Problem Child
What I want I take, What I don't I break,
And I don't want you,
With a flick of my knife I can change your life
There's nothing you can do
– AC/DC

Thunder rolled sullenly across the iron gray sky as rain poured down in sheets, driven into wavering curtains by the gusting wind. Crowley glanced out the window as he strode down the hall, heading to his study. A number of his spies had reported back and he was eager to hear what they had found. A flicker of lightning flared outside as wind rattled the window panes, and Crowley thanked whatever malevolent overlord looked out for things like him that he had no need to be outside on a day like this. He was just savoring the sense of being proofed against the fury of nature when he came to a side door that let out under a portico, originally used for dropping off patients.

Standing in the doorway was the seer, as wet as if someone had just hauled her out of a lake. Crowley looked at her dripping form with bewildered horror, "You're soaked."

"Your powers of observation are truly remarkable," Devi replied wryly, wiping rainwater from her eyes as she leaned down to untie her shoes, which were very muddy. She slipped them off, careful to keep them on the stone stoop to avoid tracking any in.

"You went out running, in this?" he gestured out the window. "It's diluvial out there!"

"It wasn't raining like this when I started," she argued.

"What was it raining like?" Crowley asked pointedly.

Devi snorted, shaking her head and scattering water droplets around the foyer, spattering Crowley in the process, "By the time it really started coming down, I was already halfway around the trail. I'd have gotten just as wet turning around and coming back as I did going on to finish."

"And where are those two cretins who were supposed to go with you?" he growled, looking out the door behind her.

"Well, if I was feeling particularly mean," the seer said airily, peeling off a sock and wringing it out, "I would say they probably still haven't found their way out of the blackberry thicket on the southwest side."

"You can't keep ditching your escort," Crowley insisted.

"Well, clearly I can," she retorted.

"You shouldn't be out running alone. There are Hellhounds patrolling the grounds..."

"I saw them," she countered, taking no small pride in reminding Crowley that his favorite pets weren't invisible to her.

"Hellhounds that are expressly trained to run down and tear fleeing humans to pieces," he added emphatically. "Your haring around the grounds is just asking for a mauling."

Devi frowned at him, perplexed, "Then why haven't they tried? I'm not that fast, not when I'm running for distance anyway."

"Not that fast?" Crowley mused, then chuckled softly as if at some private joke. "Tell me, you ran the outer belt, correct?" At her nod, he went on, "And how long did it take you?"

She shrugged, "A little over an hour, maybe – why?"

"It's nearly ten miles."

The seer cocked her head at him, sure she'd heard him wrong, "I'm sorry, I must have rainwater in my ear. I thought you said 'ten miles.'" He nodded and her jaw dropped, "That's not possible."

Crowley only smirked, "How's that?"

She shook her head stubbornly, "The last time I was keeping track, I could just break a nine-minute mile on a route like that. You expect me to believe I'm doing better than eight minutes, long-haul, and over uneven ground? Are you sure it's not kilometers?" She knew she could do ten kilometers in an hour, handily. At least she could in high school, but there'd been a number of things interrupting her training schedule since then.

"Ten miles," Crowley repeated, "and you left my lads in the dust."

"They're not runners," Devi argued. "They don't even have the right shoes."

He rolled his eyes, "Fine – when's the last time you ran against another runner?"

"Last spring," she recalled. "I ran into Sam and Dean in Annapo..." She narrowed her eyes at Crowley, "On a job you already know about. Sam and I did a few miles one morning, just to wake up."

"And you kept up? With that long-legged lummox?" He cocked his head, "And you didn't think anything of it?"

She looked away. "I assumed he was holding back for me," she grumbled. "Besides, the Trials were wearing on him. Regardless, he set the pace."

"Well, you're quick enough against the boys," Crowley became serious as he returned to the point. "But the Hounds are quicker – meaner too."

"If they're that blood-thirsty, shouldn't one of them have chased me up a tree by now? Unless..." she looked shrewdly at Crowley. "Unless they don't see me as human..." Her blood was different from an ordinary human, and that could mean she smelled different, too. For an animal that "saw" the world primarily through its nose, it could be confusing.

