Hostile Takeover

"Sir, Lucifer is up to something."

Michael sighed at the interruption. He had been studying the battlefield map carefully – actually for the last three hours, and he thought he was beginning to see a hole opening up in the front near Kansas that he could exploit. His brother's defenses had been uncharacteristically sloppy and uncoordinated in the last few days.

Of course he was 'up to something'.

"When is he not, Uriel?" Michael replied, turning a cool gaze on the Angel that had entered the War Room.

Uriel swallowed hard and straightened up, his face not betraying an ounce of emotion. Good...good soldier, Michael thought absently, studying him. He let a not insignificant amount of time pass before answering, silently conveying that he was less than amused at being disturbed like this.

"Well?" he asked at last, the annoyance not diminishing in his tone. "Are you planning on giving me any details about it, or is your random outburst supposed to suffice?"

Uriel blinked and Michael sighed inwardly, waiting for him to respond. It wasn't uncommon for a certain degree of respect – and even awe – to come over his soldiers, even high-ranking generals like Uriel - when they met with him in person. After all, Michael was the new God, and while he took a much more active role in interacting with his Angels than his Father ever had, he still demanded a sense of propriety and even danger for being in his presence. So, Michael waited patiently.

Uriel visibly gathered himself in the ensuing silence.

"My Lord," he finally began speaking, his baritone carrying in the marble-walled room. "Reports are that he has left Hell itself. He has not been seen or heard from in at least a day or two, on Earth or anywhere near his Throne."

Michael frowned, considering. This actually was unusual - and potentially very useful – news.

"These reports are accurate?"

Uriel nodded. "One-hundred-percent, my Lord. The reports were delivered from our most trusted operatives."

Michael's felt a sour taste in his mouth. 'Trusted operatives' still meant Demons. Demons that his brother had crafted from the stuff of the Darkness itself – soulless creatures of pure evil, mimicking and befouling his Father's Creation. Still, they were, by their very nature, especially corruptible, therefore malleable. They had been bought and payed for, and the reports were, as Uriel insisted, very likely highly accurate.

He leaned over the large oval table that dominated the War Room, considering.

"That would mean that Hell itself is chiefly unguarded," he murmured, musing. He looked up at Uriel.

"While the Legions of his Demons are still formidable, my Lord, there has never been an opportunity like this."

Michael felt a smile creeping over his face.

"Nor is there likely to ever be another." He stood up from the table and walked over to Uriel, clapping a hand to his soldier. "It doesn't matter where my brother has gone, or what advantage he thinks to gain from it. If we remove his seat of power, he will be crippled – summon the Host, Uriel."

Uriel met his eyes, smiling. "Which units, my Lord?"

"All of them, of course."

"Did he see that?" Crowley whispered to his mother, glancing nervously over at Hastur, who was studying the wall of crystals, staring deeply at the myriad resolving time-lines within. He was still focused in the area around the time-line that he had selected and shown them – the one where the Darkness had been released. The creature was mostly smiling, and humming, quietly to itself and paying them no attention, letting the tracking spell run it's course. Crowley shuddered. Creepy bugger.

No matter, his mother had scratched out the loci of her tracking spell, replacing the symbol for the Angel Castiel with that of the Old One Hastur. The spell was activating fully again, re-aligning with it's new target, the runes glowing red, the energy at it's center quivering and shaking.

Rowena shot a quick glance up at Crowley and shook her head 'no' quickly. Hastur had not noticed, he was simply waiting for the spell to find any trace of Castiel to fail. Then they would have no choice but to help it achieve it's desired goal.

Trapped.

Crowley hated being trapped. It was wholly unacceptable to be out of options. There was always a way out. Always.

With Atropos' and Lucifer's help, he had had the realization that Hastur himself had been there at the time of Castiel's death – the point where the paradox had occurred, shifting the time-line to the one that existed now. While Castiel had fundamentally disappeared from every point in time, due to the catastrophic paradox that he had created, Hastur had not. If he could locate exactly where the beast had 'Kurt Vonnegut-ed' itself into the time-line, he could find the event in question...and then...

Crowley frowned. What exactly did happen then? He felt himself floundering a little as he suddenly realized that he hadn't actually thought that far ahead. And all that after Lucifer had just lectured him on thinking a few moves ahead...

He stood up from his mother's side and walked over to Atropos, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow as he approached.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

Crowley smiled in return. "Nothing so expensive as that, love. You'd be doing me a favor, actually."

