"I called in the Calvary, but they're still not here yet," Meg said a few mornings later as she entered the kitchen.

"What do you mean, they're not here?" Bobby frowned.

"I guess time is different for them. Five minutes for them could be five days for us."

"So, what? We just sit on our thumbs until they arrive?" Bobby snorted.

"I guess that's up to Amelia," Castiel said. "She's the commander here, after all."

"She's a baby!"

"She is practically Sam's age, Bobby," Cas reminded him.

Bobby grumbled. "Well, he's justa kid, too."

"Where is Amelia, anyway?" Castiel frowned.

"Where do you think?" Meg snorted. "Holed up with –"

"She's on Staten Island again, actually," Crowley said as he too appeared in the kitchen. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a long black bathrobe and slippers. He fished around the fridge for a moment before reemerging with a piece of cold pizza.

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying your vacation, princess," Bobby said sarcastically. "Sorry, which one are you know? Crowley, the King of Hell, or Fergus, the House Husband?"

"Amusing." He took a bite of the pizza and looked thoughtful. "Sorry, I'm having trouble recalling – why are you here again, Bobby? Oh, right, because I wanted you to be. I pulled your red neck out of heaven, and I can kick it back into Hell without so much as scuffing my boot."

"You know, I'd really like to make a rude comment at you, but I'm afraid in your fragile human state you might break down crying," the hunter retorted. His eyes widened as the rug was yanked out from under him and he went tumbling backwards with enough force to crack the counter as he slammed into it.

"Oops," Crowley said nonchalantly, sipping his coffee.

"You son of a –"

"Fergus McCloud, what did you do to my kitchen?"

Crowley winced at Amelia's harsh tone. "Ah. Sorry, dear, but seeing as it was Bobby's fault . . ."

"Like hell!" Bobby argued.

"I don't care who started it, I'm finishing it," Amelia said firmly. "Coffee?"

Crowley handed her a mug. "Three sugars, two creams."

"Just how I like it," she replied as though it were perfectly normal, taking the cup and sipping it.

"I'm uncomfortable," Castiel said.

"Took the words right outta my mouth," Meg said. "C'mon, Clarence, let's let them have their turn at being the odd couple."

Bobby called everyone an idjit, following the angel and demon.

"You're home earlier than I thought," Crowley remarked.

"A lot of the Stanten Islanders aren't my biggest fans," Amelia said. "After all, if it wasn't for me, they'd still have the great Sam Winchester to save them."

"Sam was never my favorite."

"You have favorites?"

"Well, don't tell Dean," Crowley smirked, leaning forward. "But I have a new favorite Winchester now."

Amelia smirked and kissed his forehead. "What's the good in that if I can't brag?" She stood straight, looking tired. "We should get dressed. I need to get out of these clothes and into something more comfortable."

Crowley snapped his fingers, and was instantly clothed in his black suit, tie, and shoes, his hair clean and brushed. Amelia, however, gasped when she realized she was covered only by a very tight black corset and matching lace thong.

"Fergus!"

She laughed, however, in amusement as he wrapped his arms around her and they were suddenly in her bed between the silk sheets, only now they both sported even less clothing than before.

"You cheeky bastard," she laughed as he trailed kissed down her neck. He hooked a thumb through the waistline of her thong, pulling it down slowly. He then trailed his fingers back up towards her inner thigh, tracing soft skin until he found what he was looking for. Amelia gasped, and Crowley smirked, amusing it was in pleasure. It was when Amelia began to scramble from under the covers and clutch her head that Crowley realized something was wrong.

"Melia? What is it, darling?" Though as he spoke, he could hear it, too; like an annoying ringing in his ears at first, and then like a supersonic high pitched dog whistle. He could understand why Amelia was crying; if it was that terrible to him, he couldn't imagine what it sounded like with her amplified psychic senses.

With a snap of his fingers, Crowley clothed both of them, and dragged Amelia towards the corner in the rom furthest from mirrors of windows, which were shattering around them. Crowley wrapped his arms over Amelia, trying to help cover her ears, and felt blood soaking through their fingers.

The high pitched noise faded after a few agonizing moments, and Crowley felt his own face; blood was streaming from his own ears.

Amelia hastily got to her feet, grabbing a towel and sopping up the blood from her ears.

The door burst open, and Bobby stood there, shotgun in hand. "You alright?"

Amelia nodded, dabbing at her other ear. "Metatron," she explained. "He's close by, and he's pissed about something."

"What do we do?" Crowley asked.

"Assemble the Avengers, I suppose," Amelia sighed, grabbing her radio by the bed. "Jo, do you copy?"

"I copy, Aims – how you holding up?" the younger Winchesters voice crackled through.

"We're fine here, the Islanders?"

"Looks like the angel proofing worked against sound; no one noticed a thing. Dec and I did, though, we were on our way to Manhatten."

"Who's available?"

"Most of the other leaders are still out on that Kansas raid, but there's me and Deacon. Our sources told us that Metatron was supposed to be in Kansas, but I guess it was a wild goose chase."

"Alright, we'll have to scramble the troops that we've got available."

"Copy that, boss lady. See you in ten."

Amelia set down her radio and strolled across the room, pulling open a cabinet to reveal a large screen and console. She pushed a few buttons and waited. A moment later, Dean – of this time, of course – appeared on the screen via his wrist com device, his face splattered with blood and dirt. Screaming could be heard behind him, and Jo gasped as she entered the room with a man who must be Deacon.

"Dean?" Amelia exclaimed. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"No, we were set up!" the hunter called back, ducking behind a tree. "We came straight into an ambush of Croats, not to mention angels and a few demons. We . . ." he looked sick and shook his head, his eyes wet. "We lost Cas, Amy."

Jo gasped and sobbed, burying her face against Deacon.

"No. No, don't say that," Amelia shook her head violently. "Who?"

"Metatron."

"That's impossible, Metatron is here, I think he's sending an attack force –"

"No, Amy, no!" Dean yelled back. "It's a trick, don't go out there – do not go out there! It's not Metatron, it's him!" He groaned as something struck him in the back, and he fell forward.

"Dean!" Amelia called. Dean had gotten to his feet and stabbed an angel blade through a bloody Croat. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Metatron, standing over the broken, smoking body of Castiel. Dean cocked his gun and started towards him.

"Dad!" Jo screamed, ripping herself away from Deacon and stumbling towards the console. "Dad, no!"

"Jo, you be careful. You two, Amy," Dean called, looking at them through the screen. "You guys stay okay, you got me? You don't die!"

Dean shot several times at Metatron, screaming, before there was a sickening crack.

Jo screamed as the screen went out. She sobbed, holding onto Amy as she sunk to the floor, sobbing. Amy sank with her, tears streaming from her face as she stared into space. Gently, she laid a hand on her cousin's head and made her sleep, projecting calm, soothing images into her brain. Castiel, who had joined the others, lifted her and lay her down on the bed gently.

"Amelia," Cas said as he joined her. "Dean said he was coming. Who is?"

"It's over," Amy said quietly. "Lucifer is here."