A few years later, Crowley was relaxing in his office back in Hell after checking over the paperwork. He decided to turn the TV on (Hell had finally gone through some technological advances) and check the news, just to have a laugh at what idiotic misdemeanours humans had been up to now. The first story was a review of the situation with those pesky Winchester kids; the sightings of them since they had supposedly died in jail. Crowley vaguely figured he'd have to watch out for them in the future, however the older brother had a deal that was due in a few months. That'll be interesting. Another story about a burglary in Wisconsin, a double homicide in South Dakota. Just the usual boring rubbish.

As he leaned back in his cushioned chair with a glass of whiskey (Craigs, his favourite), a story caught his eye. It was completely uninteresting at first, yet soon captured the demon's limited attention span when he saw who it was focused on.

"A young boy from Michigan wins international Mathematics championship at just thirteen years of age. He solved the challenge in record time, against competitors twice his age. Here we see him celebrate with his proud mother…" The camera showed a familiar looking boy smiling joyfully with a woman in her early forties who Crowley assumed was his mother. It took a moment, but the King of the Crossroads recognised him as the boy who made a deal with him when he was nine-years-old. Kevin Tran, his name was. That boy sure was famous in Hell. Half the demons couldn't wait to meet him in six years' time. And 'meet' is the delicate term.

"Huh." Crowley grunted as he took a sip of alcohol. Nice to see someone appreciating their new skills. But, to be fair, he doesn't exactly remember making the deal. Silly kid, he thought. He actually reminded him of his own son from when he was human. But more intelligent. Crowley shivered. Those were not days he liked to remember.

After reminiscing for a moment, Crowley switched off the TV with a slight flick of his hand. Anyway, he needed to conjure a masseuse. The demon had to feed his hedonism regularly. If he spent all his time deliberating over the lives of all the pitiful humans who had sold their souls, he wouldn't get to make any more deals. Or, more importantly, indulge himself in the finer things in life.

Another 4 and a bit years later

"A PROPHET?! That fake mathematical genius is a bloody prophet?" Crowley yelled at his demon accomplices. They shifted nervously from side to side, averting their eyes from the King of Hell's furious expression. "And not only that, but you two clowns are telling me that the WINCHESTERS have got him!"

"We're sorry, sir. It's not our fault…"

"NOT YOUR FAULT! You know, I don't have time to listen to your stupidity." Crowley drew a demonic knife from his pocket and drew it across the first demon's throat, creating a red smile that spurted iridescent red across the room. The other demon's face was a mask of pure horror as Crowley stepped towards him and thrust the blade into his stomach.

"Honestly. This is a brand new carpet as well." The King of Hell sighed irritably as the two monkeys choked on their own blood, gasping for breath (like they needed it) and whispering for help.

After helping the Winchesters with a weapon to take down the Leviathan leader, he believed they owed him a little respect. And stealing a prophet that was going to die in two years anyway was not the right way to go about it. Well, he couldn't confront them about it now. Moose and Squirrel were taking down Dick as he stood there. Besides, confrontation wasn't really his style. No. He'd give the Hardy boys a taste of their own medicine and steal the boy back. Not that Kevin belonged to him in the first place. Well, technically his soul did.

Since it was likely that Dean and Sparkles would go to Purgatory (oh yes, he knew about that) after killing Dick, Moose would be all by himself which would leave the perfect gap for Crowley to grab the prophet and leave. Then, as well as scoring a point against the Winchesters, he could get Kevin to translate the demon tablet he recently acquired.

Strolling out to the corridor, Crowley found two more demons whom he considered more suitable for his next job and dragged them back to his office, sitting them down on two chairs he conjured. Leaning on his desk, he explained the situation to them.

"So, I need you two lovely lads to wait here, and then, when the Hardy boys have gone, I'll give you a lift over and we can grab the prophet." The King of Hell tilted towards the slightly anxious demons and lowered his voice. "Just to let you know, if you do this, a promotion may be on the cards." Their faces lit up. "But, if you don't… you'll be the next on my personal torture rack." Crowley smiled angelically as the demons gulped. "So… You up for it?"

"Um, yes, sir." They accepted, knowing that if they refused they would surely be worse off.

"Fantastic!" Crowley clapped his hands together gleefully, feeling somewhat more optimistic than a few minutes ago. "Let's rumble."

Shortly after seeing the Winchesters depart (well, one of them and the angel), Crowley felt the need to have one last torment with Moose (Oh, come on! How could he resist an opportunity like that? After all, he was a demon.) Gigantor was turning from left to right, taking his long hair with him, looking lost and alone, despite the fact that Kevin was with him. Crowley appeared in front of him.

"Where are they, Crowley?!" Sam panicked.

"Can't help you, Sam." Crowley taunted back. Snapping his fingers, the two demons teleported at either side of Kevin.

"Sorry, Sam. Prophet's mine." Snapping his fingers yet again, Kevin disappeared along with the demons. After a little dig at Moose, Crowley followed them to a warehouse that he had carefully selected, and was also where the prophet would be spending many of his days; at least until the demon tablet was translated.

"Oh, hello again, Kevin. Bet you didn't expect to see my pretty face so soon, did you?" Crowley knew the boy wouldn't understand what he meant, but the demon preyed on human's confused emotions. It was so amusing.

"W-wha? W-who are…" the boy began, but knew he wasn't going to get an answer.