"We don't tell her anything - not even about the First Blade. She stays here where she's safe. No one but us and Crowley and maybe Cas get to speak to her. Then she goes back to Chicago."

Sam nodded solemnly. He felt guilty lying to his sister - keeping her in the dark about everything. She was still family. She deserved to know. Dean only thought he was doing what was best. Perhaps in the long run, it was best.

CHAPTER FOUR

In which Rose has a problem

(Written to: Puzzles (Variation) by Tomohito Nishiura from Professor Layton and the Last Time Travel)

/watch/?v=jN9bHYNtPMg#Professor_Layton_and_the_Last_Time_Travel_OST_18_-_Puzzles_(Variation)

When Rose at last woke up from her short night of sleep, she found Crowley's warm arms around her. With a smile, Rose placed a small peck of a kiss on his cheek.

"Don't you ever get bored watching me sleep?" Her voice was groggy and drunk with sleep.

"Not in the least, Flower. You're very entertaining when you sleep." Crowley smirked. Rose was certain that one day his face would be stuck like that.

She rolled her eyes and clambered out of bed in the least graceful manner possible. It took a strong, supportive arm from Crowley for her to regain her balance and not faceplant on the hard floor.

"What time is it?" Rose muttered, already digging through her duffel bag for a change of clothes.

Crowley stretched across the bed for Rose's phone. "10:23."

When he rolled back over to watch the half-dressed girl fumble with her clothing, he continued speaking slowly, distracted by the view. "The boys have gone to check in with their dear Castiel, and I have a meeting later today. You'll be a good girl while I'm gone won't you, Flower?"

Rose cocked her head and rolled her eyes. "You're almost as bad as them. You of all people know that I can take care of myself. I've kicked your ass more than once."

With a huff, Crowley sat up. "Because I let you." Before Rose could retort, he continued. "She's not a run-of-the-mill demon. I would get you a babysitter if I trusted one, but I can't. So you're under house arrest. Well...bunker arrest."

"I'm a big girl. I've got my big girl panties on and everything." Rose added a shake of her ass for emphasis, then pulled her jeans on. "I'll be just fine."

"Rose." Crowley used a tone that Rose knew meant he was deadly serious. It was a tone she rarely heard from him. The last four years pretty much only consisted of the two of them fooling around, cracking jokes, and, well, having sex. There weren't a whole lot of opportunities for him to be so serious with her. Rose only ever heard that tone when he was on the phone with an idiotic demon that had screwed up one time too many, and he had only used it with her once - and that was a particular memory neither of them liked to remember.

"Crowley…" She sighed. "I'll be fine. You know I will."

Crowley's lips were pressed together so tightly, Rose thought for a moment that they might never open again.

"When's your meeting? Anything interesting?" Rose didn't want to discuss her safety anymore. She was desperate to think of anything else - and she wanted to know when she could start digging around for information on her brothers' secrets.

"In an hour and a half. Roughly." The intense expression on his face melted and was exchanged for a playful smirk.

Rose laughed. "Why did I even bother trying to get dressed?" She mused to herself.

The hour and a half went by….well, let's just say there wasn't a moment wasted. After Rose had gotten dressed all over again and Crowley was gone for his meeting (which he never did tell her what it was for), she had gotten some food and set to work snooping.

Rose started with Dean's room, then Sam's. She found absolutely nothing of significance. So she moved on to the library, hoping they left something helpful. Much to her surprise and delight, there was a sizeable stack of books still sitting out.

Rose had wasted no time in beginning her reading. She analyzed damn near every single page, desperate for answers. They were just old lore books, probably left out after a recent case, but maybe - just maybe - if she was lucky, there would be something about the secrets they had been keeping from her. If there was clue to be found, her only hope was with the old books about biblical stories as old as time itself that sat on the library table.

As focused as she was on the content of the pages before her, her mind couldn't help but wander. It wasn't like her brothers to lie to her. They told her about every case they took, every monster they ganked. They didn't hide things from her. Every trip they took to visit her, every time they dropped in, they always caught her up on their recent cases. They never spared a detail. So what was so special about their mess with Abaddon that they couldn't tell her?

A wave of pain shook her from her thoughts. It was like something had its hands around her insides and her internal organs were being wrung like a dishcloth.

"Damn.." Rose mumbled and squeezed her eyes shut, willing the pain to go away. Rubbing a hand across her lower abdomen, she lowered the book and curled herself up in the chair.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me. Not now…" She groaned. "I better have remembered to pack pads. Maybe a tampon."

After ten minutes of groans and clutching her abdomen, the cramps eased up enough that Rose could stand and rush to her room. She flew to her duffel, throwing its contents about.

"Shit….just my luck…." She had completely forgotten that she was due for her period.

Sam and Dean had never seen anything like the building they were walking through. It was full of desks and computers. Phones were ringing in the background. It was surprisingly neat and tidy, and several computers were constantly running searches for anyone matching the description of Metatron's vessel. There were dozens of vesseled-up angels that they could see just in the small section they went through to get to their 'Commander', who, as it turned out, ended up being their good buddy Castiel.

"So. Commander?" Dean asked.

"Not my idea. They had no leader and they insisted on following me." Castiel explained, a hint of regret in his voice.

"Yeah, no, we get it - you're a rockstar." Dean retorted.