"The Hounds are trained, darling, but they're not tame," Crowley informed her. "They haven't been set on you, and so they've resisted instinct so far."

"Then it shouldn't be a problem," she said levelly, "as long as no one 'sets' them on me."

Crowley gritted his teeth in frustration. "The Hounds may not have quite made you out yet," he persisted seriously, "but they'll become less wary in time. Sooner or later, one of them will get brave enough or curious enough to have a go, and when that happens, the rest won't hesitate to join in. At the very least, don't go running after dark; they're bolder then."

"Fine," said Devi with an aggravated sigh. She picked up her shoes, tying the laces together and throwing them over her shoulder before brushing by Crowley, limping slightly as she headed up the hall. Fletcher's box of remedies had worked wonders for her feet, healing the damage in a matter of days rather than weeks. She'd been so thrilled with the results, she probably had overdone it today. Hopefully, Nate's cure would be equally effective on the several large blisters she'd gained from continuing to run in waterlogged shoes.

Crowley watched her go, shaking his head before continuing to his study. The debriefing was just getting underway when there was the sound of shattering glass outside the room. This was followed by a series of thuds, punctuated by increasingly panicked shouts, and then the door shuddered as something heavy was thrown against it.

Crowley yanked the door open to find one of his men cowering in a ball on the threshold, blood trickling from his temple. On second glance, Crowley recognized a demon from the Pennsylvania expedition, and the earlier incursion at the vetala nest – Kelson, that was his name. Beyond him stood a furious seer armed with a large shard of glass, which she held unconscious of the blood trickling from her palm.

"What's the bloody hell is all this?" Crowley demanded.

"This loathsome piece of crap tried to jump me," she stated, pointing at the creature in question with the shard, "so I'm gonna to take his skin off."

"What are you talking about?" Crowley persisted. "What do you mean 'jumped you'".

"This," Devi spat, and tossed a syringe to him. It was half full of something red. "I'm guessing it's his," she added.

Demon blood, Crowley realized. What is that witless worm playing at? He turned to the worm in question, glaring. "WELL?" he barked suddenly, causing his minion to jump bodily.

The demon was shaking, but screwed up his courage enough to cast an accusation. "She's an enemy to demonkind, sir!" he argued. "She's been colluding with the witches, making poisons that targets us specifically!"

"On my orders!" Crowley roared. "In case it's slipped your feeble mind, I want a certain Knight of Hell very dead, very soon."

"She has to be controlled!" Kelson vied, "She's wormed her way into this court, despite her murderous nature, seduced you..."

At that, the seer leapt for him, glass shard ready and a growl in her throat. Only Crowley's timely interception saved his minion, who immediately cowered again, shielding himself with his hands.

"Enough!" Crowley said, steering her away from the lesser demon. "Let me handle this."

"Oh, I think you've done plenty," Devi snapped, shoving his hands away. At Crowley's look of incomprehension, she elaborated. "You expect me to believe you didn't set this up? Is this some kind of a test in your warped, twisted mind? Waiting for him to jab me so you could try dragging me off somewhere with your little 'dimension door' trick?"

Crowley's was shocked to find that he was actually a little hurt at her accusations. He rationalized it as being insulted that she thought he would be so clumsy in his schemes. "I had nothing to do with this little prat, or his frankly suicidal attack on you," he stated firmly.

She shifted her gaze back to Kelson, who was pushing himself up from the ground and looking at her with abject hatred. Devi tightened her jaw, and moved towards him again. He scrambled up and backed against the wall, again holding up his arms to ward off a blow. She glared back at the demon, wondering how she ever could have been afraid of something like him.

Crowley again put his hand out to stop her. "Easy, pet," he said conspiratorially, "I'll take care of him. Believe me, he won't be causing you any more problems." He was sincere, as much as he ever was, anyway.

Devi stared at him,as if trying to burn in her mind what honesty, or a near approximation of it, looked like on his borrowed face. It was an odd sight. She narrowed her eyes at the King of Hell, and lifted her chin.

