** Kevin: Present **

Kevin had holed up in Dean's room. It was much more spacious than a closet, there were weapons stashed on the walls and the bed was luxuriously comfortable. A bit too comfortable. Kevin, laying on the bed clutching the tablet, had told himself he'd just stay there a few minutes...

There was a bang on the door and Kevin snapped awake. The door banged again. Still drowsy, Kevin dropped the tablet on the bed, hastily covering it with the sheets, then reached for a weapon on the wall. Selecting a 22, he cocked it, then pointed at the door.

"Kevin, let me in!" shouted a voice from outside.

He lowered the gun slightly. "Crowley?" Kevin called.

"You think the angel would have knocked?" Crowley said angrily. "Speaking of...he could end up here any minute!"

"Right," Kevin said, lowering the gun completely. He jogged to unlock the door, swinging it open to reveal a bruised, disheveled Crowley. He was wielding a kitchen knife, eyes darting up and down the hallway nervously. Crowley pushed past Kevin into the bedroom.

"Good, weapons," Crowley muttered.

"How did you escape?" Kevin asked curiously as he closed and re-locked the door. He walked towards Crowley, setting the gun on the bed as he sat down.

Crowley did not sit. "I made a deal," he snapped, "About half an hour ago. Which means our precious time is limited."

"You made a deal? For what? Me?" Kevin exclaimed, snatching up the gun.

"Don't be daft!" Crowley waved his hand dismissively, "He didn't have that much leverage."

"So..."

"Look, I think Moose is starting to take control. Angel-boy's not as strong as he pretends. So I made a truce, we've got an hour before he starts to attack. Which means-"

"You want me to do the spell," Kevin finished.

"Or we find an angel blade. Either works."

"Look," Kevin said, "I called Dean. He's not far; I think he could help."

Crowley rubbed the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "I don't think we've got time for that."

"You said Sam's getting stronger?" Kevin insisted, "The Winchesters, they lift each other up. Besides, Dean can fight at full power. I don't know how to fight, you're pretty messed up."

"What?" Crowley exclaimed, brandishing the kitchen knife, "I'm fine!"

"You had to make a deal," Kevin replied, standing as well as he crossed his arms defiantly.

"I make deals all the time."

"You say you've got power? Prove it."

"Wh-what?" Crowley spluttered.

"We're going to need to get that door open if Dean's going to be able to get in. Which means I'm going to need backup."

"How do you know how to open the door? I tried, and I'm a demon!"

Kevin brandished his phone triumphantly. "Smart phone. Books aren't the only place you find information."

Crowley raised his eyebrows, impressed. "It needs ingredients, I assume?"

"Yes. But I've already managed to acquire most of them," Kevin said, opening the closet to reveal an assortment of herbs and liquids piled carefully onto one of Dean's shirt.

"You do realize this is a suicide mission, right?"

"What choice do we have?" Kevin asked.

"You Winchesters," Crowley muttered, carefully selecting a machete from the wall as Kevin collected the ingredients, "Always so optimistic you can save each other."

Kevin couldn't help but smile at Crowley's insinuation: Kevin was a Winchester, too.