"And what, pray tell, could possibly have been plan "A"?"

Crowley crossed his arms conversationally over his chest and took a deep inhale, becoming comfortable with himself as Dean, Sam, Kate, Kevin and a woman I placed to be his mother all turned and visibly deterred by his appearance. Deterred: Verb (used with an object) To discourage or restrain from acting or proceeding.
"Bring the prophet to the most dangerous place on earth, memorize the tablet, and then va-moose?"
He tilted his chin to indicate Sam and I think I was supposed to smile or acknowledge his joke. I'd started to get tired of his sense of humour though. My brother had never really had any so there was never any reason to pretend.
"Hello, boys."
He smirked at all of them and Kevin turned to see me standing behind Crowley and I could see the snap of Channing's neck sharp in his eyes and the muscle tightening in his jaw. I smiled then to let him know I knew what he was thinking, that I remembered it too.

"Crowley."
Kate said his name coldly, biting the introduction between her teeth and she almost seemed to swell in her anger though from her original size as a starting point it was not a great increase.

"Kevin!"
Crowley acknowledged him with open arms and a smile and he took his eyes away from mine, fist tightening at his side as I could see he was imaginin it around my throat. It won't kill me, I wanted to warn him. Don't tempt me and try.
"What a pleasure to see you. Sorry about your little play-date."
He sauntered over to him, playing over the word "play mate" like he couldn't find a proper title for it and had to think on it. I picked up that I was supposed to follow him and hurried to catch up, stopping just short of running into his back.
"Her name?"
He puzzled over it for a moment.
"Channing."
He turned to glare at me and I stepped back from correcting myself. Not Channing. No. The demon had been gone. I had killed the girl.
"Well, if you're gonna make an omelette sometimes you have to break some spines. And who is this lovely young thing?"
He switched topic without warning, turning his attention to the small woman beside him who even I towered over. Her face was pinched into an angry expression and even from her height she meeting his attention.
"Must be your sister."
With an angry grunt she snapped her hand up into his face and he fell back with a gasp. A laugh choked its way up into my throat and I swallowed as he turned to look over at me, fingers to his jaw and sensing that he wanted me to react. To defend him and retaliate but I couldn't make myself move. I would have admired her for it if it hadn't been stupid. Punishment was not only in my hands.
"Stay away from my son."
Her voice was hard but unpractised. She wasn't used to saying hateful things. Being in the circumstances to command them. I blinked as she straightened, taking a breath and stepping back like she had said her piece and was ready and able to handle it over to the bigger players.

"Charming."
He wiped the sting from his jaw.
"Defiling her corpse has just made number one on my to do list."
He turned to look over his shoulder at me – his secretary, his body guard.
"Make a note of it."
I nodded. Dean made a dangerous step forward.
"Unh, unh unh. Don't mind a little love tap, but anything more and our mookie pals here may just throw you out, and that would be a shame."
He grinned; proud that he had caught them but the pride coming off smug so I was somewhat surprised they hadn't anyway.
"He's right, Dean. It's not worth it."
Sam warned as he pulled his brother back, mumbling out of the corner of his lips like it was a secret we weren't supposed to hear.
"Listen to moose, squirrel."
Crowley taunted, looking back as the door opened and an older man walked in with a red exercise suit. He walked through the crowd that parted on either side of him, another man quickly falling into line behind him and looking sharply from side to side.
"Ah, here comes our host."

Crowley acknowledged, the crowd falling into single file after him and chattering back and forth about everything and nothing at the same time. Crowley whistled, chirping like he was calling a dog before he snapped his fingers back at me. I froze – what? – but then made an effort to saunter after him. Let them see that I was in on the joke. Let them see that we both find it funny.

I slid into the seat next to Crowley, one or two of the audience glancing back with fear and approval that he himself noticed and took with him in pride. I tucked my hands clasped between my knees before I straightened and then leaned back. The Winchesters etc. had filed into the seats in front of us and I stretched my legs out on the back of Kate's chair so my boots kicked her in the back of the head. She looked back to glare at me before rolling her eyes and purposefully sitting forward. I smiled, that arrogance in me that I had nursed for so long and had been so recently cowed by threats and promises. I am not gone – I am dormant. To bide (one's time) idiom: to wait for further developments.
"Ladies, gentlemen and … other."
The host greeted us, arms wide as he took in the scattered crowd and looking around at the defects – yellow eyes or scaly hands or a down turned head to hide something similar. His eyes didn't stop on me but swept over instead as if I wasn't enough to hold his interest. One of the ladies. A human. Ordinary.
"The first name in magical and alchemical esoterica …"
He continued with flourish, pacing the stage with grand gestures of his hands and self-importance with every turn he made with a cane in his left hand. His left, my right. Then his left and my left.
"Don't know why you're so keen on that hunk of dirt."
It was like Crowley was whispering but loud enough that they could hear. Arms politely folded and looking forward, he was the epitome of a perfect audience. I was the embarrassment sitting beside him, the wolf in sheep's skin with the etiquette of one.