"Curb your dogs, Crowley," she warned him. She turned down the hall as if to leave, but at the last moment, she whirled on Kelson. The blood-smeared glass flashed across the demon's face and he crumbled to the floor howling, his hands pressed to his eyes as blood seeped between his fingers. "Or I will," she let the shard fall from her hand as she headed back up the hall.

Crowley gave a nod to his spymaster, gesturing at the fallen demon, and followed the seer, glancing ruefully at the shattered front of a display case along the wall, which had housed reconstructed skeletons of several small monsters. From the set of her shoulders as she walked in front of him, doing her best to outpace him without actually running, she didn't intend on explaining herself. Too bad.

"What happened?" He phrased it as a question, but his tone suggested he wasn't asking. The seer's scowl darkened, her posture somehow becoming even more stiff, and she said nothing.

Crowley drew even with her, then took a quick step forward to block her progress, glowering down at her. "You just viciously attacked one of my men, of whom I have very few and of shaky loyalty at that, and you did it publicly," he went on, in a low voice like frozen steel. "You'd better have a damn good reason for doing so."

Her cheeks were still flushed with rage, but she kept a tight rein on her voice, her words shaken only slightly by barely-controlled fury, "Is fighting for my life not an acceptable reason?"

"Tell me how it happened," Crowley repeated his demand, in a marginally less aggressive tone.

"I was on my way back to my room," she told him, speaking slowly and distinctly. "I was just past the hall going to the library, and something didn't feel right. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see that creep slinking out of a side room with a syringe. The minute I saw him, he bolted, so I ran him down and put him through the case," she nodded back toward the shattered glass. "The rest you saw."

Crowley straightened, looking away and running a hand over his face, cursing his lackey's stupidity. If the seer hadn't reacted so strongly, he could have made an example of the cretin himself. Now, he risked making him a martyr, and the accusation that the seer was out of hand would only spread.

"If you had stood down and let me take care of it-" he began.

Devi cut him off irritably, "You're not always around. I have to be able to take care of myself, and they have to know I can."

"It's not that simple," Crowley corrected sharply, then sighed. "A lot of them were unsettled by seeing you with the River Serpent," he went on more calmly. Even the normally unflappable Andrews had been unnerved by the story, subtly keeping his distance from the seer. "It reminded them of what you are, what your purpose is. You frighten them; they see your presence here as a challenge."

"I had no idea demons were such delicate flowers," she sneered.

"Oh, you don't know the half of it, darling," Crowley said with a bitter twist to his lips. "Imagine the most fragile, over-inflated egos boxed up together for centuries, everyone trying to outdo the other, the betrayals, the bullying, the backstabbing... an unholy pairing of Greek tragedy and soap opera."

"Hmm, and why am I working for this setup, again?" the seer snapped, her manner still icy.

"Because the alternative is infinitely worse," Crowley answered almost cheerfully. The seer gave a little snarl, but didn't reply, glaring out a nearby window. He narrowed his eyes, noting she was still as tense. There was something else bothering her.

"I took him out of the vetala's mouth," she finally said, in a voice that was barely audible. She didn't look at Crowley as she said it. The silence stretched another minute, before the seer huffed out a frustrated breath. "Go on," she added bitterly. "Tell me how stupid I was to think that meant anything."

Crowley leaned back and let out a sigh of comprehension, tilting his head to consider the crestfallen seer. Even surrounded by enemies, it was almost impossible for a human to maintain constant vigilance in the long term – it was just too exhausting. Additionally, having worked hand-in-hand with his people would inevitably lowered her guard. She had to give them some measure of trust, however grudging, just to get the job done. It was hard, especially for one so young, to keep balance between wariness and acceptance. Children want it all one way or the other, he mused.

"Well," the seer went on, straightening and striding purposely down the hall, "I know better now." She sounded like she had as much contempt for herself as for Kelson.

She was exceptionally hard on herself, Crowley considered as he watched her go. It was one of the things that made her so easy to motivate, to push and pull and shepherd into doing "what needed to be done," but she could just as easily become despondent when she failed to meet her own ridiculous standards. Now was no time for her to fall into a sulk, not when their work on the poison was progressing so well and the need for it was becoming so pressing.

