Chapter Nine – Hold Me Down

Death did not seem terribly impressed by the barrage of questions that filled his ears soon after his arrival to the Bunker (or Rowena's blatant staring); if anything, he found them bothersome, as he had intended to answer them before they were asked anyway, but being the somewhat patient being that he was he let the humans speak their piece. He had all the time in the world, and they didn't.

Why did he come now, and not sooner? He was a little bloody busy, thank you very much, and if something hadn't gone screwier than usual with Winchesters involved he wouldn't have come at all. Some people actually try to do their jobs without causing waves, you know. Cue more pointed glares and more casual glances in the opposite direction.

Where had he been all this time? In a non-corporeal state that maybe three or four members of the present company would comprehend, so he was not inclined to explain any further than that. He did mention, however, that he had been to Heaven's gates recently…which were operational once more, by the way.

Is that how he knew about Grace? Obviously. Her soul was not among the departed that were brought there by his subordinates, nor was she locked in the Empty. She didn't belong in Purgatory, he added, and she wasn't here with them. He was none too fond of Hell, and had decided to let Crowley conduct that search on his own with the help of a few reapers he'd sent.

Any other news from Upstairs? Yes, he was told that neither Amara nor Chuck had ordained Michael's mission to restart Armageddon, and that punishment would be dealt out as soon as he was caught. Severe punishment. He had upset the balance of things by murdering her. It wasn't her time to go yet, and even that one loose cog in the gears could throw off the whole machine.

"So, if I hadn't gone to her that night, then she'd still be alive?" Lucifer asked, breaking his pensive silence but maintaining his unreadable expression, "If I didn't try to ask her-"

Gabriel interrupted his brother the instant a certain thought occurred to him, "Did Dad send her to him knowing what might happen?"

"The two of them were meant to meet; that's not what went awry. She wasn't supposed to attack Michael alone. That decision was made far too suddenly to predict, so the assumption up until then was that she was safe." Skeptical glances were passed from the archangels to the Winchesters to the Macleods and back. No one was ever safe within arm's reach of this bunch, why would she have been considered otherwise by anyone who knew them? "Grace had a purpose in all this, but she was no sacrificial lamb. She told one of you what it was, but for some reason you still don't believe her." He turned expectantly to Lucifer, who was smoothing her hair over the edge of the table. There was an edge of sympathy in his voice that no one had been expecting.

The archangel sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets; his eyes never left her and he said nothing. Sam seemed to connect the dots just as Death was preparing to speak again, "She was an apology. Chuck can't give Lucifer what he wants, or won't, so He found somebody else to do it." Sam chimed in, adding bitterly, "Problem is, He went back on this one too."

"Looks li'e His old habits die hard too, Samuel, not just ours." Rowena sighed, and the angels all scoffed in agreement.

"Now I wouldn't lay this entirely on Chuck, boys…" the witch's son reappeared in the doorway, with another demon by the collar of its tailored suit, "Seems someone else may have stolen our bonnie lass away. Isn't that right Milton?"

Milton didn't shrink away from Crowley's grasp, nor did he show any sign of fear when he faced the self-proclaimed King...but when his eyes found Lucifer, he all but fell to the ground as he bowed and cowered, "M-my lord! S-sir I-"

No one moved to stop Lucifer when he stalked across the room and held Milton up by the scruff of his neck, especially since his eyes were glowing crimson and he obviously wasn't worried about getting blood on his clothes. Crowley wisely stepped back, standing behind Gabriel. Death watched and waited, expecting to be sending a demon howling to Hell's depths at any second.

"Where. Is. She?"

Milton shuddered at the burning-cold grip against his skin, "S-sir I-I don't know where the girl i-is…b-but I know who m-might…" He suddenly felt eight more pairs of eyes train on him, and he noticed a demon blade being pulled from a drawer by the older Winchester. Castiel's angel blade – an equally effective weapon against a common demon – peeked from between the seraph's fingers. He suspected there was holy water nearby as well. Of course, all this was small potatoes compared to who was three inches from his face, but it wasn't comforting information to have tugging at the back of his mind. He cleared his throat as best he could (considering the fact that his heart had leapt into it) and tried to explain before Lucifer's minimal patience wore out on him.

"Th-the Harbinger girl-"

"Grace."