Atropos cocked her head to the side. "What's your concern, Crowley?"

Crowley looked briefly over his shoulder at Hastur, making sure he was far enough away before speaking.

"Supposing all this works," he said, raising his eyebrows in emphasis. "What do we do then? If you try to activate a time-line with that golden thread trick of yours, won't he be able to see it as well?"

Atropos nodded and smiled wickedly. "Yes. But he won't be able to do anything about it."

"How so?"

"The time-line flows, he's drawn into it's current as well. No being is powerful enough to resist that." She nodded discreetly in Lucifer's direction, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watching Rowena lazily with his eyes half-lidded, occasionally looking up at the floating energy in the center of the spell form, waiting for it to begin moving. "Some beings, very few of them, can observe multiple dimensions, if they concentrate hard enough. If you want to know what would happen next, I would ask him."

"You can't just tell me yourself? Aren't you the keeper of all of this information?"

Atropos smiled and shook her head. "I'm a firefighter, Crowley. I just make sure things get put back on track if they're thrown too far off. Precognition is not a gift granted to me."

"So I have to ask Lucifer then, is what you're telling me?"

"'Fraid so."

"Isn't Hastur just as powerful as him?"

Atropos shook her head. "It works differently. It gets what it wants from destruction. It can't see things that will unfold or be created, only it's end goal." She scratched at her head with her pen. "Still very powerful, though, if you think about it. Just by destroying various time-lines and manipulating events, it has managed to maneuver us all here to help it achieve it's goal. Singularly effective."

Crowley frowned. "Right up until the point that we turn the table on it...to coin a horribly overused phrase." He looked back to Lucifer. "So, from what you're saying, Lucifer might be able to tell me what will happen in the new time-line once you activate it? He's attuned to the power of creation?"

Atropos smiled at him. "Boils the old noodle, doesn't it? But, yes, actually. He is quite attuned to it. God made him from some of it's core elements."

"Huh", Crowley grunted in acknowledgment. "You would think he'd be more in tune with the Darkness."

Atropos shook her head. "Nope. Lucifer just has a bit too much of a dash of free will thrown in the mix is all."

"Surely you're not saying that that's a bad thing, are you?"

"It can be for anyone, if they don't know how to deal with it. Lucifer is the worst case scenario. He uses free will as a weapon."

Crowley looked at her questioningly. "As a weapon against what?"

Atropos shrugged. "His family. His Father. Himself. Everything. He wields it like a shield against who he truly is and who he was created to be- the first among Angels. God's favorite son."

Crowley nodded slowly, considering. "Well then, if you put it that way, what in the world could he have done differently, pressure like that?" he asked rhetorically. He walked away from Atropos towards Lucifer.

Atropos studied them both for a moment before sighing and looking back at her clipboard.

"He could try growing up for a change," she murmured to herself, scanning the sheet and looking back up to the spell, which had begun to move...

The Host of Angels slammed through Hell like a hot knife. The leaderless hordes tried to put up a token resistance, but without the power of Lucifer backing them, they crumbled before Michael's relentless onslaught. It took less than an hour of fighting before he had smashed open the gates of the Throne Room itself, and was now facing the captured Dukes and Knights of Hell, who had been bound and arranged before him on their knees, their faces turned up to him in defiance and fury and mostly, Michael noted with a degree of satisfaction, fear. Michael returned their looks with a sneer of his own, pivoting on his metal boot, the spur renting the floor as he paced around the room.

"So let me get this straight," he intoned, loud enough for the various denizens of the Court of Hell to hear him. "None of you are willing...or able...to tell me where he is?" He clasped his hands in front of him and turned back to the Lords of Hell, eyes burning. "Which is it? Or should I just start burning you all away?"

A couple of them flinched back. One of them, a Duke, named Ennui, Michael thought, licked his fat lips and spoke.

"He...he just left. He slaughtered his new wife Ruby, and fled the Throne Room in the company of a Demon...a clerk or something from the Crossroad Demons office pool...name of Crowley..."

Michael walked forward slowly and menacingly until he stood in front of Ennui, towering over him.

"That name is supposed to mean something to me?", he growled.

Sweat poured off of Ennui's forehead. "N...no...that name doesn't mean anything to anyone...that's the whole point..."