Crowley stroked his beard thoughtfully. Something would have to be done: to make the seer secure enough to stay on task, to address rumors that she was too much for him to handle, to ensure there were no more unauthorized attacks. I can't fight a war with my own soldiers at each others' throats. The girl was an asset, but he couldn't lose control of his army for just one resource.

Several days later, Devi made a discovery: the asylum had a training room. Why on earth the asylum should have a training room was beyond her, but she was glad to find it, considering the rain had continued unabated and her blisters still hadn't healed up sufficiently to go running again. Near the center of the building's main floor was a wide-open room with racks of weights lining one wall, numerous melee weapons mounted on another, reinforced punching bags hung in the corners, and most of the room's middle covered by stiff, bamboo matting set into the floor.

Devi ran a hand over a set of dumbells thoughtfully. She hadn't done any weight training since high school, when she had been on the swim team. She cocked her head, reading the number on the side of the smallest set; the white "50" showed clearly against the dark metal. That can't be right, she thought, What are they made of, platinum? She bypassed the weights – if they started that high, they weren't going to be much good for her.

Unless I've magically gotten strong as well as fast, she snorted softly, thinking back to what Crowley had told her when she'd come in from running. Ten miles, indeed. Of course, he'd been lying, though why still puzzled her. She couldn't figure out what he hoped to gain from making her think she was faster; her best guess was he'd done it for his own amusement's sake, and she chalked it up to his warped sense of humor.

She shoved at a punching bag, catching it as it swayed back before turning to study the weapons hung on the wall. Most of them looked to be for display purposes, give how high and securely they'd been mounted, but there was a stand of polished rattan staffs of various lengths, from two feet to six. Devi picked up one of the longer ones, surprised by how light it was; her spear was so much heavier. Hefting it, a number of simple practice forms came to mind, forms she was certain she had never been taught. She was just thinking of trying a few out when the door opened.

Four demons strode in, looking around the room like they owned the place. Devi didn't recognize any of them, but that didn't signify much, given how often Crowley's demons swapped bodies and how few of them actually talked to her. Two of them ignored her outright, the other two casting disparaging glances towards her, then sniffing dismissively as they roamed over towards the weights, flexing and rotating their arms as if warming up. Devi rolled her eyes at them, weighing her options: she didn't want to leave, because she'd been here first, dammit, but she didn't really want an audience as she tried out a new skill either.

Crowley's entrance settled the question for her. "Ah, already here, are you?" he said upon seeing her. "Excellent."

"Why?" Devi asked, immediately suspicious. Crowley was in too good of a mood for her liking.

"Just something I wanted to run by you," he told her. "You see, this fight with Abbadon, I was planning on sending you in with backup, of course, several of my best at hand-to-hand." He nodded towards the demons.

"How generous of you," she tartly, "but I work alone."

"And since you know perfectly well how unwise that would be in this situation, I appreciate your flexibility in making an exception," he replied smoothly. "But the lads are unfamiliar with how you fight, and something as high stakes as this confrontation is hardly the time to learn. So, I thought we might have a bit of a sparring session, just so you lot can get a feel for each other."

Devi gave him a long look as she crossed the room to stand in front of him. "Are you out of your everlovin' mind?" she asked him quietly. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and she went on, "I thought I wasn't supposed to antagonize your 'boys.'"

"And I thought you said they need to know you can take care of yourself," he countered, a little smuggly.

"One more little test, just to 'be sure'?" she asked acidly. "Do I still have to prove myself to you?"

"Not me, darling," he nodded at the demons again. "Them. If you're going to lead them into battle, you need to earn, well, not their respect – that's likely out of reach, at this point – but teach them regard for your teeth, at least. Always keeping in mind that I'd prefer them all to be alive at the end of this, of course."

"You're not leaving me a whole lot of options," she growled at him.

Turning back to the center of the room, she took a slow, deep breath, swallowing her irritation and steadying herself. Maybe she should just embrace the opportunity. She was still riled by Kelson's actions earlier that week, and Crowley had just handed her a chance to get out some frustration out on a silver platter. She smiled wickedly at the thought, then stepped into the middle of the matted area, schooling her expression into something more harmless.