"G-Grace had a little brother…but he got sick, i-it was cancer, and nothing from the hospital was helping him. She tried to use her magic to cure him, b-but her parents flipped on her and tried to make her stop…so she made a deal to increase her powers, her healing abilities." The terrified demon explained, "She gained other powers too, but she hasn't used them much until recently."

Lucifer's eyes burned like hot coals as he turned to Crowley, "With you? Or one of your lackeys?" he snarled, dangerously close to crushing him to dust if he uttered the wrong answer.

Crowley didn't dare scoff, he simply shook his head, "No, not me. I'd remember her. I handle big deals like that personally…" he tried not to think of Bobby, he really did, but he'd stumbled across that picture not so long ago…the one he hadn't meant to keep, but in an emotional moment alone post-failed Demon Trials had sent to his new phone. He never went out of his way to look at it, but he'd been searching for something else and couldn't help but see it. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he missed that grouchy little bastard sometimes. He probably would have been a great help here lately too…probably curse them all out for getting into the messes they've been in, but that was part of his charm.

"Well mine have been a little preoccupied for the last ten years, so who was it?"

"T-Teagan Creed."

It was Crowley's turn to be livid, "That piddling little hobgoblin is the one that orchestrated this?!"

Dean squinted at Hell's two rulers and the yes-man dangling between them, and silently wished that for once, things down there weren't so convoluted, "I'm sorry, who?"

"He's a powerful crossroads demon, but his methods are a little more…" the demon hesitated, searching for the right word to describe Creed. He didn't want to sound complimentary, lest Lucifer smite him or Crowley strangle him with his bare hands, but he didn't want to outright insult Creed either. That was just as dangerous.

"Underhanded? Insane?"

"Unorthodox, even for a demon…he doesn't always take souls as part of the deals, and even if he does, it's not always from the one he made the deal with."

"Wait, can they do that?" Sam asked, and all three hellions nodded, "What does he take instead of souls?"

"Favors, usually. Or he makes them sign over someone else's soul, if he's feeling particularly cruel."

"Which was it for her?" Gabriel demanded, "What did he make Grace do? Do you know?"

"What do you want from me? This has to cost something…"

Creed gave her a devil's grin, his crimson eyes gleaming in the sunrise's light, "Hmm…how about this…you name what you think is a fair price for our little deal, aside from the kiss of course. That's mandatory."

"Don't you usually take…souls?"

He nodded, "Whose soul are you gonna give me, Miss Grace? Yours, or…?"

She paused, but only for a split second before she responded.

"It wasn't her soul that she gave him. She sold her father's soul to Creed."

Jaws hit the floor and hearts stuttered over missed beats. That did not seem like something she would have done, even if she was desperate beyond measure; that was a whole other level of betrayal, and her father probably hadn't known about it until it was far too late, "W-why would she…?"

"Her father was the one who made her brother sick…h-he smoked or something…so she figured she'd kill two birds with one stone. Save Thomas and get rid of what was causing him pain…" Milton explained.

"Then…" Cas mused, "why did a hellhound come after her soul when she died?"

"He wanted her too, to be his right-hand. A powerful witch makes a powerful demon." He whimpered darkly, "He wasn't happy when the dog came back without her. He's out looking for her now-" Milton suddenly dropped to the ground.

Lucifer had vanished.

The relief that washed over the lesser demon disappeared almost as quickly as his captor; he thought he would get off scot-free once he revealed the rogue's plan. He didn't realize he'd been thrown to the wolves by one of his own kind until Dean rose from his seat. These people obviously didn't believe in the phrase "don't shoot the messenger"…

Dean threw the knife into the sink with their other neglected dirty dishes while Death soundlessly sent the departed demon's soul to its destination. Everyone was trying not to panic and imagine the kind of warpath Lucifer was marching down; would he go after Creed and raze whatever forces he had to the ground without regard to bystanders? Would he run across Michael on his way there? Was he actively looking for both of them now?

"I know you can hear me." Gabriel called out to his brother via their Radio connection, "Don't do anything stupid. You're not the only one looking…we're right behind you." He didn't get an answer back, which scared him more than any sharp comeback or threat his brother could've dished out. He hoped against all hope that he wasn't too far gone, too far beyond reason to be called down. They were the only two of the four brothers left…

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, then lowered his head into his hands. When it rains out here, it pours, and right now they were looking at a Noah's Ark-worthy downpour. Two archangels running amok and at each other's throats, a new friend gone as fast as she arrived and apparently not as innocent as she had seemed, and a rogue demon that wasn't on their side. Swell, "So, now what? How the hell do we tackle this?"

