The office building was quite new if rather bland and to the casual passer-by it probably seemed entirely unremarkable. But as Sam and Dean approached the door, Cas gasped.
"What is it?" sam said, one hand on Cas's arm.
"There are anti-angel wardings on this building," the angel said. "I can't go in."
"Damn it," Dean said. "I guess that means someone was expecting us." He wandered over to the building. There was a hessian rug in front of the door with a strange symbol on it. Dean peered at it and beckoned Sam over to take a look.
"What is that?" Sam asked.
"It's the sigil of Asmodeus," a voice drawled behind them. Sam whirled around to see Crowley leaning insouciantly against the Impala.
"Crowley," Dean grunted. "Where have you been?"
"Just a little investigating of my own," Crowley said. "I think we've all come to the same conclusion, haven't we?"
"Maybe," Dean allowed. "We're still not sure if Andrew Davidson is Asmodeus or if he just summoned him."
"Ah, well, that's where I'm a step ahead," Crowley said, looking pleased. "Davidson invited Ash here, and offered himself as a meatsuit."
"Ash?" Dean said, looking unhappy at the nickname. Crowley looked amused at his expression. "Why would he do that?" The demon shrugged, but something around his eyes told Sam that he was not pleased to be in the dark.
"How do you know?" Sam asked.
"He and Dagon have something of a longstanding rivalry. Turns out she keeps tabs on him. She was only too happy to spill the beans." Crowley grinned and put his hand in his pocket, drawing out a scrap of parchment. "And she even supplied me with a banishment ritual."
"Can't we just gank him?" Dean snarled.
"Darling, as much as I enjoy your bloodthirsty side, no. Killing Ash, or any Prince of Hell is no easy task as well you know. Ruby's old knife certainly won't do the trick. How long did you have to hunt Azazel before you could put him down?" Crowley's eyes were bright as he waved the parchment at Dean. "But this will send him screaming back to the lowest levels of Hell, and it will take him some time to crawl back out."
"Fine," Dean said sulkily, snatching the parchment out of Crowley's hands. "What else do we need?"
"Nothing exotic," Crowley said. "Devil's Trap, some holy water. Juniper berries if you can get them but they aren't essential."
"We have some dried ones in the car," Sam reminded his brother.
"Right," Dean peered in the office window and waved Sam over. "There's nobody in there."
"No," Crowley said. "I asked to meet him here in half an hour. That should be enough time, don't you think?"
"What?" Dean yelped. "Dammit, Crowley."
"Relax," the demon said. "It's all under control." He clicked his fingers and transported himself inside and then opened the door to let them in. Cas went back to the Impala with a troubled look on his face and Sam followed him. He opened the trunk and began to hunt for the juniper berries.
"Is everything all right," he muttered to Cas.
"No," the angel replied. "I don't like this. It's too neat and convenient. Crowley finds out what's going on, shows up with the exact spell we need at the precise moment we come to investigate this office. That's quite a coincidence and I don't trust coincidences where Crowley is involved."
"Me either," Sam agreed. "You think he's gonna double-cross us?"
"I don't know," Cas hissed in frustration. "That's the problem. I can't figure out what his angle is on this."
"Let's see how it plays out," Sam suggested. When Cas opened his mouth to object, he added, "I'll be careful. And if we can destroy those wards we will."
The angel huffed unhappily and Sam flicked his eyes to the office door. Dean and Crowley had obviously gone inside, so he took the opportunity to lay a quick kiss on Cas's lips. The angel cupped his jaw for a moment and then stepped back. Sam nodded and closed the trunk, hurrying back to Davidson's office.
As soon as he entered, Sam saw that Dean had peeled back the ornate Chinese rug on the floor and begun sketching out a devil's trap. Sam scattered the juniper berries as Crowley had advised. Dean handed the chalk to Sam to finish the trap and surveyed the room, laying salt at all the exits except the one they expected Asmodeus to come through. No way was he smoking out of here at the last minute.
"I don't like doing this without Cas," Sam said.
"Aww, poor Sammy misses his boyfriend," Crowley mocked.
"Shut up," Sam hissed.
"Yeah, Crowley, shut your pie hole," Dean added.
"Touchy," Crowley grumbled.
