Chapter 9: Lockdown

An unlocked door means that, occasionally, you might get a devil come in, but a locked door means you have thousands of angels just walk by.
- Ian MacKaye

Crowley slipped into the suite's plush bedroom, closing the door behind him. His asset lay curled up near the head of the bed, the comforter wrapped around her like a shroud. In addition to the pillow under her head, she had one against her back and another clutched to her chest. Nestled in like a little dormouse, he thought with a grin; he supposed that made him the Cheshire Cat. He tapped a finger against her temple, and she burrowed further into the covers with a murmur of disapproval.

"Wakey, wakey," he said, slightly louder than necessary. The girl groaned and rolled over, squinting at him.

"What time is it?," she asked groggily.

"A little after midnight," Crowley answered. The girl didn't care for that answer, but he cut off her protest, "We have work to do."

The seer sat up, rubbing her eyes, "Ugh, did you roofie me? Again?"

"Not this time, pet," Crowley smirked, peering at her out of the corner of his eye,"Just an old Scottish remedy for insomnia."

Devishi glared at him, "You know I'm nineteen, right?"

"Twenty, now," Crowley corrected, teasing, "You're a bit young to be lying about your age, darling." Devi frowned – she had lost all reckoning of the date days ago. The eighth must have come and gone without her knowing. "Come on," Crowley snapped his fingers impatiently, "I need a location on the Prophet immediately; we won't get another chance like this."

"What's happened?" the seer asked as she untangled herself from the covers, "I thought you were..." She stopped suddenly as the memory of her vision swelled over her.

Kevin had been in large room in a disused industrial building of some sort. There were sigils on every unbroken pane of glass in the windows, wards on the walls and doors. Rows of chairs filled most of the room, various people seated in them. They were facing a small stage or dais, on which sat a bored-looking, balding man in his fifties wearing a velour tracksuit and reading a newspaper. Kevin was seated between his mother and the tall, long-haired passenger from the car. On a table before the dais was an enormous hammer with Celtic carvings in the head. A man in a pinstriped three-piece suit seemed to be conducting an auction, taking bids from the crowd. A skinny old man in a fedora was holding up a mummified finger that was as long as his entire hand.

"A finger bone from from the frost giant, Ymir," he offered. The man in the pinstripes looked to the stage, noting a shake of the head from the other man, which Pinstripes relayed back to the bidder. The old man's face fell, then brightened, and he held up a brown paper bag, the lower half of which was soaked in blood, "And five-eighths of a virgin." Tracksuit nodded to this, and the hammer was sold.

Kevin looked over as the driver from the car came through the door and dropped into a seat, looking disgruntled.

"Plan C tanked," he said.

"Maybe you should try Plan D, for 'dumb-ass,'" Crowley's voice came from behind, and Kevin turned to look at him. Devi felt a surge of emotion from the Prophet, fear being predominant. The presence of the demon king made his very skin crawl.

"Our next lot: the Word of God," Pinstripes announced, "Capital 'G,' very old, very rare."

"Three billion dollars," Crowley bid, his tone precise and grandiose. He didn't seem to expect any real competition, but a young man from the back row in a "Wiener Hut" uniform spoke up.

"The Mona Lisa," was his offer.

"The real Mona Lisa," Crowley countered, "where she's topless."

"Vatican City," the young man replied, to audible gasps.

"Alaska," Crowley said, beginning to look peeved.

"Palin, and a bridge to nowhere," Pinstripes dismissed, "No thanks."

"Alright, the moon," Crowley raised. He had to be kidding. The driver turned with an expression equal parts confusion and incredulity.

"You're bidding the Moon?!" he asked.

Crowley shrugged, "Yeah, claimed it for Hell. You think a man named 'Buzz' gets to go into space without making a deal?"

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, it seems our reserve price has not been met," Pinstripes stated apologetically, "So, in order to stimulate the bidding, we're going to add an item to this lot – Kevin Tran: Prophet of the Lord." Kevin found himself transported onto stage, shackled to a banister, to the shock of his mother. "Mister Tran is the only person on earth who can read this tablet, which makes them a perfect matching set," Pinstripes continued with a genial grin. "So, do I hear a bid of-" Pinstripes began, only to be cut off by Kevin's mother.

"No, stop! I'll give you whatever you want," she pleaded, "I have a 401k, my house..." Tracksuit chuckled from his armchair.

"Good effort, Ms. Tran," Pinstripes admonished, "but I'm afraid this is a little out of your price range."

Mrs. Tran took a shaky breath, "My soul."

"Mom, don't!" Kevin yelled.

"I bid my soul," his mother repeated, firm now.

"You sure?" the driver asked her, "That's a big move." She nodded determinedly. Tracksuit suddenly seemed interested.

"If it's souls that you're after," Crowley countered, full of confidence, "I can give you a million souls." The driver turned in his seat, pressing the young man from Wiener Hut to bid. The young man shook his head.

"We guard the souls in Heaven," he said firmly, "We don't horse-trade them." So there's a Heaven, too, Devi thought, What does that make him?