"Can't take care of all my black-eyed boys Samantha."

He said it with the full assurance of someone who knew it wasn't an empty threat. That he had the weight to see it through and that his audience knew it as well. I replayed the words; his tone of voice and the confidence like a fine thread holding him taut. I knew those words. I'd said those words. But then I'd said them differently. I'd said them with the victims blood already on my lips.
"Yeah, well we'll see."
Sam turned to deliver the half hearted retaliation, the chuckle at the end of his words if only to fill the silence that would otherwise be heavy with doubt and that little voice that if I'd grown wary of whispering negative truths in the back of my head.

Crowley nudged me and I jerked upright causing my heels to drag on the back of Kate's chair and almost make it tip.
"We have it in the bag."
He leaned close to whisper it to me, chin to my shoulder and an intimacy that made me sit taller in my seat. We. Not me, not I. But we.

"The next item up for bid. The hammer of Thor!"
An eager murmur ran through the audience as necks craned and various gentlemen, ladies and other took turns standing before turning to their neighbour. What did I know of Thor? A God, Norse, a Legend, Comic Series and recent film from the Marvel franchise …

"A finger bone from the first giant …"
The voice went quiet – weedy as it was and I leaned forward to hear better, curiosity peaked by something I didn't know.
"Uh … the bone and uh 5/8 of a virgin."

The man stood, barely taller then the first few rows but more visible the bloody paper bag he held in his hand with the bottom sagged with the weight of what was inside it.
"Sold."
The host agreed and the small man made his way to the front for his purchase. I leaned back – disappointed that he hadn't renamed the first item and had continued instead with a second.

"Maybe you should try plan "D" for dumbass."
Crowley suggested and I looked over to see his attention returned to the Winchesters and that same smirk he always offered them when pleased things weren't going well. Dean glanced over his shoulder to glare at him before uneasily looking forward again. Kate reached over to rest her hand on his back in attempted comfort but I could feel how half hearted it was. How dangerously onto defeated.
"Our next lot, the Word of God, Capital G. Very old. Very rare."
He lifted something – something of stone and flat I could remember a hundred pictures I had seen. A hundred stones just like it that I had held in my hands and tracing the words of languages I didn't know but was desperate to learn.

"3 Billion."
Crowley stood, hands folded in his jacket and smug as he surveyed the audience with the certainty that he had made the highest bid. Dean, Sam and Kate chorused their answer by murmuring "whoa" under their breaths.
"The "Mona Lisa."
I turned to follow the voice behind me – a pubescent boy with red and white striped uniform but something old in his eyes that told me that like me he was hiding in human skin.

"The real "Mona Lisa" where she's topless."
Crowley countered, turning back to the front and a tic in his jaw that this wasn't going the way he planned.
"Vatican City."
The boy tried again.
"Alaska."
Crowley pondered for a moment before he answering, weighing what he was willing to give and what hand he wanted to hide.
"Palin and a bridge to nowhere? No, thanks."
The host shook his head, amused but not intrigued as he waited for better offers.

"All right. The moon."
Crowley gave it with a sigh and even I blinked, unsettled by how easily he gave it.
"You're bidding the moon?"
Kate burst out with her disbelief, turning to glance up at him and more unsettled by the idea that he had it then I was that he was giving it up.
"Yeah, claimed it for Hell. Think a man named Buzz gets into space without making a deal?"
Crowley explained out of the corner of his mouth, shrugging off the implications and waiting for his result.

"Ah. I'm sorry gentlemen. It seems that our reserve price has not been met so to stimulate the bidding we're going to add an item to this lot – Kevin Tran prophet of the Lord."
He pointed and suddenly Kevin was chained to the stage, wrestling with the cuffs and breathing heavily with panic.
"No!"
His mother broke to her feet and on some instinct I almost reached for her. Pulled her back but tightened my fingers into a fist until I could taste the bite of blood in my palm.
"Mr. Tran is the only person on earth who can read this tablet which makes them a perfect matching set."
The host continued politely, condescendingly as he explained this slowly as if to a child why her grief was misplaced. I eased my fingers out of their fists and let out a slow breath – recovered from my lapse of judgement. From that concern that came and went.

"So out of your league."
Crowley grinned as he delivered the insult, pleased that things had progressed and that he was the only one prepared.
"So, do I hear a bid of um …"
The host tried to continue, exhausted by the drama.
"No, Stop! I'll give you whatever you want."
She pleaded and I could hear that hardness in her voice – the one that she hadn't used except in defense of her son now crushed and broken by the thought of losing him. I could only see the top of her head, the back of her shoulders but she was still standing amongst these monsters. The wealthier of their kind and her hands open and pleading to each of them – standing her ground.
"I have a 401 (K), my house."
The man sitting behind the host started to laugh and I felt momentarily blinded by hatred. Calculating how long it would take me to get to him and break my fist into his chest and force him to apologize.
"Good effort, Ms. Tran but I'm afraid this is a little out of your price range."