"What do you think, guys?" she asked them, keeping her tone light. "Weapons, or should we start off with just hand-to hand?"

She saw smirks pass between Crowley's fighters; the arrogant asses thought this was going to be easy. One gave her a patronizing smile, "Whatever you like, little lady."

Oh, that was it. She returned his smile, not a hair warmer, and answered sweetly, "Why don't we start without? Wouldn't want to overcomplicate things for you." She set the staff down and sent it rolling to edge of the mat with her foot. It probably wasn't her smartest move – she had far less experience fighting unarmed – but it was worth it for the look on the demon's face.

His comrades spread out around the room, setting themselves four-square around her. She rolled her shoulders, settling into a ready stance, eyes half-closed as she focused her other senses. She heard the bamboo matting crackle softly as the one behind her stepped forward, felt the shift in the air as his foot passed harmlessly over her ducked head. Not even looking, she kicked straight back, her leg shooting out like a piston to drive the fighter back several steps. She didn't even set her foot down before swinging it to the side, slamming against the ribs of the demon to her right as he charged her. Pivoting to face him had turned her back to another, who looped his broad arm around her neck, tightening on her throat. Devi grabbed his elbow and shoulder, shifted her hip against him and threw him head over heels onto his back in front of her.

The demon who'd spoken to her moved forward last, more controlled than the others had been. He came at her in a tight, guarded boxing stance, sending out a series of quick punches, switching hands and angles with practiced ease. Devi swayed on her feet, weaving out of the way for most of the strikes, blocking others. Even so, he managed to get in a smart jab that bloodied her lip, as well as a glancing blow from his left hook that still struck her side with enough force to bruise. In the meantime, his friends had all picked themselves back up.

There wasn't time to plan, to think. The moves flowed smoothly into each other, nerves and muscles twitching in unlearned responses that felt as natural as breathing. She found herself noticing things without meaning to, little shifts in stance or subtle glances that told her where they would be next as she kept moving, circling, dancing out of their way. She'd picked out which of the four demons was the least competent, and kept maneuvering herself so that he was between her and his allies, making it harder for the more effective fighters to reach her. Every moment was dangerous, every second an inch from disaster: one misstep, and they would all have her. It was exhilarating. Sure, some of their hits got through, and they hurt, but she was holding her own, giving as good as she got.

Evasion was working, but it couldn't last; she would tire before they did. She had to put them down. She focused her attacks, aiming at weak points, joints and pressure points. One of them went down with a snarl as she kicked his knee out from under him. His leg was at an odd angle when he got up, and he moved with a limp, but he was still coming. Meanwhile the boxer had gotten impatient, throwing himself bodily into his next strike. She sidestepped and drove three swift, hard punches under his outstretched arm, pounding her knuckles into the meat of his shoulder. He jumped back, grimacing as he shook his arm, clenching and unclenching his fist. A third demon grabbed at her wrists, trying to draw her into a grapple. She shook him off, grabbing his shoulders in turn and pulling him downward as she drove her knee into his stomach. As he bowed forward further, gasping in pain, she hiked her knee up again, this time into his nose.

She turned to deal with the last of the four, only to feel a long, hard something slam against her cheek, snapping her head to the side. It took a second for the sting of the blow to register, but it made her eyes water when it did. She shook her head, which was ringing from where the whatever-it-was connected with her temple. Looking back, she saw the final demon grinning wickedly at her, two of the shorter rattan sticks held in his hands. "Thought it was about time to bring weapons into it," he gloated. "You don't mind, do ya?"

Devi grinned back at him fiercely. "Not at all," she replied and bolted towards the edge of the mat where she'd rolled her staff.

Someone grabbed her ankle, causing her to crash to the floor on her stomach, but one end of the staff was just in reach. She seized it, twisting around and swinging the full length to clip the demon clinging to her leg cleanly across the face. She swung it again as she sat up, but the boxer leapt over it, landing with a foot on either side of her. He took hold of the staff as she held it across herself, his hands to the outside of hers, and pushed her back down, pinning her against the floor. He leaned on the staff heavily, inching it towards her throat.