"So we have a deal?" Crowley pressed.

"It's not about the quantity, chief," Tracksuit said, "it's about the sacrifice." His gaze shifted to Mrs. Tran, "This little lady's soul is the most valuable thing she has – it's everything. Are you prepared to offer everything, Mr. Crowley?"

Crowley seemed to hesitate a moment. "Fine, you win," he said finally, "I bid my own soul."

Tracksuit let out a wheezy laugh, "Mr. Crowley, you don't have a soul." He turned back to Mrs. Tran, "Congrats sweetheart." Crowley left the room, his face stormy.

Kevin stared at his mother, disconsolate. As Tracksuit's men took him to a back room to wait, his mind was a blur. Memories warred with plans of escape, each more desperate than the last. Clenching his teeth, he pressed his hands to the sides of his head, at though it would force his brain to work better. Suddenly, he stopped and glanced around the room. Something had grabbed his attention, the smallest tug on his subconscious, but he only saw the men who'd had brought him here. An oddly familiar prickle of apprehension ran over him, and recognition struck him like a bolt: it was the feeling of being watched.

He looked up as he was abruptly moved to another room, and saw his companions and his mother, as well as the auctioneer and the host. The tablet lay on the table. The latter was holding out both hands to Kevin's mom, who hesitated a moment before extending her own hand.

"Wait!" the driver leapt forward, grabbing her wrist and pulling back the sleeve to reveal a terrible burn on the inside of her forearm. The woman's eyes flicked blood-red.

"Hello, boys," Crowley's voice slid out of her mouth. She flung both arms to the side, and the men were thrown against opposite walls by some invisible force.

Tracksuit was aghast, "No, you can't... my warding spells..."

"Mrs. Tran" smiled tightly, "Your Girl Friday showed me a few loopholes." Her voice was her own now, but she still spoke with Crowley's clipped pronunciation, "and all it cost me was an island in the South Pacific – I love a bargain." Pinstripes rammed a thick wooden spike straight through his former boss. Crowley pulled the log out from the man's body and threw it at the guard with enough force to impale him. "Can't do all my tricks," Crowley continued, reaching for the tablet, "but I can do enough."

"Get out of her!" Kevin yelled.

"If I had a nickle for every time someone screamed that at me..." Crowley smirked, and headed for the door. The long-haired passenger had hauled himself up by now, and took down Mrs. Tran with a flying tackle. The driver fished a knife out of a box of weapons, and both men moved to stand between the possessed woman and Kevin.

"Gettin' in touch with your feminine side, huh Crowley?" the driver taunted, "Well, come and get him." Mrs. Tran considered the men before "her" for a moment, then abruptly bolted for the door. The driver gave chase, and Kevin tried to follow, but the passenger caught his arm.

"Kevin, don't!" he said, "Let Dean take care of it."

"Sam, move!" Kevin shouted as Pinstripes pulled a gun. The treacherous man fired wildly on Sam, driving him behind an overturned table, before training the gun on Kevin as the Prophet tried to flee the room.

"You know what's better than a private island?" the man with the gun asked, "Two private islands." Well, that's just impractical, Devi thought.

Sam appeared behind him, wielding the hammer from earlier in the auction. The impact shattered Pinstripes head like a melon. Kevin ran out of the room after Dean and his mother. He found them in the lobby, grappling against a pillar. Dean had a blade at the possessed woman's throat. At Kevin's cry, Dean looked back over his shoulder, giving Mrs. Tran the chance to shove him back. Red smoke erupted from her mouth, swirling around the room and under a door. Mrs. Tran slumped against the wall, eyes open, but unseeing. The door opened and Crowley appeared in his usual body, dusting himself off.

"Well, that was exciting," he said, before leaning over to pick up the tablet, which had been dropped in the scuffle. "Good luck closing the gates to Hell," he held up the stone "without this." He looked to where Kevin was crouched near his mother. "Surprising what 'Mommy Dearest' has rattling around in her head," Crowley said smugly, "Wanna know who your real father is?" Kevin looked at his mother in shock, and Crowley grinned, "Scandalous!"

"Crowley!" Dean snarled, cutting him off. Crowley sneered at the man briefly, before turning back to Kevin.

"I know we're not mates, Kevin," he told him, "but one word of advice: run. Run far and run fast. 'Cause the Winchesters, well, they have a habit of using people up, and watching them die bloody."

Kevin looked back down at his mother, still unresponsive, as Crowley casually strolled out of the room. Sam came up the hall, and helped Kevin move his mother back to the auction room. Kevin's storm of emotion had coalesced into a quiet rage. He sat across from her, head bowed, one hand on her knee, before looking at Dean.

"You tried to kill her," he accused. Dean at least seemed rueful, but Kevin cut him off as the older man began to explain. "Shut up! I don't want to hear any more of your crappy speeches" Kevin said tersely, "I just want to talk to my mom, alone." The men withdrew to corridor, and Kevin looked up at his mother. "Mom," he began brokenly, before taking a deep breath, "We have to go. Now." He scribbled a quick note on a piece of notebook paper, and left it on a chair. "It's not safe for us to be with Sam and Dean anymore," Kevin continued, helping the catatonic woman to her feet, "but I promise, I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."

