Hazel had spent the past three hours listening to the Winchester brothers explain how they were a different kind of a dangerous. A GOOD kind of dangerous. But dangerous was still dangerous, and Crowley hadn't done anything to hurt her. Besides the key. She didn't know what to do or think about that. Maybe she was a stupid little girl for believing a demon who had dragged her into a very perilous world actually cared about her.
The Winchesters seemed to think she was stupid. They had repeated themselves until they were blue in the face, and any proof that she could provide to show that Crowley wasn't a danger to her was dismissed by them without a second thought. They didn't care and couldn't see beyond his past.
Maybe if she knew the details of what he'd done, she would be as dismissive and hard-headed. So, they told her from the very beginning. The murders of innocent people who had stepped into his path or gotten in his way during his bid for the leadership of Hell. The attempts on their lives over the years. The threats and the devious things he's done. It was difficult to reconcile that person with the person sitting down the hall. She found it almost impossible. He'd been so careful with her. But there was that edge to him that made her wonder. That edge that attracted her and scared her.
She sat at the table and traced the map on it with her index finger while Dean and Sam sat in silence, watching her like she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. They both seemed like nice guys who cared about her safety. She believed them that Crowley was dangerous and not to be messed with. But she also believed they hadn't taken time to talk to Crowley, especially lately. Hazel sighed. Maybe she was just being tricked by her body and mind into believing Crowley cared and had changed because she wanted things to be that way.
Just after six o'clock, Dean got restless. She'd noticed that about him-that he couldn't sit still for long. While Sam was deep into books to find a way to remove the key from her so they could get her out of the bunker and away from the great big bad down the hall, Dean paced the room between reading pages. Finally, he announced that he was going to get hot dogs and pie for dinner. Hazel passed on the hot dogs, but admitted to wanting a slice of apple pie. She'd been eating cereal and peanut butter and canned beef stew since she arrived.
"Sam, did he act differently when you gave him your blood that night?"
Sam looked up from the book in front of him. His mouth opened and closed, then opened again. "Uh, yeah. I mean, the spell has been proven to work. And I think it would have had I carried it to the end."
"So, he expressed... regret?"
Sam nodded. "Yeah, he did."
"Like I said, I think he still feels the effects. He told me..."
"Well, he says a lot of things, Hazel. You can't always believe him. He'd say anything to save his ass and that's the ugly truth." Sam shifted in his chair, looking uncomfortable. "Look, I'm sorry if he made you think that he cares. Because he just doesn't. Trust me."
Stupid, stupid girl, she reprimanded herself. That's exactly what she was.
The only worthwhile emotion he had to cling to was jealousy. Her sitting there with the Winchesters while he was chained to the fucking floor of this stone box was more than he could bear. Unfortunately, the jealousy was dwarfed by his longing and regret and this strange tenderness he felt for her. Those moments in her bed and with her wrapped in his arms while she sat on his lap-those made his heart ache. What heart? He didn't have one, did he? Did he? Was this some terrible side effect of the blood? Is that why he still had these jumbled human emotions?
Things used to be so simple. Torture, kill, plan to rise to the top. If he could climb the heat of hellfire and shit that he'd been trudging through for centuries as a demon, then things would be better. Things had to be better. And they were better when he'd gained control of Hell and made all of those demons bow before him in fear. Except, all that paled in comparison to looking up at her as she ran her nails lightly over his scalp. That was a more defining moment in his life or death than any power grab. And that was a shocking, fucked up thing to realize after all these years.
He recalled those embarrassing words that spewed out of his traitorous lips when Moose had injected him with blood. It must have been the seventh syringe. He'd screamed out that he deserved to be loved, wanted to be loved. There was no love in power, though it was a good replacement. And good enough for him since demons don't love and can't be loved. She made him question that, though.
She made him question so many things he'd considered to be real and true about himself and his motivations. Because there were terrifying moments in which he wanted to give it all up if he could just have her touch him. Everything he'd worked for just gone because he wanted a fucking girl to love him. Pathetic.
He felt nauseous again. Talking to her had abated those feelings, but now that he'd accepted her loss they were back with a vengeance. The Winchesters probably had her miles from here by now, holed up in some seedy motel. If one of them touched her, then Crowley would tear the boy's head off.
He needed to get out of here and find her, but there was no escape route. The Devil's Trap was solid, the shackles were unbreakable, and they'd replaced his collar so he couldn't even stand up straight.