"Bartholomew is dead. Malachi was murder by Gadreel, and with Metatron as powerful as he is now, I needed to do something." While Cas spoke, Sam not-so-subtly peeked through the blinds hanging against the windows of the Commander's office.

"So this war between angels is really gonna happen, huh?" The younger Winchester brother asked.

"Not if I can find a diplomatic option for getting rid of Metatron." Castiel was adamant about this. He didn't want more violence than was necessary.

"Good luck with that." Dean sassed.

"Dean, this angel-on-angel violence has to end. Someone has to say 'enough.'"

"And that someone is you?" Sam returned to looking at the angel and his spot next to his older brother.

"That brings me to why you're here. We have a prisoner; an angel from Metatron's inner circle. I need to know what they're planning. So far he's revealed nothing."

"So you're done with the rough stuff and you want us to be your goons?" Dean crossed his arms, watching Castiel with raised brows.

"Well, you've had success with these situations before." Cas spoke simply, but was reluctantly so say the words. He backpedaled after a moment of silence. "If you don't want to do it, I understand."

Dean shifted his weight. "Who says I don't wanna do it?"

Sam watched his brother carefully. Was he ready for something like this? Was it safe for him to do that with the Mark still affecting him? He was worried to say the least, but there wasn't much he could do to stop him.

But before the brothers could leave the office, Cas asked: "How's Rose?"

Dean's demeanor switched almost on the spot, and Cas noticed the anger in his eyes instantly.

"She's alright, isn't she?" There was a flicker of worry in his voice. He enjoyed the girl's company. In fact, he had come to consider her a close friend. She was much more compassionate and considerate about his ignorances than her brothers were.

"She's fine." Sam answered quickly. "She's just, uh-"

"She's been screwing Crowley." Dean spat out.

Castiel blinked a few times and tilted his head, not fully grasping what Dean meant. He had learned a few things while he was human, but he wasn't entirely sure what he was saying. Perhaps he understood the words, but didn't want to understand the meaning.

"They're, uh….together." Sam explained quietly, glancing at his brother.

"Oh." The angel's eyes widened. "Well that is…..unexpected."

After a tense few seconds of silence that felt more like hours, he asked: "Where is she?"

"At the Bunker with Crowley. We don't exactly like it, but she seems to trust him and, well, she can be persuasive when she wants to be." Sam answered before Dean could spit out a series of curses.

"So let's just get this over with so we can get back and chaperone." Dean retorted, then headed off to interrogate Metatron's angel minion.

It hadn't taken Rose long to find the keys to one of the cars the Men of Letters so kindly left behind for her to use. The nearest gas station was roughly fifteen minutes away - ten if she drove fast. So she figured it would be twenty minutes of driving and maybe five to grab what she needed. What could go wrong in half an hour?

Despite the bounty on her head, she felt safe enough to get the necessities then hurry back. She wasn't stupid; she wasn't going to waste more time outside of the safety of the Bunker than was necessary. But she sure as hell wasn't going to bleed her panties a whole new shade of red or stuff a roll of toilet paper down her pants.

Part of her sense of security was actually thanks to Crowley. He had taken it upon himself to teach the girl almost everything he knew about witchcraft. Rose had used every protection and shielding spell she knew on herself before leaving. She had a hex bag in her back pocket, a gun in her waistband, and an angel blade in her jacket. There was no way any demon was going to grab her without a serious fight - if they could find her in the first place.

It was just a quick run into the gas station. In and out just to grab a little pack of pads. She didn't need a whole bunch and there were already painkillers back at the Bunker.

Rose was in such a rush, however, that she failed to notice the strange look the cashier gave her the moment she walked in. She didn't pay much mind to her surroundings. She was spelled up and armed. And besides, it was just a little gas station off the beaten path. There weren't exactly many people around - let alone anyone suspicious.

But Rose would have thought otherwise if she had seen the cashier furiously texting away on his cellphone, all the while casting little wary glances up at the brunette. Instead, she was scouring the aisles looking for what she needed.

When she settled on a pack of ten decently-sized pads with wings and bellied up to the bar to pay, she failed to look at the cashier before she reached into her pocket for her wallet. She failed to notice how quickly he stashed his phone and the little smirk on his face.

However, she did notice that he took his sweet time scanning the little package. He spent a good minute or two just trying to get the scanner to work, giving some excuse about it acting up lately. He spent another minute squinting at the barcode for the little numbers to punch in. He took his time with his words, asking if she needed a bag for her purchase.

By that point, Rose was suspicious on top of frustrated. She just wanted her damn pads so she wouldn't bleed through her pants.

She had grabbed the package rather unceremoniously and all but bolted for the door. The puzzle only fit together when she found the doors locked and not a single soul in sight, save for her and the odd cashier.

But when she spun around to ask why the doors were locked, she wasn't in the gas station anymore. No, she was in a rather fancy looking hotel room.

There was a large table with at least a dozen chairs - all of which were occupied by well dressed, grim expressioned people. Closer to Rose was a coffee table. On either side of said table was a matching set of chairs and a loveseat. In one of those chairs was a redheaded woman, grinning maniacally. She held a drink with one manicured hand and the other was held up as if she had been speaking with her hands.

Across from her stood a man dressed in all black and a masked expression that hid the silent horror in his eyes - a man Rose knew all too well.

Above the shouts of pain and the muffled pleadings, Rose sighed.

"You've got to be kidding me."