Chapter 11:

From the Journal of Bobby Winchester

I enjoyed traveling with Crowley immediately. I had thought there would be a time where we were adjusting to each other or missing parts of traveling alone. But I warmed to him right off. I had the tendency to fall into long tracts of silence. He had reacted to solitude differently and tended to talk without stopping in long segments. I thought maybe he liked hearing his own voice, but perhaps he liked someone else hearing his voice. I understood that. Having another person react and respond to things I said and did was an experience I would never tire of. Sometimes I would say something and he would laugh, the first time, that gave me a bigger rush than attacking the Hellion.

We didn't take the bike. He told me I had been a fool to make that much noise, I had laughed, and told him that if I hadn't I wouldn't have been around to save him. Then he laughed too. But we left the bike.

I now adored going through cities. We walked through the once main thoroughfares and he told stories, explained what everything used to be. I thought he must have been everywhere. Once, we were in one of these cities, Chicago, I think. We were in front of an immense domed structure with big tracts of parking around it. I pointed up to it.

"What is that? What did they do in there?"

He furrowed his brow and gave me a confused sort of sneer. I didn't often ask questions, usually I didn't know enough beyond his descriptions to ask anything about.

"That's an arena."

"Ok, but what did they do in there, what do you need all that space for? I sort of had an inkling what arenas were, or really I suppose I had known that they existed, but I couldn't remember their purpose.

Instead of answering he said, "How did you survive the Hellions, Bobby?"

He would do this sometimes. He would ask a question or make a comment and it would seem entirely unrelated to whatever we were talking about, but it always circled itself back. I thought that this is what my father might have been warning me about. Not to trust where I thought he was going with things. But I didn't think he was a threat. I think he disliked being alone more than I had. So I answered him.

"I was in the bunker."

"With your father?"

"No, Cas killed him. I said that." I didn't want to have to say it again, it made me burn.

In a gentle voice, not accustomed to him he asked, "How old were you when your father was – died?"

I shrugged, "Nine, I think."

There was a stretch of silence and his eyebrows rose sharply, "How old are you now?"

I thought for a moment, years were slipping away from me. "Twenty three or twenty four, it was hard to keep track."

He seemed to be recovering from some sort of blow, "You've...been alone for longer than you've..."

I was looking at him. He looked thrown off kilter, which he didn't often look. Then he righted himself, regaining his normal ease, "Had I known I would have explained everything much better."

There was more silence. He was looking at me expectantly and I thought that there might have been something I was supposed to do or say that I didn't remember. He waited a long while then said, "If you would like to know, you could ask how I survived the Hellions, it would be a bonding moment, Kitten."

"I know how you survived the Hellions."

He raised and eyebrow challengingly, I thought maybe he just wanted to tell me his story and I felt bad about saying it.

"How, then, tell me, how did I survive the Hellions."

I shrugged, "By being the most conniving, self reliant son of a bitch Hell has ever had." It was a direct quote from my father. He had said it by way of warning.

He preened and grinned, "Who gave me that description, darling?"

"Dad."

Then he laughed in a self indulgent sort of way. "Well, yes, that is how I survived, but I'll tell you the whole story sometime."

He didn't hold on to the story for long. On my insistence we spent the night on top of the highest tower still looking solid. On his insistence we brought scotch. It wasn't particularly easy to get up to the tower. There used to be elevators, but they were obviously in disrepair and without power. So we took the stairs. Him irritatedly, me gleefully. The door was locked to the roof, but he winked at me, clicked his fingers, and it opened. I was duly impressed.

We dragged chairs out of the upper office suites, and I pulled out blankets from my tightly packed stores. We wrapped ourselves up and bunkered down. He had positioned us excellently, so we could watch the sun sink over the city. I was certain I had never seen something quite as beautiful. Then, in the dark, he told me how he had escaped.

XXXXX

From the Journal of Bobby Winchester

An Annotated Retelling of Crowley's Rooftop Survival Story (As extant as possible, he told me a long time ago) My additions will be parenthetical.

It was fifteen years ago (I would have been eight, I think) I had known that there was an attack coming. Your papa's angel boyfriend (I asked for clarification, he said it was mostly a joke, but he had his suspicions. I hoped it was true, it would have been nice for Dad to have somebody. Not to be so alone.) was up to another of his moronic schemes to save his angel pals. I was worried that dear Cas was so involved, his plans tended to have a body count. I had gone to your father to convince him to see reason and help in the fight against Cas. (I told him I had heard all that, that I was eavesdropping in the escape hatches above the bunker. He seemed entertained and impressed, he called me a delightful surprise.) Your dear dad, of course, would hear none of it. He was too enamored of Castiel to work against him. And I am not sure he really saw the harm in what Cas was doing. Although when I told him Cas would be killed he seemed interested he never consented to working with me.

So I was in Hell, trying to build defenses before the attack. Military engagements had never been my primary forte, not that I was a bad military leader (as I found out later, he is a pretty bad military leader, combat isn't really his cup of tea) but this had moved beyond the realm of schemes and tricks. The attack was upon us. Hell fell to them in days (had I been there Hell would have stood for a thousand years.) The Hellions, as you call them, were demons themselves, so keeping them out was tricky. There were six of them when they made their first assault. But as they ate the bred. Each generation becoming more and more like beasts. We could not resist them. Nothing killed them. They were always hungry. I had gathered in the old palace, I had a contingent of demons with me, no more than thirty. We could watch them from the turrets as they ate their way across my kingdom.