Sam's phone vibrated and he pulled it out to see a text from Cas telling him the demon had arrived.
"He's here," Sam said.
Crowley made a complicated gesture over each of their heads. "This will keep Ash from seeing, hearing or otherwise detecting you. But you have to keep still or the glamor will break."
He sprawled into one of the large leather chairs and summoned up a glass of brandy. The man who entered the room was tall, with tightly cropped blond hair and faded blue eyes behind wire-framed glasses. He was slender and moved with an elegant grace. His face pinched when he saw Crowley.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming," he said in a slightly nasal voice.
"I'm hardly the type to stand around in the street," Crowley said.
"Indeed. Is that angel out there some kind of pet?"
"Something like that," Crowley deflected. Sam resisted the urge to growl.
"Well, what do you want? Just because you're the King of Hell doesn't mean you get to boss me around."
"Ash, please. I'm not here to rain on your parade. But you are supposed to keep your hobbies on the downlow. This business with the woman who got shot on the freeway is attracting all the wrong kinds of attention." Crowley waved his glass and brandy sloshed out and onto the floor. Asmodeus's nostrils flared in irritation.
"She brought it on herself," he snapped. "We were so close, Crowley. I was sure this time it was going to work."
"The half-demon breeding experiments," Crowley said icily. "Those were banned for a reason."
"Lucifer's too prissy," Asmodeus said, waving a hand dismissively. "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few humans."
"I doubt he cares about the humans," Crowley corrected. "It's the half-demons themselves who are the problem."
"You too? You disappoint me, Crowley. I thought you at least would see the art in my work." Asmodeus sauntered across the room, right across the devil's trap Sam had laid under the rug and then froze.
"Crowley, what is this?" he demanded, struggling against the hold of the trap.
"Like I say, you've attracted the wrong sort of attention. Boys?" Sam and Dean started to move and Asmodeus's eyes widened as the glamor fell away.
"Hunters? Have you lost your mind?" Asmodeus snarled, his face contorted with rage.
Crowley shrugged. "No. But the truly mad never do know they're insane, do they?" He grinned broadly at Asmodeus. "I've been content to leave you and the other Princes alone. You're not interested in ruling Hell, and everyone was happy. Why did you have to go and screw that up?"
Asmodeus's eyes narrowed. "Lucifer needs a new vessel. One who will be more malleable than Sam Winchester. A half-demon would have suited his purposes perfectly."
"Lucifer's in the Cage," Crowley snorted.
"He is for now. Not for very much longer."
Sam went white and Dean grabbed his arm. "Don't panic, Sammy."
"I'm bored now," Crowley announced. "Dean, sweetie, if you would."
Dean gave Sam one more concerned look and then opened a bottle of holy water and threw it at Asmodeus, whose skin smoked and hissed. Sam cleared his throat and began to read the incantation aloud, banishing Asmodeus to the lowest circle of Hell. But Asmodeus was not a Prince of Hell for nothing. Even within the devil's trap, he was able to project his power enough to throw several items at Sam's head and whip up a gale that meant Sam had to scream to be heard over it. The holy water Dean was holding boiled in his hand, causing him to drop the bottle with a curse. Crowley watched the ensuing chaos calmly, in a curious little bubble unaffected by Asmodeus's power.
By the time Sam had reached the end of the incantation, his voice was hoarse and he'd been driven to his knees by the wailing wind and incessant flurry of flying objects. But as he uttered the last syllables, the wind suddenly dropped and Asmodeus cried out in fury before falling silent. His meatsuit collapsed to the ground like a deflated balloon. For a few moments all Sam could hear was the harshness of his own breathing.
Crowley made a gesture that made the windows rattle and the front door flew open as Cas burst into the room, panting and wild-eyed. He sought out Sam and then threw himself across the office and hugged Sam tightly, burying his face into Sam's neck.
"Castiel," Crowley said expansively. "So good of you to join us."
"Hey," Sam said gently. "Hey, we're OK."
Cas lifted his head. "I was worried," he rumbled. "A giant sinkhole opened up outside and the car nearly fell in."
"What!" Dean shrieked and ran outside to his Baby.
