inches guarantee his safety. Little does he know I've never broken the rules and killed anyone who summoned me. "My mother."

"You would trade your soul for ten motherless years?" I repeat, establishing the terms of my deal. "I kill your mother, and in return I get your soul, due date a decade from now."

"Yes," he says, with little hesitation. "Only…she has to die tonight."

"Look," I say, uninterested. "You don't get to tell me how to do my job. She'll die when I say she dies."

"You don't understand," he says fervently. "She told me tonight at supper that she's going to her lawyer tomorrow to have me taken out of her will. You kill her before she goes, or I won't get what I deserve. I've spent my whole life doing everything that woman has told me I should. Play varsity football, become a doctor, marry Tricia Platt…never once have I done anything wrong, and now – just because all I have is daughters who can't carry on the family name, she's leaving the whole family fortune to my younger brother, who has two sons. You kill her before sunrise, and I will have ten long years to live my life the way I want to, not how thatbitch dictates I should."

"Okay, okay," I say, a little impressed with the venom spilling into his tone. "So, we have a deal? Your mother dead by sunrise, in exchange for your soul, retrieved ten years from today?"

"Yes," he says, "yes."

He reaches a hand out to me, as though to shake on the deal, and I shake my head, amused.

"Haven't you ever heard the phrase, sealed with a kiss?" I say, taking his hand and pulling him closer. "Where do you think it came from?"

I have to admit, despite being exceptionally dimwitted, and weak enough to let Mommy run his entire life, he's a decent kisser, and I let the moment drag out a little longer than is necessary. So many of my clients leave me wanting to scrub my lips clean that I don't miss an opportunity to take my pleasure where I can.

When I finally, reluctantly, pull away, he's out of breath and staring at me as though he's a deer caught in my headlights.

"Well," I say, shooing him with a wave of my hand. More susceptible to emotions and feelings than my counterparts, I put my training to good use and keep my expression neutral – bored, even. "What are you waiting for? Get lost, or I won't have enough time to do what needs to be done."

He stumbles back a few steps, as though he doesn't want to turn away. He trips into a gopher hole, though, at the edge of the road and seems to realize that there's no point in breaking his neck just yet and hurries the rest of the way to his car.

I wait until the vehicle's taillights are almost out of sight before I turn around to face my colleague.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were planning on sucking his soul right up his throat, ten years early," the demon says condescendingly, turning up his exceptionally well-formed nose. If it weren't for Finley's unpleasant disposition and outright hatred for me, I might consider letting the red-eyed demon teach me a little more about kissing. Might.

"It would save me a hell of a lot of trouble," I reply easily. "Though, really, with Crowley gone, who's to know if I collect a little ahead of schedule now and again?"

Finley raises a brow and I tilt my chin up, refusing to cave and admit I wouldn't do anything so daring. He knows me well enough to know how I feel about keeping my contracts honest.

"It would be pretty fucking stupid of you to relax your contract terms now," Finley finally says, "seeing as how Crowley returned this evening. He requested that you return immediately. He has a mission for you."

The way he says it leaves no doubt in my mind that he'd kill me here and now for the opportunity to be assigned a special task, if it weren't for what the others call Crowley's inexplicable favouritism that places me among the highest ranking demon officers.

"Tell him I'll be right there," I say, turning to face north, where I can feel my client's mother's life like a beacon, directing me to my destination. I smile, closing my eyes. "I've got business to tend to first."

Finley is nowhere in sight a couple hours later, as I saunter down the immaculately decorated hall to my father's chambers. I pass just one black-eyed demon, a newly-born female who avoids my gaze as she passes, heading in the opposite direction. I smile to myself at that.

A lot of the demons who weren't yet here when I arrived are intimidated by me, or rather, by my impressive connections. A lot of the younger demons don't know what the older ones do, since they didn't witness my days of weakness for themselves. They don't know that the weakest of our – their – kind are stronger than I could ever hope to be.

My thoughts preoccupy me with the reminder of my inferiority, and I almost barge right through the door to the chambers without realizing that those inside are speaking in hushed tones. I pause behind the door and press my ear against the heavy wooden barrier, straining to hear what's being said.

"…not a demon anymore," my father is saying, sounding less than impressed with the admission. Who isn't a demon? Can you even go from being a demon to being something other than dead? I've never heard of it myself. I concentrate on identifying the other speaker, as a male's voice responds to my father's words.

"He's not?" It's Finley, my father's second-in-command and a mentor of sorts to me. He's overseen my training since the first day I arrived, and as far as demons go, Finley's more trustworthy than most. Not that that says much, but still. He's also taught me more about kissing and other similar pleasures of the earth than anyone here. His voice, silky as ever even as he lowers it discreetly, makes my toes tingle from where I crouch listening.

"Let's just say it wasn't working out," Crowley replies, tone brusque.

"So you just let him go." There's a dangerous hard hint of iron in Finley's reply that my father wouldn't appreciate on a good day.

"And if I did? You think you know better than the King, how to run the kingdom? Not that it's any of your concern, but I have other plans for – Carys, I have killed others for being less nosey than you dare. And less tardy, too. Did I not send for you hours ago?"

I jump at the sudden acknowledgement of my presence, and wonder how long he's known I was there. Probably the whole time. I straighten up and calmly swing the door open to reveal myself, trying to look less concerned than I am about being caught eavesdropping on the King of Hell.

"You know how I hate to leave business unfinished," I tell him simply, nodding to Finley in greeting. He gives the slightest nod back, which is more than anyone else would.

"Yes, for all your faults, that's not one of them," he says coolly, turning to Finley. "Speaking of which, isn't there something you should be doing, or have I appointed you my new lapdog and forgotten?"

With the slightest bow and not a word in reply, Finley strides out, shutting the door firmly behind him. My father turns to me then, running his eyes from my head to toes in appraisal.

"I have a job for you," he says. "Something of the utmost importance. Something that can't be screwed up. And you are just the tool for the task."

"What do you need?" I say simply, ignoring my distaste at being called a tool.

"I need you to deliver someone to me," he says. "Several someones, actually."

"Just tell me who, and it's as good as done," I reply confidently. He wouldn't be asking me if I wasn't up to the task.

"You are going to go undercover as a hunter," he says, "a job your particular attributes will benefit you. Holy water resistance and all that. It wouldn't get you very far if another hunter were to hit an actual, full-blooded demon, with a shot of that shit."

"Of course," I agree, leaving it at that as he continues.

"You are to pose as a hunter," he tells me, "in order to get close to the Winchesters. You are to befriend them, gain their trust, live with them, hunt with them – you name it. Then, when the time is right, I will contact you, and you will lead them to me, like lambs to the slaughter. You need to be so convincing that they trust you to lead them to Hell and back. Literally."

Okay," I say, nodding. "But why now? You've never cared enough to get rid of them before, and they've been causing you grief for years." It's true, besides Crowley's own foul moods over the Winchesters, the other demons who've met them – the ones who've lived to tell about it – tell stories about the infamous brothers. Each and every demon in Hell would betray the Devil himself for the chance to be the one to kill the Winchesters.

"Leave the why to me," he says, choosing not to discipline me for daring to question him. "You are going to focus on the how. Now, this is what you're going to do…"