Michael's sword was unsheathed and swung in a semi-circular arch through Ennui's head before he could say another word. There was rush of energy and an implosion of dark smoke. The air cracked loudly as the Demon's lifeless body slipped to the floor, it's burned-out eyes sockets staring blindly up at his companions, who cringed back from the smoking corpse.

"So," he said slowly. "Who can tell me something about this office worker Crowley?"

The Dukes and Knights looked down at the floor blankly, panic setting in on some of their faces.

"No one?" Michael said into the silence, sighing. "Pity." He strode to the end of the row of nobles and held his sword over his shoulder. "Suppose I should just start on this end, then. Work my way down."

"Lilith," a woman's voice called out from somewhere behind him. Micheal spun, glaring into the captives.

"What was that?" he shouted, moving over to them. A couple of the soldier Angels guarding the group stepped out of his way as he pushed into the group, looking for the speaker. The Demons parted more than willingly, leaving a clear circle, in which stood a rather nervous Demon, staring at the floor and wringing her hands. Michael came to a halt in front of her. "And who are you?"

"Meg," the Demon barely whispered. "I also work, well worked, in Contracts...I was...I was working for Ruby, before Lucifer killed her..."

Michael cocked his head. "Doing what?"

Meg looked halfway up, not meeting his eyes. "Trying to kill Crowley, actually."

Michael frowned in confusion. "Kill him? What for?"

Meg shrugged. "Some research he was doing. Something that was dangerous to Ruby...something that Lilith knew more about. You...you'll have to talk to her..."

Michael glared at her for a few seconds before leaning close. "Know this, Demon," he hissed. "If you're lying to me..."

Meg looked up, meeting his eyes. "Oh no...look, I get it O-Vengeful-One. But I don't feel like getting Ginsu-ed right this second, OK? So the faster you're out of here, the better for everyone." She looked back down at the floor. Michael saw that she was trying to suppress a smile.

Michael clenched his jaw, annoyed. He spun on his heel and pointed at one of his Angels. "You, bring her along," he snarled, looking back over his shoulder at Meg. "You. You take us to Lilith."

Meg nodded, looking around at her fellow captives, who were watching her with wide eyes full of hatred now. She shrugged. "What?" she exclaimed nonchalantly, striding out of the group accompanied by her Angel guard. "I'm backing the winning horse is all...enjoy what comes next..." she said, winking and waving over her shoulder.

As they left the throne room, Michael paused at the door, putting a hand on Uriel's shoulder, who was stationed there to watch, and to keep any Demons from escaping.

"Kill them all," Michael whispered to him, nodding back into the room. He glanced at Meg, who was smiling to herself, looking at the floor. He shook his head in disgust. Demons. They would sell their own mothers to save their own hide.

Uriel smiled back at Michael, drawing his sword and moving into the room with his elite squadron of Angels behind him.

The sounds of the horrific slaughter followed them on their way out.

"It's working," Lucifer whispered to Crowley, eyes glittering, watching the tracking spell intensely. The light in the center had moved out of the form and was now moving towards the wall. Hastur had noticed as well, and was watching it move along the wall, the surprise evident in his face.

Crowley took note of that and whispered back confidentially to Lucifer. "When that thing gets there, I need you to tell me what it finds there."

Lucifer frowned. "Whatever for?"

"Because Atropos told me you're the only one around here with the Mojo to see what happens next."

Lucifer turned towards him, a faux smile on his face. "Oh Crowley, are you trying to skip to the end of the book?"

Crowley smiled humorously back at him. "Forgive a fellow if he wants to know if he's about to get blinked out of existence is all."

Lucifer nodded. "No, I get it." He began to follow the tracking spell's light along the wall, peering into the crystals that it passed. He sighed. "Look, Crowley, you're still going to be you, OK? No matter what dimension that becomes manifest. Think of it like a universal thread." The light began to shrink and slow down, circling an area in tighter and tighter rings, zeroing in on a specific crystal. Lucifer looked back to Crowley. "If it's any comfort at all, you won't notice a thing."

"I suppose that's something," Crowley muttered. "Still leaves a sick feeling in my stomach though." He looked back at Hastur, who was hurrying to catch up, and then back at Lucifer. "How is it for you?"

Lucifer frowned. "What do you mean?"

Crowley shrugged, "Something Attie told me. Mentioned that you could perceive multiple dimensions." He glanced at Lucifer. "Gotta be a burden, that."