Sam smoothed back Cas's hair. "Asmodeus was tough but the ritual Crowley gave us worked." He turned to look at the demon king who was smirking at them. "How long will it take Asmodeus to climb out of there?"
"It depends," Crowley admitted. "Without help, centuries. But I can't promise he won't get help. Worst case scenario, six months?"
"Six months!" Sam exclaimed. "That's not very long."
"Unless Lucifer is going to intervene personally, I wouldn't worry," Crowley advised. "It'll be years, honestly." He stood up and sauntered towards the door. "I'll be seeing you," he said and vanished.
Sam knelt down to check the pulse of the man once known as Andrew Davidson. The skin was cold, as though he'd been dead a long time and his body was strangely emaciated.
"He's dead," Sam said in surprise.
"Hosting a Prince of Hell is not something most humans could survive," Cas told him. "Mr Davidson signed his own death warrant."
"I've never seen anyone look like this after a possession," Sam observed. "It's almost like he starved to death."
"In a sense, he did," Cas replied. "Asmodeus would have burned through this man's natural resources very quickly. As soon as he was possessed, his metabolism would have spiked to the point that it would have been impossible to consume enough calories to keep up. Eventually, the body dies and the demon keeps it animated but as soon as it leaves..." He spread his hands to illustrate his point.
Sam shook his head in wonder. "Did Davidson even know what he was signing up for?"
"Probably not," the angel said. "Asmodeus would have promised him anything he wanted, all lies of course, but I wonder what it was Davidson did to attract his attention."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked. "Didn't we establish that he summoned the Prince himself?"
"Yes, but how often do you imagine they answer?" Cas responded. "Asmodeus chose to answer the summons. The question is why."
Sam didn't have an answer for that. "Let's get out of here."
Outside, Dean was leaning against the trunk of the Impala, eyeing the sinkhole Cas had described. The angel hadn't been exaggerating, the hole that had opened up could have swallowed a tractor-trailer, but luckily the car hadn't been close enough to be in any danger. Although Sam didn't remember them parking so far away.
"Cas," Sam said reprovingly. "That hole is nowhere near the car."
"It's isn't now," Cas said laconically. Sam raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought Dean would appreciate me moving the car back."
"He hates it when other people drive his car," Sam warned.
"Who said I drove it?" Cas replied, canting his head at Sam in a way that made all the blood rush away from his head and into his groin.
He swallowed hard. It was so easy to forget that Cas wasn't exactly human. "You… picked it up? Or at least, dragged it out of the way."
"Yes."
"Fuck, that's hot," Sam breathed, his clothes suddenly uncomfortably tight.
Cas looked at him with a puzzled expression. "It is?"
"Trust me," Sam assured him.
"All right, Baby's OK, the demon's gone. Now we just gotta figure out this ghost," Dean said as he ambled over. He peered at Sam. "Are you OK?"
"Yes," Sam croaked, flushing. "What's the plan?"
"I'm gonna tinker with one of the EMF meters, see if I can filter out some of the background. Maybe we can get a fix on whatever Wayne Jeffries is attached to," Dean said.
"OK," Sam replied. "That actually sounds like a plan. I'm gonna hit up a few forums, see if anyone else has encountered a ghost like this before. Let's be sure we know what we're dealing with before we go in guns blazing."
"You take all the fun out of life."
Dean was so intent on adjusting the EMF meter, he didn't notice Crowley's appearance in his room. Crowley watched him, the careful precision of his hands and the way the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips as he concentrated. It was cute, and it made Crowley feel all kinds of things that any demon, let alone the King of Hell, had absolutely no business feeling.
"Do you think that's going to work?" he asked, and Dean almost hit the ceiling when he jumped.
"Dammit Crowley, why'd you have to sneak up on me like that?"
"Because it's funny," Crowley said, snickering.
"What are you doing here anyway? I didn't think you were coming back." Dean put down the tiny screwdriver and picked up the soldering iron. He wasn't looking at Crowley and it was beginning to irritate the demon king.
"Well, I wasn't," Crowley admitted. "Popped down to Hell to see what roadblocks I could place in Ash's way. And, I was curious. Ash hasn't bothered much with humanity in centuries and he could give a flying fig for the machinations of Heaven or Hell. So why did he resurface?"