No one could really offer anything better, at the moment, than "one step at a time".

Death, feeling particularly gracious (mostly perturbed that he'd gotten tangled up with this lot again, though), offered to watch over Grace and to keep tabs on Michael while they searched for Creed (and Lucifer, of course). However, he did not offer to take down the warrior angel unless there was no other option whatsoever. He was a ferryman, not a fighter; the scythe was mostly for show. The Reaper and the girl vanished from sight.

Crowley had already released a horde of demons to look for anything suspicious, so now all he had to do was figure out who could be trusted among them and pass the rest of the information along to them. Easy enough…or perhaps not. Gabriel sent the remnants of the angels to assist them, or in the more likely scenario, to get the job done with minimal backstabbing and/or debauchery. Hopefully.

The Winchesters and Cas started making phone calls to the other hunters to warn them of the additional dangers that had arisen from their failed battle. Descriptions were given of the two runaway angels, and a B.O.L.O was issued for any information on Creed. Mary didn't answer this time either; she did finally respond the first message, but she only texted the boys back instead of calling…but if they worried about that on top of the rest of this, at least one of them would lose it.

"I believe that leaves us with her soul, then? Looking for it, I mean." Rowena spoke up at last, having kept mostly to herself. She wasn't in mourning like the rest of them, but she had been plotting revenge nonetheless; high-end witchcraft and getting even were second nature.

"You sound like you know something we don't." Dean turned to her after shoving his phone into his pocket in frustration. He met Cas' eyes for a brief moment, and his irritation waned slightly.

"I usually do…" she retorted, "I didn't partic'larly like her, but she was powerful…and Miss Gracie's got more motivation to get rid'f Mr. Creed and Michael than we do. S'more personal for her." Rowena leaned against the table where Grace had lain, arms outstretched on either side and a wily grin across her lips.

"Mother, do get to the point." Crowley cleared his throat at the first suggestion of a dramatic monologue. Any other time he would let her run her mouth as she pleased, but now was not the time or place.

"What are we looking for exactly?" Cas asked.

"You'll need to search her house and any other places she might've stayed. If she knew Creed was comin' for her, she'd hide herself somewhere he couldn't get in." Rowena started strutting toward her pile of spellbooks; odds are they would be needing some of these to pry Grace loose of her protection spells if Death didn't come along, "Typical ghost things I expect; flick'ring lights, cold spots…and demon warding, strong demon warding."

The boys all nodded along with her list, and agreed to split into teams to search, one for the house and one for the cabin where Sam and Cas had caught her. Gabriel, Sam, and Rowena would take the mountain retreat. Cas, Dean, and Crowley would head to her house and sneak past any crime scene tape or patrols that were left over.

Goodbyes were said and good luck was wished as Dean's group piled into Baby with their gear and Sam's combed the Bunker for Grace's car keys so they could take Cloud. More silent prayers were sent out, but if you'd looked hard enough at each person, you could've heard them.

"Going to the cabin to look for her, or anything that would be useful. I'll keep you posted when possible. Do the same for us, if you can."

"We could really use your help…I wouldn't be asking if we didn't…please…"

"I-I don't even know if you can hear this…but don't…just…we're trying, alright? Please don't jump the gun and blow the whole operation."

"Hope our little rescue mission doesn't go totally screwy…oh wait! I forgot how you have a sense of humor and all. Guess I had to get it from somewhere.."

Most of the demons that hadn't volunteered to help with Michael had done so for legitimate reasons (more or less); some had stayed behind to keep things running Down Below, others had simply not gotten the memo because they had been elsewhere attending to their own business. Those who did not fall into either category, and some that did, had been rounded up and locked in the throne room with a very irate Devil. Those who were guilty of treason tried to remember who they'd prayed to as humans, and hoped those deities would have some mercy on their twisted souls if they were discovered because they knew he wouldn't.

"I'm only gonna ask once, and if nobody answers I'll smite one of you for every ten minutes that passes until somebody talks…if I can wait that long." He barked, "Where is Creed?"

Five minutes passed in terrified silence.

The sixth through the eighth were full of conflicted muttering.

