Castiel did not know where he could find Crowley. He knew Crowley was somewhere in the city, but he had no address. But Crowley was a powerful man and even mentioning his name to the street might attract his attention, if not elicit a reaction in the people that have heard his name and had a hard time suppressing their first reaction. And the word might go around that someone was looking for him. And Crowley might just show himself.
Luckily, he had some help. Claire wanted to help him out, which he was grateful for. Unfortunately, this help had not helped him out on the streets. So far, he only had people walking away from him as soon as he mentioned the name or telling him off, saying he should not want to know or that he should be careful, or saying him it should not be his business.
He had not had any luck with the latest person he talked to, which was an old lady. Castiel had thanked her, for she genuinely did not seem to know Crowley and he did not want to keep her occupied for longer than necessary. He remained on the street along with Claire and looked around. The few people who were outside on this street had already been questioned.
This was the fourth street where they had asked. This was the fourth street that yielded no result. While Castiel knew it was going to take time to get to Crowley, he was starting to get impatient. He needed to fulfill his plan, he didn't want to waste time on the streets. He wanted to go to angel HQ and finish it. But not without Crowley's help.
"Is this really the best way to go about it?" Claire asked. She would prefer to look for Crowley instead of asking people where he might be.
"I believe it is."
"None of them know Crowley. They're too afraid."
"I am aware," Castiel said, "but when his name is mentioned, others listen." Their nervous looks and anxious behavior proved as much. When these people turned around, others were watching and listening to every word that was said.
"Really?"
"We will not be able to walk to his house and knock on the front door," Castiel said. "Someone in his employ will have to take us to him."
"What?" She had not expected this answer and thus, was not prepared for this method. She feared the goons may be too hands-on and wouldn't take them to Crowley.
"He is a secretive man," Castiel explained. "He's on the angel hitlist. He does not want to be found." He still searched for others to talk to. "If we want to talk to him, he needs to want to talk to us. That's why I believe this will draw his attention."
"So we can reach him," Claire finished Castiel's thoughts, and he nodded.
"Correct."
And so, they continued their quest to draw attention to themselves looking for Crowley, so they could finally speak to him. They went to three more streets and many more conversations later, they found someone who was not afraid to discuss Crowley.
"Follow me," the man they had approached said. "I can give you more information."
Castiel and Claire shared a look and followed the man. He led them down several streets, in the direction of a black van. On their left, there was a dead-end that reeked of rotten eggs, coming from the loaded dumpsters. Two men stepped out of the van and the man Castiel and Claire had talked to now blocked their way back.
They did not speak. They cuffed Castiel and Claire and pulled a bag over their heads. Castiel allowed this to happen while Claire did not like this approach and resisted it. Either way, she and Castiel were ushered into the black van. The motor started soon after and they drove out of the neighborhood, presumably on their way to Crowley.
They drove for what Castiel estimated to be half an hour, going everywhere and nowhere. They made many twists and turns to the left and right, no way of knowing where exactly Crowley's hide-out was based on the starting location of the van.
Someone grabbed Castiel and Claire – she did not resist this time – and made them exit the van. Castiel almost hit the ground. They were told not to speak, while the world around them was silent. They crossed the street, stepped onto a sidewalk into a house that must be old. The air inside was musty (the windows were probably never opened) and the small stairs creaked dangerously. On the top floor, the flooring was also creaking, though not as much as the stairs. They were made to sit on uncomfortable wooden chairs. Their arms were placed behind the chair and tied down. Crowley would take no risks with their prisoners.
At long last, the bags were taken off of their heads. They were blinded by a bright light shining directly on them. Two buff men stood on either side of Castiel and Claire, to ensure they wouldn't try anything funny. Once their eyes were adjusted to the light, they could see the room, the attic from which many operations were lead. A desk with a long chair stood in the center of the attic with no windows. This attic was decorated in a dark style that seemed too expensive to fit into a house that was as old as the creaking staircase suggested.
Even the door creaked when it opened. A man with black hair in a black suit walked in, an indifferent look on his face. He strolled closer to his prisoners, his hands in his pockets. When he approached, Castiel sensed the energy coming from him. This was definitely Crowley.
"I've heard you were looking for me," Crowley said. He was not impressed. This might be part of a routine, interrogating people who were looking for him, the way he seemed so used to this. He did not specifically look at either Claire or Castiel, but he did wait for an explanation.
"We need your help," Castiel said. Before he could explain the situation, Crowley interrupted.
"Evidently," he said. "Otherwise the likes of you wouldn't be here." He sat down behind his desk and from this position, he stared at his visitors. Mostly at Castiel – he must be sensing the same energy that Castiel had sensed in him. If he'd followed the news, he'd know Castiel should not be alive anymore, and neither should any resistance member.
But they were alive, so Crowley may be interested.
"Tell me," Crowley asked, "what do you want from me?"
"We need you to be a distraction," Claire responded before Castiel could provide the necessary information. Castiel shot a glance at her and then looked at Crowley, who was just staring in surprise.
"Really?" he sounded amused and interested. His indifference from before seemed to have melted away. "I suppose there's more to it than a distraction."
Castiel nodded. "You just need to be the distraction. I plan to storm the angels' headquarters and preferably kill Michael and Zachariah."
What little interest he had faded away. He stood up and stared Castiel in the eye, only disappointment on his face.
"Let me give you some free advice," he said. "You don't want to fight. It will result in your death."
The advice probably stemmed from the fact that they had both fallen and lived long enough not to be converted back or to be killed by the people they would have once called their family. Castiel nodded when he heard this.
"I am well aware of the consequences," Castiel said. He hoped his confidence would convince Crowley somehow. "You cannot talk me out of it. This is something that I have to do. You could—"
"Shut up," Crowley interrupted Castiel. Castiel promptly shut his mouth and waited for Crowley's answer. With one look at Claire, Castiel noticed the doubt in her eyes.
Crowley leaned in closer towards them and stared at them.
"I will not assist you in your suicide mission," Crowley announced, "I have better things to do."
Castiel tried to stand up before Crowley could leave the room. Crowley's henchman pushed him down and forced him to remain seated.
"You have the power to help overthrow the angels," Castiel said. He was not angry, just curious and disappointed by Crowley's choices. "Why aren't you doing anything?"
"Why do you think I've survived so bloody long?"
Castiel was unable to answer, though the answer was clear.
"See them out," Crowley then said. He turned his back to him and Claire and while he walked out of the room, his henchmen pulled the bags over Castiel and Claire's heads. They untied the prisoners and lead them back into the van.
Castiel and Claire were thrown out on a sidewalk. The handlers pulled the bags off of their heads, uncuffed them and then drove away again. The van had no license plate to remember and soon it was gone, leaving Castiel and Claire to pick up the pieces.
They hadn't been in this street before – to minimize the risk of being found out, they were just dropped off somewhere that was not where they had been picked up. Life moved on in the street; some people shot distrustful looks in their direction, but they did not approach nor did they stare for too long. Not their problem. They did not know Claire and Castiel had been rejected by Crowley.
But their plans were not going to change in the slightest.
"What do we do now?" Claire asked. Castiel already had time to think about this. It had a simple answer, one Castiel had kept in mind just in case Crowley would reject them, as just happened.
"You're not going in there without back-up, are you?" Claire then wondered. He shook his head in response.
"I have a plan B."
"Well, what is it?"
"More of a last resort," Castiel responded. He turned his head to Claire. "Come on. We're going to the hospital."