It was weird, having errands to run. Usually, things were so simple. Wake up, go to work, come home, go to bed, and repeat. I've been in the same routine for the past year. It's the first bit of normal stability I've had since the orphanage fire. And I did it all by myself. But now, I'd have to pick up and find somewhere new again. Before I did that, though, I had to run some errands.

I left Crowley to take care of what little packing I had to do. As long as he doesn't burn my apartment down and it's not too stressful for him, I'm sure things will work out. First on my list of things to do was a trip to the theatre. I was looking forward to this like a trip to the gynecologist. A bittersweet kind of thing. Mike was sitting up in the sound booth, taking one of his afternoon naps. Waking him was one of those things on the do not do unless there's an emergency. I guess I could count my paycheck as an emergency. I needed to get out of town as soon as possible. And I had other things to do today.

"Mike," I nudged him, "Mike, wake up."

"I wasn't sleeping," he sat up, lying through his teeth," Hey, Lizzie. What's up?"

"I need my last paycheck," I requested, "And consider this my resignation."

"What?" Mike gasped, "Why? Where are you going? Is this because of Marley? Because she's expendable."

"No," I settled him, "I'm not having any problems with the others. I just need a change of scenery. But seriously, man. Thank you for everything."

"Even for Roxie?"

"Especially for Roxie," I hugged him, "Now, my paycheck?"

"Yeah," he woke up a little more, "It's downstairs. I'll go get it for you."

"Thanks," I followed him out of the sound booth and sat on the stage. I spent a whole year in this place. It became my second home. I'm going to miss it here.

"Hey, Lizzie," Mike held the check in his hands, "Before you leave...Can I ask you for one more favor?"

"Sure," I humored him, "What do you need?"

"Do you think..." he bit his lip, "I could get one more song? Before you leave me forever?"

"I'm sure I'll be back around one day," I rolled my eyes, "Drama queen."

"Please, Lizzie," Mike begged, "Just one."

"Fine," I caved, "Any requests?"

"Anything you want."

"Ok." Whenever I sang something for Mike, it had some kind of deeper meaning behind it or some sort of memory. This one? Not really. It was just a catchy tune, "You only get a few bars, though. I got other crap to do today."

"Fine by me."

"Alright," I cleared my throat and started singing, "There's a girl in this harbor town. And she works laying whiskey down. He'd say Brandy, fetch another round. She serves them whiskey and wine."

"Please keep going," Mike insisted, "For me?"

"Sorry, Man," I threw my bag around my shoulder, "Like I said, I'm a busy girl. I'll be out of Baltimore by tonight. Ideally, anyway. Give or take."

"Well, Lizzie," he hugged me one last time, "Wherever you end up, good luck. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," I let him go, "This won't entirely be goodbye, Mike. You never know when I'll be back."

"Hopefully, you won't be gone too long."

Mike waved me off and I put my final paycheck in the front zipper pocket of my bag. One thing on the to-do list down. A bajillion left to go. The next stop on our before leaving Baltimore train of fun and excitement was one I wasn't overly thrilled about, but it had to be done. Sam and Dean know what I look like and no doubt, they've told some of their hunter buddies. That description had to change.

One of the women who worked on Chicago had a salon downtown and told me I was welcome any time. So, why not kill a quick hour with her? It felt weird. The last time I had this done, I took fake ID pictures shortly after. They took away my pretty, mermaid blue dye job...Dicks. Who says that someone at the bureau couldn't have blue hair? Government guidelines? Ok.

Before I knew it, my dark blonde hair turned jet black, making me look much paler than I already was. It was definitely different. That's for sure. I could hear my friend Mel bitching at me in the back of my head. Don't ever dye your hair black, Lena. It'll be impossible to dye it any time after that without intense and extensive bleaching. Don't you do it. Sorry, Mel. It had to be done. If you were on the run, too, you'd understand.

On my way back to my apartment for the last time, I grabbed an iced coffee. Dean made fun of me whenever I'd get iced coffee. He'd tell me to just get the chocolate milk like a normal person instead of the half-caff mocha macchiato with extra whip and a pump and a half of caramel syrup or something else ridiculous. He's just denying himself happiness. The caffeine boost would sorely be needed if I was going to drive through the night. When I pulled up to my building, Crowley was already giving my landlord my keys. I guess he was done with the packing.