Devi gasped as she fell back into her own body. Crowley was looking back at her, his gaze evaluative.

"What did you see?" he asked.

"The auction," Devi answered, "Kevin's mom bought the tablet, and then..." She looked accusingly at the demon, "And then you possessed her."

Crowley waved a hand dismissively, "Yes, yes, enough about my adventures in transgenderism. What happened after?"

Devi suddenly felt reticent to tell Crowley what she'd seen. Kevin had been in such a shattered state when she had left his mind, and letting Crowley in on him now seemed like a betrayal. Crowley noticed her silence. He walked back to her slowly, eyes narrowing.

"Why the hesitation, darling, hm?" he asked, "something bothering you?"

Devi swallowed hard, "I... um, I'm not sure..." She drew her lower lip between her teeth, avoiding the demon's gaze. He closed the distance between them, peering down into her face.

"Lying to me at this juncture would be extremely unwise," he said softly, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "You've already got one strike against you today," Crowley continued, "Don't test me further."

"He, um... he was upset about his mother," Devi explained, trying to give the minimum amount of information, "and he was angry at the guys with him. He thought that one was going to kill her."

"And?" Crowley pressed, not fooled.

"So, he, uh, decided to take his mom and go," Devi finished lamely.

"By himself?" Crowley specified, "Without those two overgrown muppets?" Devi nodded reluctantly, and Crowley grinned; it wasn't a reassuring sight. "Excellent," he said to himself, "Now we just need to pin him before he skips town. Come on." He gestured for her to follow and she trailed behind him to the sitting room. Crowley pointed to couch, "Sit." Devi complied, and the demon drew a large syringe from his coat-pocket, filled with green fluid.

"I thought we were done with that stuff," Devi said, filling with dread. She hadn't realized how glad she'd been to do without the potion for the last few days, and now, going back on the brew seemed like a terrible prospect.

"We're on a schedule here," Crowley replied tersely, "We don't have time for you to drift around random psyches until you find him." He took her right arm in hand and Devi felt the pull in her shoulder, still tender and swollen, before the flood of sensation swept over her like an oily tide.

Kevin was fiddling with some wires under the steering wheel of a car, trying to get a spark.

"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath. Finally, the engine turned over. Kevin crawled out from under the console, and hurried to his mother, grabbing her arm. "We gotta go, mom," he said, "It's not safe here."

Mrs. Tran seemed dazed, "Shouldn't we wait for the Win-"

"We can't stay with them, mom," Kevin cut her off, leading her to the passenger side, "We're better off on our own." He slid into the driver's seat as his mother tried to understand what was happening.

"When did you get this car?" she asked.

Kevin made an exasperated noise as he popped open the glove box, rifling around for a map, "Okay, we should head..." His voice trailed off, and he took a quick glance around the car. Seeing no-one, he shifted into drive. "I've warded the car, and the hex bags hide us from demons," he said, more to himself than his mom, as if ticking off a mental checklist, "Those won't help with people, so we have to keep moving, stay under the radar." He headed for the freeway, doubling back a few times; his instincts were screaming that he was being followed, but he couldn't see anyone. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain.

As he did so, Devi felt her focus on him slip, and she scrambled to regain it. Kevin gritted his teeth, trying to put aside the intuition, and Devi slipped again. She tried to latch her sight onto the car itself, hoping to regain her hold on the Prophet. "I'm not going back," she heard Kevin whisper fiercely. He was trying to encourage himself, but at his statement, and the accompanying surge of determination, Devi felt herself flung fully from his mind.

"What? What's happened?" Crowley's voice was at her ear. She must have made some sound at being psychically tossed out.

"I don't know, I..." she shook her head, "I can't keep hold. I'm losing him!"

"Do not lose him," Crowley growled.

Devi clung to the car as her only link to the Prophet. She tried settling on his mother's mind instead, but everything was still disrupted and chaotic from her being possessed. Devi tried Kevin's mind again, but encountered what she could only describe as a force pressing against her psyche. She pushed back, letting out an audible groan, and the force intensified. Her focus fractured again as she felt a stabbing pain build behind her eyes; her senses were reverting to her own body in an effort to escape the pressure. She clenched her teeth, struggling, but the harder she fought, the stronger the opposition was. She opened her eyes with a gasp.

"I told you to keep on him," Crowley snarled.

"I tried!" Devi protested, "He, he pushed me out somehow."

Crowley looked suspicious. "I'm giving you another dose," he decided.

"No, don't!" Devi pulled away, "You don't understand, he..."

"No arguments," he snapped, seizing her wrist and jamming home the needle, "You're going to try again." He narrowed his eyes at her. "And this time, you will stay on him," he snarled. The seer struggled to speak as the double portion of the serum hit her, shoving her mind back into the void.