Lucifer smiled. "Just because I can see them doesn't mean that I have to pay attention to them. You'd be surprised how many sentient beings adapt that very same ideal."

"What's this?" Hastur asked in an angered hiss. "You can't have possibly found the Angel. He erased himself completely." He peered deeply at the crystal the tracking spell had led them to, eyes squinting. "I see...it is the ship escaping Atlantis...a figure...he is hidden to me... he is fighting...an Archangel..." he straightened up, glaring at Crowley, then at Lucifer. "What trick is this? There is no Castiel here." He glanced back at Rowena, who simply smiled back at him from her seated position by the spell's origin and gave him a friendly wave. Hastur's frown deepened. Atropos had walked over and joined them.

"You are correct, Old One," she said calmly, smiling. "There is no Castiel. There can't be. Not yet."

Hastur cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

Atropos shook her head slowly. "You and your Masters...this realm was never your purview. You should have never interfered here."

Hastur smiled evilly. "Is that a threat, little Norn?" He moved threateningly closer. "We are trapped by your God and His damnable 'Plan'. What would you have us do? We took whatever action was available to us. And the time-line...it is the stuff of the Universe itself. This is hardly your exclusive domain."

Atropos smiled back at Hastur, just as evilly. "I'll remember that you said that," she said evenly. She then bent towards the crystal and extracted the thread, the light forming into a golden thread.

Hastur grabbed her wrist and held it firmly. She whipped her head towards him.

"What is it you're intending to do here, Norn?"

"I'm putting things right," she answered evenly, her jaw clenched. Crowley noticed that red welts were appearing in her arm where Hastur was holding it, but Atropos showed no signs of pain.

"How?" Hastur hissed menacingly, his grip tightening. Crowley winced as he heard bones actually grinding in her arm. Atropos let out a small gasp, making Crowley look at Lucifer for help. Lucifer met his eyes, and gave him a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

"Let me go," growled Atropos.

Hastur's smile widened. "Not until you tell me what trick you're trying to pull over on me."

"It's simple...the Angel Castiel created a paradox, his future self destroying a past version of himself in the far-flung past, wiping out all of his deeds and actions after that point, including his own action of murdering himself. Hence: paradox."

"Obvious."

Atropos nodded. "So, the point of the paradox has to be repaired."

Hastur leaned closer. "That's impossible. How?"

Atropos' eyes flicked over Hastur's shoulder and then she smiled.

"Simple, by creating another one in the same place. One less strenuous to the time-line."

Hastur's eyes burned with fury. "Again I ask you, how?!"

Tears welled up in Atropos' eyes as she fought off the pain. She had not dropped the golden thread, however, stubbornly refusing to let it go. "Sacrifice," she gasped, "One life related and also equally responsible for the paradox traded for another - an even trade. As I just explained, one resulting in events being less strenuous to the time-line."

Hastur frowned, peering at the thread. "But who...?" His eyes suddenly widened in understanding. Then he threw back his head and laughed, a hollow, echoing, evil sound. "Oh, oh well played, Atropos." He did not release her arm, instead dragging her away from the wall. "Well played. But if you think for a second that I will allow you to activate that thread..."

"Who said...anything about you...getting a say in this...at all?", Atropos gasped, also laughing hysterically in a mixture of contempt and pain.

"What, do you think a witch, a Crossroads Demon and a half-powered Fallen Angel are strong enough to stop me?", Hastur sneered, hauling her to her feet and reaching for her hand. "Give me that damned thread!"

Atropos stopped struggling and met Hastur's eyes defiantly. He hesitated.

"No, they don't have the power to stop you. But with him on board..." Her eyes flicked once again over Hastur's shoulder. Hastur turned slowly away from her, following her gaze.

"...but...that's...impossible...", he whispered, the fear audible in every syllable.

Michael strode into Lilith's office, a group of elite Angels and Meg in tow. The Demon Lilith stood slowly and regarded him, arms crossed.

"Did you have an appointment?" she asked smoothly, tapping a finger against her arm.

"Cute," Michael snarled, grabbing Meg and throwing her bodily to the floor at Lilith's feet. "Crowley. What was he researching and where was he last seen?"

Lilith smiled. "I see. And...what can you offer me in return for such...valuable information?"

Without a word, Michael swiftly walked forward and grabbed Lilith by the neck, swinging her around and slamming her up against the drink cabinet on the wall. Glasses fell all around them and shattered into splinters.