I was sitting on the war room, looking over maps and histories. We needed a back way out of Hell and there were secrets that had been lost long ago. The door slammed open and one of my demons, the lookout scurried in, eyes wild, "Sir! They've breached the walls!" Hastily, I snatched a map from the table and ran with lookout toward the back doors of the Palace, a number of others joining us, though the screams of the dying echoed from the main doors behind us. Only four of us, myself included made it out. There were six Hellions in the palace and it took them long enough to make it through the demons I had locked in that we had a chance to escape. We went to the wilds of Hell, the deepest pits. A place even demons avoided. Wild Hellhounds once roamed there, although we didn't see any. I think that is what saved us. That the Hellions had already been through the wilds and found them wanting. The histories had allowed me one option. A terrible option.

There was a way out. But the way had been sealed many eons ago. Sealed with a prison. That prison was occupied at the moment by brother Lucifer and Michael. Two creatures I was less than interested in freeing. Oh, and the human Adam Milligan, I almost forgot about him, your father's half brother. (I had made him stop here and questioned him, how could I not have known about another brother of my father? My uncle. Crowley told me that my father liked to pretend to have forgotten about Adam.) But I was willing to free them if it meant my only chance at life. As we neared the Cage, that was it's name, the Cage, we demons are not terribly original. We saw that the door was hanging off it's hinges.

We stopped, filled with dread. Were Lucifer and Michael free or dead? Either option was not appealing. This was the first time I saw what Castiel had become. As we drew nearer we could see that Hellions were inside the Cage, that Michael and Lucifer were backed into a corner. There were three Hellions. One was distracted, devouring what I suppose was Adam. The other two were facing the strongest angels in existence. The most humanoid of the three was grinning, this was Cas. I shuddered. I had seen how deadly Cas could be as just an angel, also how deadly he could be filled with Leviathans (I asked him about this too, he said he would tell me that story later but suffice it to say that Cas' ideas were nearly always self destructive and idiotic.) I had gone cold at the thought of how much death Cas could cause with that many teeth.

Cas snickered at Lucifer and snapped his teeth playfully, "It's been so long, Lucy! And Michael! Do you remember when you killed me? I think I'll just return the favor! I've been so CURIOUS as what your grace will taste like." And then he attacked. They fought well, beautifully really, considering they could do no damage to the Hellions. It brought a great deal of finality to our situation to watch Lucifer be torn apart, his grace devoured by a beast, although I had never liked the fallen angel brat, he was admittedly potent.

I didn't see the end of the fight. I was too busy finding someplace to hide. Hiding didn't, however, work. But, as a I said, there were four of us and three Hellions. Not that we stood a chance in a fight, but the Hellions could only eat one person at a time. So a sacrifice of all my remaining companions gave me about fifteen seconds to sprint into the Cage myself. I had the incantation memorized, I was good at incantation, my mother was a witch, you know. And then I was on Earth. I had thought I would be safe there, at least for awhile. But I had escaped one Hell and found myself in another. The Hellions were there too, eating and eating and eating. There was one notable improvement for me on Earth. I could move with the snap of my fingers. Which greatly improved my chance at survival. At least I could for awhile and it helped me survive the worst of it.

I could no longer move as far as I once could and after a few months I could only make in a few feet, which still helped me keep myself alive. Then I couldn't move at all, and all I could manage were little tricks, like opening that door. Hell is dead, its power is gone.

I spent the rest of my time in solitude, keeping as far from the Hellions as possible. Finally they ate themselves to death. The human and demons were gone. The angels too, I think, and they began to starve. The youngest generations first, they were the most ravenous. Until only the older and stronger ones remained. Don't fool yourself, girl, there are still Hellions, strong and well and hungry. But if we can avoid them, they too will die.

XXXXX

From the Journal of Bobby Winchester

So that is the story he told me, while we were curled up beneath blankets, looking up at the stars. "So there aren't any more people?" I asked, softly.

"No, darling, I don't think there are."

Despair pulsed within me, but I pushed it away. I was beginning to discover, with Crowley as my teacher, that despair could most easily be diminished by witty or arrogant remarks, it dispelled the seriousness of the situation. So I grinned at him.

"Does that make me the Queen of the Earth?"

He stared at me then let out a cackling laugh. "The King of Hell and the Queen of the Earth drinking scotch under the stars." he chuckled. Then he looked at me oddly for a long while.

"Are you...cold?" He said this a little slyly. I wasn't sure his ploy, for surely with that tone he had a ploy, this would be one of those times where what he said wasn't what he wanted to talk about. But I was cold. Chicago is very far north and it was late in the year, this high in the air the wind was biting.

"Yeah, I suppose."

He tilted an eyebrow, "Come here."

I shrugged and walked over to him. I wasn't sure what he wanted. He uncurled his blanket and opened it for me. I wasn't certain, I had never been so close to another person since I was a child and my father was alive. But the thought warmed me. I sat next to him. He wrapped the blanket around us and set his arm around my shoulder, so I leaned against him. It was warm, his body radiated heat. The proximity sent goosebumps down my arms. I could feel his heart beating. It was a beautiful sound, another person alive. He offered me some scotch. I sipped it, it too, warmed me to my bones.

On the highest roof in Chicago, the last two creatures between Heaven and Hell curled up in each others' warmth, sipped scotch, and looked at the stars.

AN: Thank you all for reading! I hope you are all having as much fun as I am! SO MANY big cozy thanks to all my reviewers!

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