"Did you get any answers out of him?" Dean asked, looking up with interest. He slipped the soldering iron back into it's holster and blew on the circuit board to cool it.
"Yes and no," Crowley said, scratching at his beard. "Ash claims that he was not working at Lucifer's command. That the creation of a half-demon vessel was entirely his own idea."
"You think he's lying?" Dean asked. He picked up the screwdriver again and started putting the EMF meter case back together.
"That's a given," Crowley told him. "No, what's odd isn't that he lied, it's how he lied."
"I don't know what that means," Dean said grumpily. "Can you just drop the cryptic bullshit and get to the point?"
"I told you before that creating half-demon hybrids was an unmitigated disaster," Crowley said, idly drifting around the room and inspecting Sam's books, Dean's collection of weapons on the bed and anything else that was lying around. "There's no way Lucifer would want a half-demon as a vessel, the idea's mental. But I think the important thing isn't whether or not he's working at Lucifer's direction, rather it's the true purpose of the half-demon that I'm wondering about."
"Why else would Lucifer want one of these things?" Dean prompted. He turned on the EMF meter and it whined softly at him. He rotated it towards Crowley and it screamed. He switched it off.
"That's the part I can't figure out," Crowley said. "Will you stop playing with that thing?"
"You came and interrupted my work," Dean reminded him. He leaned back in his chair, his face thoughtful. "We really need Sam's input on this. He probably understands Lucifer better than anyone."
Crowley's lip curled. "And there's the ley-lines," he said unhappily. "We still don't know exactly why Ash was charging them."
"Sam and Cas will be back soon," Dean said.
"Where are the lovebirds anyway?" Crowley asked, a sly smile creeping across his face.
"There's a retired hunter who lives about a half-hour away, Sam found her on Reddit. Says she met a Native American ghost once who could fire real arrows. Sam thought it was worth following up."
A slow, wicked smile spread across Crowley's face. "So, you're here alone, and with some time to kill."
"No, Crowley," Dean said firmly.
"You don't even know what I was going to suggest."
Dean raised an eyebrow at him. "Would I lose my money if I bet on sex?"
"Yes," the demon said loftily. "I want to show you something."
"OK," Dean agreed. "As long as it isn't a body part."
Crowley closed his eyes and held his arms out on either side of his body, the palms of his hands upturned. He muttered something in a language Dean didn't recognize and a pulsing green light appeared above his head.
"You're demonstrating your usefulness as a flashlight?" Dean snarked.
Crowley's eyes snapped open, glowing red with his power. "Not exactly, darling. What color is the light?"
"Can't you just look up and see it yourself?" Dean asked. But the demon was sweating and his teeth were gritted. What was he up to?
"No," Crowley rasped.
"It's green," Dean told him.
"Green," the demon said in a flat voice. "Is that the best you can do? What kind of green?"
"I don't know," Dean snapped. "Light green. Kinda yellowish. It's not a nice color."
Crowley blew out a breath and the light vanished. He let his arms drop and staggered. Dean couldn't help himself, he jumped to catch the demon before he fell. Crowley collapsed into his arms, his eyes closing.
"Crowley? What the Hell, man?"
"Tired," the King of Hell whispered.
Dean managed to wrestle the almost dead weight of Crowley's body onto the bed. "Someone's been eating their Wheaties," he gasped. "You're heavy."
"Sorry," Crowley said softly. His eyes flickered open for a moment and he reached up with one hand to gently touch Dean's cheek. "I miss you."
Dean jerked away from his touch, and stood up. "I know. But I told you, we can't do this anymore. Why do you have to keep pushing?"
"I love you."
Dean snorted with derision. "You're a demon. You don't love anyone. You can't. If you could, you wouldn't be a demon anymore."
"Not true," Crowley said, sounding as if he was struggling to breathe. "Not that simple."
"Whatever," Dean said. He pulled out his phone to check the time. Where the Hell were Sam and Cas?"
"Dean, promise me…" Dean turned towards him, his brow furrowed. "Promise me you won't…" Whatever it was Crowley wanted Dean to promise not to do was never revealed as he disappeared. Dean stared at the indentation on the bed where the demon king had been. What had that been all about?