"Alright," I pushed past him and threw myself on the couch, "We can get going now."

"Oh my," Crowley gasped, "I really do wish I would've kept you instead of giving you back to Sam and Dean. Aren't you adorable!"

"Duh," I scoffed, "I'm me."

"I would've kept the blonde personally," he shrugged, "But this is good, too."

"Maybe I'll think about bleaching it again," I mumbled into a throw pillow, "But unless the boys get another close look at me, it's staying black."

"Are you alright, Lena?" Crowley worried, "You seem a bit tired."

I felt around in my jacket pockets and tossed the little demon my keys, "Here. You're driving. I can hardly keep my eyes open."

"Your car?" he checked me over, "Are you sick?"

"Tired."

"You know," Crowley helped me back up and into the passenger seat, "I could help you with that. I could give you something that'd be like Red Bull on steroids. You'd be able to feel the pulse of the Earth and see into the matrix."

"Sounds like fun," I rested my head on his shoulder, "Give."

"Well, well," he beamed, running a knife across his skin, "I didn't think you'd be so receptible to demon blood. One would think your brothers would've beaten that idea out of your head."

"Hold on," I perked up, "Demon blood?"

"What else did you think I was going to give you?" Crowley wondered, "Trust me, Lena. It's fine."

I remember a certain book series warning me about the dangers of doing demon blood. It might have made Sam a badass for a while, but it was also slowly killing him and made him a little less human. No. Becoming a demon wasn't exactly in the cards for me. No matter how bad things got or how appealing Crowley made it look, that's not happening.

"No, thank you," I turned him down, watching the deep red liquid gush out of the palm of his hand, "I'm going to have to take a hard pass."

"Are you sure?" My god, this guy really was a demon, "Better than any vice you've ever had…It'll be great…"

"Do you want me to get in your panel van or no?" I sat up a bit better, "I'm sure. That's a no on the demon blood front."

"Alright," Crowley fired up the engine, "Well then, Lena, my dear, do you have anywhere in particular you'd care to go?"

"Anywhere else but here," I kicked my shoes off and put my feet up on the dash. It was getting pretty late and a bed sounded nice, but for right now, my passenger seat would do. I'm going to miss you, Baltimore. It's been fun. It sucks that we have to part ways, but I'll be back one day. Maybe once all this nonsense is over and I split from the boys for good, I can come back here.

"So," Crowley broke the silence, "While you were out and about this afternoon, I did a little scouting for possible hiding spots."

"That's fascinating, Crowley," I was nearly asleep already. Even though the buzzing on my thigh was making that a little difficult. Knowing that it was either Sam, Dean, or Cas, I decided to ignore it.

"You know what?" he caught my bitter, sleep deprived mood, "Why don't you get some sleep? I'll surprise you when we get there."

"Ok," I waved deliriously, "Nighty night."

"Good night."

I don't understand why, but I always slept better in a car. And this was even before I met Sam and Dean. When I was little, I napped in this car. When I stayed with "a friend" in Sioux Falls and I couldn't sleep, Uncle Bobby would take a few laps around the block and I'd be sleeping like a baby. To this day, nothing worked better than some good tunes on the radio, the window cracked, and the rumble of the engine.

A little while later, I felt us stop. What the hell…? I was liking the solitude. Some Gas 'n Sip's neon burned through my eyelids. Nope. Screw this. I grabbed my sunglasses out of my bag and killed the brightness. Must be the blue slushie stop. I wonder where we are. Only about half an hour out of Baltimore, according to the clock. So, Annapolis, maybe? Edgewood? There's no way we've hit DC already. Not quite sure the direction Crowley took. Regardless, I didn't need to be awake.

"Lena…"

"Balls…" I grumbled, "What?"

"Wake up, darling," Crowley insisted, "We're here."

"Where is here exactly?" I kept my eyes shut.

"Beltsville, Maryland," he reported, "Look out your window…"

This better be a life or death situation or we've made contact with aliens, Crowley, or so help me, I'll kill you. When I opened my eyes, I saw something better than alien contact. A bright blue Hostess sign lit up the dark night. I looked over at the demon driving my car with a big ass smile on my face, "No…"

"It's yours if you want it," Crowley allowed, "I got a bottle of double barrel whiskey and a cheap red at our last gas stop and a pack of cigarettes, too."