The host was humouring her, taunting her with good humour like she had fought with valiant effort and should be applauded as such. It was cruel what he was doing. A cruelty that I didn't like and easily hated.

"My soul."
"Mom, don't!"
Kevin screamed it before she could finish and I my hands were in fists again – a rage of something I didn't understand in my chest and making me want to destroy with a violence I couldn't fathom. To take both her and her son and tell them to run as I tore each and every person here to fragments and soak in their blood.
"Then I raise the stakes. I offer my right hand man – sorry lady. The last Leviathan that walks this earth."
I froze and all those faces I'd contemplated the murder of turned to look at me. Not in fear or even revulsion but in interest. The look of collectors when they had found a valuable piece at a price they could afford. I started to tremble, my hands shaking at my sides and the blood of my palms dripping down my fingers.
"Intriguing but no."
The host shook off the trade – me – with no interest to add truth to his words. Crowley shrugged, sitting back down beside me with good-natured defeat and I looked over at him with something I'd so often prided myself on never feeling – fear. And underneath it in that tiny voice – the one I hated so much – telling me Of course he was going to sell you. Did you really think that after everything he could possibly love you?

"Well I tried."
He shrugged, apologizing to me like I had wanted that outcome. To be sold off and used as they would. A corpse in my own dungeon but it wasn't me shedding the blood or smiling at their screams. It was me that was bleeding. It was me in that pain.

"Congrats sweetheart."
The man behind the host was speaking again – addressing Ms. Tran who was coming to the stage with her hands pressed together in prayer and tears streaming down her face. She approached Kevin tentatively like she couldn't believe her luck, pressing her hands to his cheeks and burying her face in his shoulder. He sank into her – defeated before lifting his head and he saw me watching. There was no anger in his eyes – no hatred or snap of a neck but a question that he wasn't he sure he was asking: help us.

I leaned back against the wall, my head fallen back so I could stare up at the ceiling. The poor framework of the roof that let in too much light and would blind me if I were human. Anything less then what I was. A monster. A nightmare. A prisoner twisted into skin that ripped too easily – that bled too much. I closed my eyes and inhaled – shaky like I was about to cry but I knew better to fully believe that. We do not cry my brother had told me. We never cry. I could feel his voice like he was standing next to me, towering over me no matter which shape he took because he liked to feel taller and wanted me to be small. Look at me now – brother. The last of our kind – the last survivor of our people and I am brought low by a demon. A cockroach. Not fit to die beneath our feet. And I had thought – I'd believed that I could trust him. That we could be partners. Allies – friends. I lowered my head, eyes open now. I'd never had a friend before. I'd been above such a thing. It was a stupid thing to want. A human thing to want … There was a snap followed by a crash and my head jerked up. Gunfire. I pushed back off against the wall – ignoring Crowley's command that I was to stay put – and followed the sound of it and the anticipation beating in my chest. A shadow distorted itself down the hall and it was Ms. Tran running like her life depended on it. I almost smiled, almost relieved and then I felt it. That heavy presence that I'd associated with Crowley. That he made certain I'd felt so I would know when he was close. I saw black in the corner of my eyes and I tore after her, hitting her side hard so we both fell into the adjacent wall. She – he – struggled and I tried to swallow that fight against nature; the instinct that told me to let her die. That this wasn't my fight. The exorcism. I knew it …

"Bad girl."
She – he – spat it and thrust her palms hard against my shoulders. I lost grip on the ground and was flung back hard and then crashing into one of the displays so glass shattered against my back and splintered against my legs. I hit the stone hard, rolling back and feeling the bones in my left leg already stitching back together. Not fast enough – I needed to get up ….

"Kate."
Dean tore to where I lay and I half sat up as he fell back, brow furrowed between concern and confusion as he saw the blood. Black. Mine. Not hers. Ms. Tran threw back her head and let out a howl, red smoke billowing from her mouth and across the stone hall and under the door next to me where his vessel presumably hid. The door cracked open and he stepped out, brushing his arms and smoothing down his jacket.
"Well, that was exciting."

He congratulated everyone as he leaned over for the tablet lay abandoned by the door. He picked it and weighed it in his hand, chuckling at what a small thing it was.
"Good luck closing the gates of Hell. Without this."

He turned it back and forth between his fingers so they could all see it before his eyes finally rested on me. I meet his eyes – the exasperated betrayal in them before he turned and walked away. He didn't have to click his tongue, snap his fingers to let me know to follow. It went without saying. I pulled myself to my feet and went after, boots crunching in the glass and purposefully not looking back at them. Any of them. The door swung open as he went through it and I ran to catch up, to stand once again by his side and look like I had meant to stand there. That we'd both agreed upon it and that I didn't know what it really meant.
"Never do that again."
It was a command. An order. A fractured sentence that didn't need to be finished because I knew the unfinished threat. I knew what it meant. That I stood next to him because I was his prisoner and he held my chain.