What if Abbadon found her? Crowley growled and shook his head. No. What if Abbadon found the key. What if Abbadon found the key. The key. Not the girl. Fuck the girl. The key was what was important.
The door to the bunker slammed against the wall when it flew open. Dean rushed in and pushed it shut, putting all his weight into throwing the latch.
"Whoa," Sam said when he and Hazel looked up to see what the commotion was.
"Got a problem," Dean said, running down the stairs and retrieving a gun and a blade from the shelf by the staircase.
Sam was already standing while Hazel was just trying to figure out what was going on. "What problem?" Sam asked.
"Abbadon. She found us. Followed me back here, I think. I tried to shake her, but she's got a Range Rover with two soldiers in camo carrying rifles. They shot baby's tail light out, I think." Dean shoved the pistol in the waistband of his jeans and grabbed a second pistol, checking to make sure it was loaded.
Sam was there beside him, gearing up himself.
"Wait. Abbadon? The one who wants to kill me?" she asked, her voice high and panicked.
"That's the one. You stay here. We're going out to hunt her down."
Hazel felt her anxiety levels shoot through the roof. "But... but what if you... what if you get hurt? How do I protect myself? Can she get in? Should I hide?"
Sam paused and looked at Dean. "We don't know how to kill her, Dean."
"Kill who? Me?"
"No, Abbadon," Sam explained. "Normally these blades will take down any demon," he said, holding up a deadly-looking knife. It looked like a miniature sword. "They don't work so well on her. They just hurt her enough."
"Right," Dean replied. "So we take out the soldiers and get stabby with the bitch until she runs off."
"She knows where I am," Hazel said, standing up backing away from the door.
"Dean, we can't leave her here unprotected."
Dean pulled a bottle of holy water form the shelf and tossed it at her. "Splash them with this and run like hell," he told her.
"Run where?" she asked.
"In the other direction."
"I... But what if they chase me down? I can't run that fast."
"Dean, she's a sitting duck here. If Abbadon finds her then she's dead."
"I don't want to die," Hazel said, walking over to them. "You can't leave me here alone. I suck at fighting."
"We can't just sit here and wait until she finds the entrance to the bunker," Dean replied. I parked out by the road and doubled back on foot. She knows we're staying within walking distance of where I left the car. We can't take you with us out there or she'll definitely get you."
Hazel was trying to think of hiding places in the bunker where they wouldn't think to look for her. As long as the key on her wasn't a beacon, she could hide for a day or more if it meant saving her life. Suddenly, she realized the best place to hide. "The dungeon," she told them. "I'll hide in the dungeon. You shut me inside and they won't be able to find me. The doors, they just look like shelves. Yeah?"
"No," Dean said.
"Why?"
"You're not getting anywhere near Crowley."
"He's chained. I'll stay in the corner. I won't talk to him."
"Dean," Sam said, reasoning with his brother. "It's the safest place for her in here. If we can't find Abbadon before she finds the bunker and if the wards can't keep her out, then the best place for Hazel is that room."
"It's not going to come to that," Dean said.
"It might," Sam replied. He turned his back on Hazel and whispered to his brother, "Look, she let him out and he didn't leave. He didn't hurt her. Maybe he can help protect her."
"He doesn't help people, Sammy," Dean snapped back.
"He helps himself and she's got his key. He'll protect her," Sam said, his voice just loud enough for Hazel to hear.
"So, what? We just-just release him and let him fuck us over?"
"No, we keep the shackles on and have him keep her safe."
Dean ran a hand through his hair and turned his back on Sam and Hazel. He was frustrated and he didn't like the plan, but it seemed like he'd agree to it. "The shackles mean he can't protect her. He's neutered," Dean finally said.
Sam sighed and stepped back so he could pace the floor right in front of the stairs. "Okay, okay. So," he paused and then said, "so we give her the key to the shackles and tell her that she can only use it if Abbadon enters the bunker."
"Enters the dungeon," Dean amended. "Even if she gets in, there's a chance she won't find her."
"Fine, enters the dungeon," Sam replied. He turned to Hazel. "Did you hear that? We'll give you the key, but you can only release him if you can see Abbadon. Last resort. Got it?"
Hazel felt sick to her stomach. Were these going to be the last few moments of her short and uneventful life? "Okay. Yeah," she agreed. "Last resort."
"Don't even let him know you have the key or he'll manipulate you," Dean told her, pulling it out of his back pocket and pressing it into her hand. "Don't let him go."