"Let's start with your life, Demon," Michael said in a whisper.

"Actually," Lilith answered, her voice choked off, "That's an excellent starting point in this negotiation...just what I had in mind..."

Frowning, Micheal released her and she stumbled against the cabinet, righting herself, glass shards crunching under her heels. He folded his arms and stared at her.

"As I was saying..." Lilith continued. "My life, your word, now," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Let me live in peace and out of prison, unharmed, etc., etc. and I'll tell you everything that you want to know."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that I can't make you tell me anyway?"

Lilith gave him a half-smile in return. "Oh, I'm sure you'd love to try. But truth is, you don't have the time for it. Consider that warning...free advice."

"What do you mean?"

Lilith cocked her head. "You know, for the new 'God' and all, you can be a bit thick..."

Michael growled menacingly and took a step towards her. Lilith threw up her hands in a warding gesture.

"OK, ok, my mistake...sorry."

Michael stopped, still glaring at Lilith.

"It's just that time is a rather important factor in our negotiation, especially in your case."

"Convenient for you," Michael replied coldly.

"It is, isn't it?", Lilith replied immediately, smiling triumphantly. "So, what'll it be?"

Michael grunted, considering. Finally, he turned his head to the side and spat.

"Fine," he answered, not looking at her. "It's a deal. You'll be spared." He turned towards her. "Now, where's Crowley and my brother?"

Lilith smiled and shook her head. "Oh no you don't."

Micheal's brow darkened again in anger. "What are you talking about?"

Lilith walked back to her desk, brushing away broken glass from her path with her foot. "Do you think that I've been in charge of the Office of Crossroad-Demons Contracts for all of these years without learning a thing or two?" She reached into her desk and pulled out a contract. "It's gotta be in writing." She pause, holding up the contract before slapping it down on the desk. "Or nothing at all."

"You don't trust me?", Michael snarled.

"Of course I don't," Lilith answered, not blinking. "I'm not an idiot."

Michael watched her in stunned silence and then stormed over to the desk, grabbing a pen off of her desktop. He scanned the document. "Fine...wait..." he said, frowning and looking up at her. "We...aren't going to have to kiss to seal this, are we?", he said, disgust filling his voice.

"As...tempting as that prospect might be, I'll think we'll just skip that for now," Lilith answered, not bothering to hide her snark. "Just sign it."

Micheal scrawled his name across the paper and Lilith took it, examined the signature, rolled it up and tucked it neatly into her jacket.

"Now...my brother Lucifer...", Michael half whispered, furious.

"My pleasure..." Lilith cooed, leaning closer.

Hastur backed away in a full panic, moving his free hand to Atropos' throat. "Stay back, or I'll snap her neck!"

Lucifer tilted his head, moving forward. "Ridiculous. Even if you could kill Fate, which I don't think that you can, you still need her to escape here."

Hastur licked his lips, eyes darting back and forth.

"Why brother, I think he's cornered..." the Angel to Lucifer's right said, moving forward, sword awash in golden light.

"Nice of you to show up," Lucifer replied. "Took you long enough."

"Paperwork", Michael replied, moving closer to the Old One, his hazel-green eyes flashing. "Hastur, is it? I haven't killed one of your kind in a very long time..."

Hastur made another desperate, lunging grab for the thread in Atropos' hand. She used his momentum to twist away, breaking his grip, her hand immediately flying to her injured arm and cradling it and the golden thread that she held against her body.

The two Archangels rushed the last few feet towards the Old One, each one crashing bodily into it's shoulders. They pushed it backwards and pinned against the wall of crystals. It howled in rage and thrashed at them, it's outer appearance shifting from the youthful southern man back into a mass of writhing, fanged creatures. The Angels grunted in effort, trying to hold it down.

"Atropos, now!"; Lucifer yelled, "I don't know how long we can hold him!"

Atropos let out another gasp of pain as she pulled out her crushed arm and held the thread out in front of her eyes. The golden light reflected in them and then the thread solidified. She smiled in satisfaction and tucked the thread carefully into the clipboard.

"See you on the other side," she said, smiling at Hastur. The Old One stared back at her in open horror as their surroundings began to fade...the wall of crystals, Rowena holding the Book of the Damned, Crowley staring in fascination, the two Archangels struggling to hold back the Old One...

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!", screamed the Old One in Joshua's body, the air itself shaking with fury, as it flung itself desperately at Castiel, trying to stop him.