"Thank you," I was running low. And he said he was going to make me quit.

"And ever since you mentioned Twinkies," he admitted, "They're all I could think about. I'm sure they have some ready to ship already. Ever have one straight from the conveyor belt?"

"No," my excitement only grew.

"Well then," Crowley got my door for me, offering his hand, "Shall we?"

I know I've called demons scum before, but this was the one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Also, possibly the most extra. Then again, who was Crowley if he wasn't being extra? Nothing else mattered right now. Not my leaving Baltimore. Not me leaving the bunker. Not Sam and Dean on my ass. Because my inner fat kid was about to be indulged in the best way.

With his usual sense of finesse, Crowley undid the lock on the door and my heart skipped a beat. I once asked Cas about Heaven and what it was like. He told me that everyone's was different. Some may see it as an eternal Tuesday afternoon with the sun shining and the grass green. Some may see it as Woodstock on a loop. Some may see it as a little roadhouse with twenty-four happy hours a day and no hangovers. But this? If I'm still allowed through the Pearly Gates, this is what my Heaven looks like. An abandoned Hostess factory in Maryland, stocked to the brim with a good bottle of whiskey to myself.

"Crowley," I stared into the warehouse in total awe, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he scooted me along, "Go on. The whole place is yours, Lena. And I have a date with a Twinkie."

And I had a date with anything that had a high sugar content and red dye #40 in it. This brought Willy Wonka to shame. But I did have one thing burning on my mind, "Hey, Crowley!"

"Yes, Lena?" he called out from the opposite end of the warehouse.

"Can I just go to town in here without gaining any weight?" I hoped, "Is that something you can prevent?"

"Of course."

Yay! This really was all of the sin and none of the guilt. I've never been so happy. I had Twinkies. I had Ho-Hos. I had Ding Dongs. I could make an honest to god snow angel in Sno-Balls if I wanted to. In fact, that didn't sound like a half bad idea. I ripped enough boxes open to make a small mountain. And I laid in my small mountain with my bottle of whiskey between my legs, a cigarette in one hand, and a Sno-Ball in the other. Life was good. Lucifer could waltz in here right now with all the threats in the world, and I wouldn't even care.

"Enjoying yourself, are we?" Crowley teased, joining me on my Sno-Ball mountain.

"I could puke," I admitted, blowing out a cloud of smoke, "But it'd be the most diabetic coma inducing puke I will ever have in my life. This is fantastic. Hell of an idea you had, Crowley. Hell of an idea."

"It wasn't my idea," he pointed out, "That was your brainchild. I told you. Anything you want, I can make it happen."

"You know what else?" I opened another package, "They get a bad rap and I know this is going to be a controversial opinion, but I like Sno-Balls. I don't care what anyone else says. They have a place in this world."

"Really?" Crowley gasped, "I never would've expected you to be the type for Sno-Balls. I learned something new today. Look at that."

"I do like Sno-Balls," I confirmed, "I'm a sucker for coconut."

"Me, too," he agreed, "But nothing can beat a good, old-fashioned Twinkie."

"Amen, sister," I took a drink from my whiskey.

"This wine pairs quite nicely with a Twinkie," Crowley offered me the bottle, "Go on. It's not going to kill you. I won't tell your parents."

"I hardly knew my parents," I took the bottle, getting a heavy swallow from it, "It's catching your herpes. That's what I'm worried about."

"What herpes?" he chuckled a bit.

"Come on," I jabbed, "With the amount of crossroads deals you've sealed with many kisses you've made over the years, you can't tell me you never contracted something."

"Sorry to disappoint," Crowley assured, fighting a smile, "What'd you think of the wine? Pretty good, don't you think?"

"Yeah," I savored it a little more, "What kind is this? Hardly any and I feel amazing!"

"It's a…" he thought for a minute, "Let's call it a demonic vintage. It's not often I drink from my private collection anymore, let alone share."

"You never did seem like the sharing type," I babbled along, "This isn't half bad. I need more of this in my life. How much do you have in your cellar?"

"I'm not sure," Crowley took the bottle back, "We can't have you drinking too much of that and getting too sloppy."