Sam grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the hallway. "Hide the key," he whispered. Hazel tucked it into her bra as she stumbled after Sam. "Don't come out unless you hear us. Got it?"
"Okay," she said. Her eyes were wide and her heart was pounding. "Is this really happening to me?"
"You'll be okay," Sam said. "You got the holy water, right?"
"Yes," she said. The bottle was cradled against her chest by her free arm.
"That will hurt them, slow them down. Throw it and run. If things get bad, Crowley is the last resort. I think he'll protect you since you have the key, but he might kill you once he's free. Don't think he's on your side. He's not."
Hazel could hardly breathe by the time they got to the storage room. Sam pulled open the doors and flipped the light on.
"Moose," Crowley said in greeting before he saw Hazel standing behind Sam with what was probably a terrified look on her face. "What is this?" he asked.
"We have a problem," Sam said, putting the extra chair in the corner to Crowley's right. "She's staying here with you until we get back. Don't kill her."
Crowley's eyes were wide, taking everything in. "I won't kill her." The words seemed so easy for him to say. And he was a man-demon-of his word. Although, Sam seemed to think he'd do only what was in his best interest, even if that meant killing her.
Sam hurried over and unlocked the collar around his neck. Hazel honestly hadn't even noticed the horrible collar until that moment. "Don't go near him," Sam told her before he rushed out of the room and shut the doors. Hazel stood by them and looked at Crowley. Her hands were shaking.
"Come here, love," he said, standing up and holding his arms out to her. The chain hung down between them.
In that moment all those rushed warnings from Dean and Sam disappeared. She was unable to stop shaking and he seemed so calm and collected and capable. Hazel crossed the circle of the Devil's Trap like it wasn't even there and walked over to him. It was so easy for her to step up against his body and let him lift his hands so he could slide the chain behind her back and wrap her in his arms.
"What's happened?" His voice was soft.
"She found me," Hazel whispered.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know. Dean said she followed him back to the bunker. Or... well, he lost her. But she's somewhere outside." She lifted her face to look up into his eyes. "Will she really kill me?"
"Yes. That's very likely." His dark eyes looked distant. She wasn't sure if he was worried or completely uncaring about her and the situation.
"Why won't you take this key off me?" she asked.
"Because I'm a selfish bastard who wants to save his own skin," he replied, no compassion in his voice. It was like he was so far away, not even in the room with her.
Hazel ducked out of his arms and stepped out of the Devil's Trap "You mean you're afraid," she clarified, suddenly feeling contempt for him.
"Among other things, love," he agreed, sitting down hard on the metal chair.
She wrapped her arms around herself and walked over to the chair Sam had put in the corner. "You won't protect me if she comes in here." It was a statement, not a question. Hazel felt stupid for ever thinking he would help keep her safe.
When she turned around, she saw him sitting there looking defeated. "I don't protect people," he told her.
"I thought so much better of you," she said, sitting down. Tears were gathering in her eyes. "You did a good job of fooling me into thinking you might actually care a little."
Crowley felt sick to his stomach. This dream-like little world he'd built with her was crumbling into an ugly reality in which he would be responsible for the death of the only person who had ever freely given him comfort. His attempts at disconnecting his mind from the tumultuous emotions were futile. His instinct was to comfort her, fight for her. His mind told him not to climb out on that limb because it was about to snap and he'd go down with her.
If Abbadon got the key, then he might be able to deal with her. Offer his services, bring those loyal to him to her side. Thinking of a contingency plan came natural to him. If Plan A didn't work, Plan B had to. And then there would always be Plan C if all else failed. So, he'd take a step back, hand over the control to Abbadon. He could work his way back up like he did before and dispose of her. He had forever after all.
Taking the key back would mean certain death. Abbadon would kill him to get it. Kill him for not giving it to her. But if he didn't fight her for Hazel, then... Then Hazel would die. Abbadon would be in charge. And he could negotiate for his life.
Hazel would die. First class ticket to heaven. And he'd never see her again. She looked so scared sitting over there. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, but it was amazing how well those human coping mechanisms were coming back to him. He was learning to tamp it down, cover it up, turn a blind eye.
"I thought so much better of you," she said. "You did a good job of fooling me into thinking you might actually care a little."
Her words made his chest ache. She'd treated him better than anyone in his life or death had. And she'd done it despite the fact that he was the one who had put her in danger and refused to take her out of it. What a fucking bastard he was.
"I'm sorry, love," he told her.