"Got in a bit over your head, have you?" he smirked down at her, his black eyes shining as he knelt astride her, settling his weight across her hips. "Lucky me: I got the best seat in the house to see you get put in your place."

Devi snarled at him and pushed back on the staff with all her might, but she was at a bad angle and he had the advantage of gravity on his side.

He grinned wider, leaning closer as he chuckled lowly, "You're out of your depth here, little girl. You should have stayed home with mommy and daddy."

As he leaned down, Devi abruptly release one end of the staff and seized the demon on top of her around the throat. She planted one foot on the floor, leveraging herself up to buck him off over her head. She held on to both him and the staff, curling in on herself to somersault along with him, landing with him on his back and her on top, a knee jammed against his sternum. She pushed off his chest to stand, winding him, and wrapped both hands around one end of the staff to swing it in a stinging arc across his face.

"Still enjoying the view?" she panted, holding her staff at the ready.

He dabbed at the blood streaming from his nose, glaring at her, "You little...

"Aw, look, you and your buddies match," she went on carelessly as the other fighters came forward, having armed themselves from the rack of rattan sticks. Two of them also had bloody noses. She nodded at the one who didn't, "C'mere, you don't want to get left out, do you?"

The demon glared at her, tossing one of the longer staffs to the boxer as the latter got to his feet. "You're gonna be sorry you tangled with us," he snarled. "You won't be so pretty when we're done with you."

He and his comrades came at her in tandem, two armed with the shorter escrima sticks and two using long staffs like hers. They held them like quarter-staffs, and Devi managed to keep them at bay by holding her own weapon at one end, hands widely spaced, wielding it as if it was a very long sword. If things were less tense, she might have appreciated how quickly she could use the lighter weapon, how easy it was to send the far end whistling into her foes. As it was, she was having a hard time not getting caught in the middle of them. Targeting the one who's knee she'd damaged, she managed to break through again, but took several blows to her arm and back in doing so.

She stumbled back a step, regained her footing and held her stance. This was getting serious. Surely, Crowley would put a halt to it if things got out of hand. She stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye as the four lesser demons regrouped. He was watching the proceedings with hooded eyes, a tiny, enigmatic twist in the corner of his mouth.

No – no, he damn well won't stop it, she realized, because if she couldn't handle a squad of his goons, she'd be useless against Abbadon. Devi shifted her focus back to her opponents, two of whom were moving to flank her, and gritted her teeth. Fine, then we'll do this the hard way, she decided.

The two demons with short sticks came at her from either side, with the boxer driving straight up the middle between them. He jabbed his staff at her like a spear, managing to get one strike through her defenses and ram the staff's end into her shoulder. Devi gave ground, drawing them towards the wall. She sensed movement behind her, glanced back, and registered the fourth fighter taking a sweep at her legs in time to jump over it; his staff cracked audibly into his ally's shin instead. The struck demon let out a bellow of pain, turning to his comrade with a snarl and a curse. His distraction gave Devi the chance to ram the butt of her staff against his jaw, just below the ear, and his eyes rolled back as he dropped to the floor.

The demon who'd initially struck him wheeled to her, wielding his staff over his head and slamming it downward with both hands. Devi dodged at the last minute, his staff connected with only floor, and she ruthlessly brought her own weapon down on the back of his lowered skull. He dropped, but only to his hands and knees; he glanced up at her just before the other end of her staff caught him under his chin in an uppercut strong enough to knock him over backwards.

Something dropped past her vision, and she looked down to see another staff held across her chest. The boxer had stepped up behind her, drawing his staff in to pin her against his chest as his only remaining ally came at her from the front, wielding his two short sticks. Devi put all her focus into deflecting his attacks, trying to ignore the boxer's staff tightening across her chest, making it hard to breathe. When the attacking demon's shorter weapons brought him close enough, she leapt up, throwing her weight against the boxer and planting both feet under the other demon's ribs. He stumbled back. As she landed, she struck backwards with her staff twice, once low against the boxer's knee, and again over her shoulder into his face. His hold on her loosened momentarily. She dropped her own staff, catching it on her foot, and grabbed his staff with both hands, ducking forward to flip him over her head.