"Aye, aye, Captain," I gave him half a salute.

Ring, ring.

"Now, excuse me. I have to take this," Crowley got his phone from his inside pocket and put it on speaker, "Moose! Long time, no see!"

"It's Sam?!" I freaked, keeping my voice down.

Crowley nodded, "So, how are you? Doing well, I hope?"

"You seem oddly chipper," Sam wondered, "Are you drunk?"

"Not entirely drunk," he assessed, "But on my way there."

"Anyway," Sam brushed him off, "You still have your feelers out on Lena?"

"I do," Crowley shot a wink at me, "So far, I've got nothing. What about you? Anything?"

"Nope," he let out a heavy sigh, "Wherever she's hiding, she's expert levels right now. And Dean's an absolute mess."

"Give him a kiss for me."

"Not helping," Sam scolded, "And speaking of not helping, sending us to see Chicago didn't help either."

"I offer a little bit of culture in you boys' lives and that's the thanks I get?" Crowley scoffed, "Honestly…Don't say I never tried."

"It's not really his thing," Sam clarified.

"Oh, well," he shrugged, "I tried."

"Look," Sam brought it back, "Let us know if you hear anything. We both love Lena to death, but if things get too rough for her, I wouldn't put it past her to make a deal. And if she does…If she even tries to and you're not the one to handle it…If you even lay a finger on her soul…"

"Yes, Sam," Crowley rolled his eyes, "I love you, too. Let's do this again over lunch."

Click.

"They really are worried about me," I assumed, "Aren't they?"

"Yep," he slipped his phone back in his pocket, "Lena, by any chance, are you warded?"

"Define warded."

"Did Sam and Dean take you to get any tattoos?" he wondered.

"No," I lifted my pants leg up to my knee, revealing a few sigils on the back of my calf, "I went to get them all by myself."

"My god," Crowley awed, "Don't we just have the hunter's cheat sheet?"

"Hey, Crowley," I jumped down from my pile of treats, "What was all in that wine? I feel like I could take down this building with a hiccup."

"Nothing special," he settled me, "I don't know about you, but I'm stuffed."

"Me, too," I agreed, "How about we grab a hotel, rest up, and hit it hard in the morning? The Hostess factory is only the beginning."

"Yes, ma'am," Crowley bowed, "Lead the way."

I let Crowley keep my car keys because there was no way I was in any shape to drive. On the ride to the crappy motel on the outskirts of town, my head started to feel weird. Not quite a headache, but not quite anything else. It felt like a bubble bath for my brain, if that made any sense. Maybe it was the whiskey, the wine, and the sugar working together. Whatever it was, it made me wickedly dizzy. And if I didn't know any better, I'd think we just passed the motel.

"Crowley, what the hell?" I wondered, "Where are we going?"

"You're so used to traveling with your brothers," he explained, "You really think I'm going to stay in a hovel like that? No, no, darling. That's not how we play here."

"So, we're staying somewhere classy?" I figured, "Cool."

He wasn't joking. This place was nice! I felt like I could touch things in here and not catch something. I've never seen this place in a porno. Crowley was treating me like a princess and I wasn't quite sure why. I knew he adored me, but this was over the top. Even for him. Regardless, I'm not going to look this gift horse in the mouth. I stumbled up the stairs and fell onto the bed. This weird headache was getting even worse.

"Alright, Bloody Mary," Crowley helped me into my bed, "Get some sleep."

"Hey," I giggled, "Hey, Crowley…"

"Yes, Lena."

"Will you tell me a bedtime story?" I requested, "Please?"

"Lena…"

"Pleeeeeease?" I drawled.

"No, Lena," he put his foot down, "Go to sleep."

"Okie dokie!" Hopefully, I can sleep off this headache. In the comfort of my temporary bed, I shut my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

A/N: Can we take a minute to appreciate Crowley here so far? He's been a hell of a rock for Lena since he popped up out of nowhere. Even now, he's covering for her. Even going as far as tucking her into bed. More than once now. He just…He makes me so happy in this series. He's such a mom. I'm going to stop gushing now and started editing tomorrow's update, if that's cool with you. You know, you're more than welcome to provide constructive discussion. I'll see you next chapter! xx