The Blade plunged towards Castiel's past form, attempting to destroy the Angel utterly.

Joshua noticed a flicker of motion to his side, and gaped in surprise as he saw the figure of a blond woman wearing a business suit and glasses holding a clipboard appear out of thin air right next to him.

She reached out her hand...

….and shoved him down in front of Castiel's Blade.

The Blade plunged into Joshua's heart, ripping through the human vessel. Hastur, the Old One possessing him, shuddered and screamed in agony as the Blade's energies ripped it apart. The woman leaned over Joshua/Hastur's writing form and whispered to it.

"I warned you, Old One. Time is my domain. You should have never interfered."

Joshua's eyes widened in shock. Castiel fell back, confused, as the woman wrapped up his past form and with a wink in his direction and a sad smile, disappeared with it into nothingness.

Castiel felt a tugging sensation as something began to drag him back from this time to the present...

Time stopped.

Creation itself...

….shuddered.

In relief.

Crowley watched the Big Board for a minute longer, then sighed and stood up.

He headed for the door when he heard a thump behind him.

He looked over his shoulder at the steaming, crumpled form of an Angel in a beige trenchcoat curled up on the floor. The Angel let out a slow moan of pain.

"Didn't work, Castiel?" Crowley asked.

"No," Castiel answered weakly. "There was...interference..."

"Interference?", Crowley asked, moving over and helping Castiel into a chair. "From what?"

"From whom," Castiel grunted, holding his head in both hands. "Someone saved my past self, killed Joshua instead."

Crowley frowned. "That's bloody weird...I could have sworn that I'd just done that myself..."

"Huh?"

"Never mind, you'll find out soon enough," Crowley grunted. "So, who was it that interfered?"

"Fate," Castiel answered, rubbing his forehead. "She showed up and shoved him in front of my Blade."

"Whoa," Crowley answered, eyebrows raising. "So...that means..."

"That means we can't stop Purgatory from being opened," Castiel replied weakly. "It's too fixed in the time-line if Fate herself had to interfere."

"But if Joshua died back then..." Crowley began.

Castiel shook his head. "No. He sent himself back in time from the future and assumed the role of the Emperor of Atlantis. Everything that he had accomplished before his death, future or not, still occurred."

"Castiel?"

"Yes?"

"Headache," Crowley complained, pouring himself another glass of Scotch.

"In any case," Castiel answered, nonplussed, "We still have to worry about the Portal to Purgatory being opened and...what in the hell is that?!"

"Hm?" Crowley asked, peering over the rim of his glass. Castiel was staring at the Big Board, standing up slowly and scanning the mushroom cloud.

"Oh, that," Crowley answered smiling and setting down his glass. "That, my friend is what happens when all of this Supernatural mumbo-jumbo meets a 200-kiloton Russian nuclear warhead."

"You did this?" Castiel asked, turning to Crowley, mouth agape.

"You're welcome," Crowley grunted. "Two birds with one stone, actually. Our Demon and Angel friends were standing there when it went off. Joshua as well. Well, this time period's version of him anyway."

Castiel shook his head. "That won't stop them..."

"No, but I bet it hurt like hell," Crowley grimaced in satisfaction. "And besides, that gate to Purgatory? Anything trying to come through there now is going to glow in the dark for the rest of it's life." He cocked his head to the side, considering. "A distinct disadvantage when hunting prey at night, now that you think about it."

Castiel continued shaking his head, but a small smile began to appear on his face. "I won't even ask where you got that...but still, that should suffice in keeping things from moving to and from Purgatory for awhile. The radiation alone will kill anything approaching it."

"Oh stop it with the oozing praise, Castiel, before I get all misty-eyed," Crowley grunted, clicking off the Big Board. "C'mon, let's get out of here, see if we can round up any of those Apostles of theirs while they're incapacitated..."

The intercom on the conference table flashed red, interrupting him.

"Yes, Justin?", he asked, irritated. He poured himself another shot of whiskey and downed it quickly, watching once more in satisfaction as the mushroom cloud continued to settle on the Big Board. Castiel was watching as well.

"Sir, that search and rescue project that you told me to keep running?" Justin's voice asked from the other end. Crowley spun back towards the intercom, picking up the receiver from the device.

"Tell me that you've found them," Crowley whispered in sudden anticipation.

"Yes sir," Justin's voice answered, triumphant. ""We've found them. We've found the Winchesters."