His ally leapt back as he came crashing down, then charged forward again. Devi kicked the staff she'd dropped up towards his face. He knocked it to the side and kept coming, but in the second he was distracted, Devi propped the head of the stolen staff in her hands against the floor and slammed her foot down on it, breaking off the end at an angle. She rushed to meet her final foe, and he let out a ragged scream as she thrust the jagged point through his chest, driving it straight on into the wall behind him. He tugged at the spar, letting out a whimper, but couldn't draw it out.

Devi stepped back, breathing heavily. She glanced down at the boxer where he lay on his back, looking up at her with wide eyes. The staff Devi had dropped lay between them, and she eyed it meaningfully, "Satisfied, or do we need to go again?"

She heard the matting rustle behind her and dropped instinctively, seizing the staff and whirling it up to face the new threat. She heard the wood land against steel, and froze.

Crowley was standing calmly in front of her, one arm raised to block her strike with his angel blade. His head was tilted to one side in curiosity, but his expression was sober and his eyes gave away nothing.

Devi took as quick step back.

"Are we not going to dance?" he offered coolly, shifting out of his ready stance.

She flicked her eyes to either side, noting where the other demons stood, having hauled themselves to their feet. They were holding back, waiting to see what would come of this strange turn of events. She swallowed, then straightened, squaring her shoulders.

"When that fight comes," she said softly, but distinctly, "I think I can pick better ground than this." She handed him the staff and gave a stiff bow of her head, one eyebrow quirked ironically, before brushing by him.

Crowley watched her leave, then chuckled softly as he tucked the angel blade back in his coat. "Well, lads?" he turned to the remaining demons, tapping his palm with one end of the staff.

"She was afraid of you," the boxer ventured, "wasn't she?" He had stepped over to help his ally pull the broken spar out of his chest, looking from the bloodstained wood to his leader. "She was ready to fight the four of us, armed or not, but you step in and..."

"She has some sense," Crowley replied with a little shrug. There was no need to emphasize his victory. The demon had drawn the desired conclusion: he and his fellows all looking at their King with varying degrees of awe. Now was the time to lay down the law.

"Having her here serves my purpose," Crowley declared. "She's a tool – a dangerous one, I'll grant you – but you leave that to me. Once the Usurper has been dealt with, I will see to her. In the meantime," he glared at the four lesser demons before him, "she is not to be touched. Is that clear?"

All four nodded dumbly. None of them seemed eager to initiate hostilities with the seer, even without Crowley's warning. Her holding her own against them had made its own impression. Crowley gave an approving nod, and gestured the four out of the training room. He gave one last satisfied look around before stepping out himself, dropping the staff on the weapons rack as he did so.

"Did that go as you intended?" The seer's caustic voice came from behind the open door as he exited to the hall.

Crowley pulled it closed to see her leaning against the wall behind it with an acerbic expression on her face. "Eavesdropping, are we?" he asked her. "That's a nasty habit, darling."

She snorted softly, idly picking dried blood off her lip.

He narrowed his eyes at the red mark on her cheek. "Go find Fierro, have him look you over," he sighed, "make sure you haven't broken anything."

She frowned at him, "I thought Fierro does wards."

"He does, but he also moonlights as an EMT," Crowley explained. "If he finds anything that might cause problems down the road, Fletcher should be able to speed up the healing process."

"You didn't answer my question," she repeated. "Did that go as you intended?"

"More or less," he allowed with a shrug, "That should keep them out of you hair, now that your reputation is cemented."

"As is yours," she pointed out, and Crowley cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "As the only thing that can protect them from big, bad me."

Crowley scrutinized her sharply, but finally allowed himself a slow smirk. "Well, of course, darling," he acknowledged, before turning and sauntering down the hall with just a hint of spring in his step.

Happy Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Winter Solstice/Hogmanay/Year-End Holiday of your preference, readers! I hope you enjoyed this completely unthemed chapter, and look forward to seeing you in the New Year!