The ninth almost passed before one of them panicked and blurted out, "He went to her old house! Her parents' house in South Carolina!" the other demons turned in disbelief toward the narc, and then in horror toward their ruler. They all knew that smile, that crooked, toothy sneer. The cold, mirthless laugh was no comfort either, nor were the slow steps he made toward the double-agent.

"Atta boy…" he patted the demon on the shoulder as if he were congratulating him, but they all knew better than that. There was no pride in his eyes, only disgust and contempt, "Thank you all for your cooperation…" he hissed as he made to leave. As soon as he was out of sight, all but the one who spoke up dropped to the floor, dead in a flash of orange light. He was left at the mercy of the mostly-loyal demons, who had instructions to "have some fun, kids."

The Sun was setting when the ambitious young demon strode up the walkway of Grace's childhood home as if he lived there. The quaint little ranch house had long been abandoned by the Harbinger family; Grace's mother had packed up and left years ago, after her husband had been dragged off by the hellhounds and she and her son had been thoroughly traumatized, and no one had bought it after rumors of murder had circulated. Grace herself hadn't set foot in it for going on six years now, but that's exactly why Teagan went there first. It was the last place anyone would expect to find her missing soul, so that's probably where she hid it.

"Oh Gracie! I'm home!" he called out to her in a sing-song tone. Creed definitely sensed something in the house that was supernatural, but what he felt wasn't quite what he'd bargained for. However, the power he felt poking at him didn't feel threatening, so he went about his search as though he were totally alone, "Y'know, you really should have at least warded the place if you didn't want to come with me. I'm gettin' mixed signals here darlin'." He drawled.

The front hall was empty, so was the kitchen, and the living room too, but the signal was getting stronger the further toward the back of the house he went. He was close, he knew it.

But to what, he had no idea.

Neither of the bathrooms held anything of interest, nor did the dining room or laundry room. The two smaller bedrooms held only evidence of trespassing teens and vagrants; empty bottles on the windowsills and scraps of clothes and cigarettes. Teagan's grand tour would end in the master bedroom, the only place left he hadn't checked. She had to be there, or he'd come here for no reason and would have to start from Square 1.

He heard the crash while he was inspecting one of the closets and immediately manifested himself in the same area to prevent any escape by the culprit, but instead of a ball of blue-white light he was met with a bruised and battered boy about the same age as his current vessel that was giving off immense waves of power and who looked just as confused as he did. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, sizing each other up as if they were preparing to duel.

"You lost, pal?"

"Not exactly."

"Me neither."

"I thought you were someone else."

"Likewise. Who you lookin' for?"

"The girl who used to live here, her soul. She obstructed my completion of my mission to rid the world of Lucifer and his followers."

She dared to strike you.

She made you look like a fool, Michael.

She's hiding, you must find her before she gets away.

She can't escape.

Michael squared his shoulders and tilted his chin up haughtily, "I sensed a demon and thought you were Crowley. He was in league with her, and will be-"

Teagan held up his hand, "Say no more…I'll let the mistaken identity slide this once, but it sounds like we're barking up the same tree, Hoss." The archangel tilted his head curiously, so Teagan explained, "You want her punished, I want her working for me, which is basically the same thing if you ask her…but we need to figure out where she flew off to, right?"

He nodded.

"She'd be expecting me, so I won't be able to get to wherever she's stuck her soul, but you, my fine feathered friend, could grab her like you were picking a dandelion…" Creed flashed Michael the same smile he'd given Grace when she'd made her deal, "Whatcha say we lend each other a hand?"

Michael was reluctant at first; he hated dealing with these double-talking abominations, but this one had a point; he was more or less on the same side of the battle for the girl, and it looked like they were both fresh out of allies at the moment, "What exactly will I get for helping you? We can't both have her soul."

Smite him and take her for yourself.

You don't need him Michael.

He will betray you like the rest of them. He's a liability.

"Oh, don't worry, I share my toys." Creed chuckled darkly, "You can have her first, once we find her, but as soon as you're done with whatever punishment you deem fit, I'll take her and use her powers to torment our adversaries. You can have whatever's left of them too, if you want."

"Very well…"

The crossroads demon's eyes flashed crimson and he smiled even wider; it was almost skeletal, "What'd you say your name was again fella?" he reached out to shake hands.

All he got was a deadly glare in return, "I am the archangel, Michael."

He withdrew his hand, but kept grinning as they left together, "Creed. Teagan Creed."