'I'll pay for it,' Crowley insisted as he led the way to the Hilton on Michigan Avenue. He happily swung his bag of gift store swag by his side. 'I need to sleep somewhere clean, and you will benefit from it as well.'

'You sayin' Bobby's house ain't clean?' Dean dodged around a small crowd of tourists and waved off another panhandler. He folded the pamphlet from the exhibition and stuffed it in his pocket. He hated to admit it, but Crowley actually had good taste, and the curator he'd been introduced to was interesting and passionate. It was just what he needed after speaking with Death.

'Have you seen the state of the walls? The floors? The bloody ceilings?!' Crowley hissed as he spun on Dean. 'There are literal blood spots on the ceilings!'

'This coming from a demon.'

'I have standards! You may enjoy frolicking with the lower classes, but I do not.'

'I know where you came from, Fergy.'

'Then you know how far I've risen,' he said as he continued walking.

'Fine, but I ain't staying in the same room as you.'

'Perish the thought.'

'Whatever. I'm runnin' this ring to Bobby. Be back in sec.'

'Your room will be under your name.'

Dean took off as he was surrounded by a cluster of tourists crossing the road. He landed in Bobby's kitchen and smiled apologetically when Bobby jumped and slammed his beer on the table.

'How many times?! Use the damned porch!'

'I'll paint a landing strip. Anyway, I got you a souvenir,' Dean said as he held up Death's ring.

'And you ditched the demon. Good job,' Bobby said as he leaned across the table and took the ring to examine it.

'No, I'm stuck babysitting the princess. Your couch ain't good enough for him,' Dean said with a laugh.

Bobby gave him a look.

'Yeah, I could just leave 'im there, but he's convenient to have under my thumb.'

'Yer lyin' to yerself if you think that's the only reason you're helping him.'

'Okay, so I have shitty taste in friends. You never had a shitty friend?'

'None that ever tricked people into selling their souls.'

Dean gestured to himself. 'So we ain't friends?'

'We're family, ya' idjit.'

Dean shrugged, wishing Bobby had something like an angel's Grace to interact with. Some concepts just didn't have words.

Bobby sighed and nodded. 'Yeah. I get it. I'll let everyone know.'

'Thanks. I get to stay in a nice hotel. Probably in the smallest room facing an alley, but hey. Room service.'

'Pity Cas can't join you.'

'Thanks for bringin' me down off my high.'

'According to you, that's what friends are for,' Bobby said as he raised his beer in a salute.

.-.-.-.-.

Dean landed back in Chicago and took a quick jaunt around the park before making his way to the hotel. He passed tourists, buskers, panhandlers, and even an old school the-world-is-ending crier. He laughed to himself as he walked by the man.

When Dean claimed his cardkey from the front desk, he was surprised to find his room on the twentieth floor. He was more surprised when he saw he had a view of the lake. He settled in and checked out the room service menu, figuring if Crowley wasn't paying for it, then at least it would be cheaper than the room.

A few hours later, Dean had managed to get himself and his wings into a comfortable position on the bed. He was thoroughly enjoying himself as he caught up on the latest episode of Doctor Sexy when he felt the presence of an angel in the lobby of the hotel. Immediately, he hid his wings and shoved his Grace deep beneath his human facade. He threw all his surface attention on the show as he tracked the angel.

Dean didn't have to feign his shock when Zachariah appeared at the foot of his bed. 'The fuck are you doing here?! How'd you find me?'

Zachariah waved a hand at Dean. 'Oh, your little sigils may have given us some problems, but that's nothing our agents on the ground can't fix,' he jovially replied.

Dean slowly got off the bed, keeping an eye on Zachariah. 'What, you're actually stooping to working with humans?'

Zachariah sighed dramatically. 'It's not ideal, and some of these fringe Christians are a piece of work,' he admitted. 'But, hey! Some inspirational messages, drop them a photo of you, and now we've got our own CCTV starring you!'

'Right. You here to convince me to let Michael in?'

Zachariah laughed and shook his head. 'Not exactly. I'm here to show you what will happen if you continue to be an obstinate little monkey.'

Dean forced himself to remain standing before Zachariah as he advanced. He flinched as fingers pressed against his forehead, and he felt false memories being implanted. The vision of the 'future' was believable enough, constructed around his own memories of the people he had already met and his human life. It started off entertaining—especially the depiction of Castiel. He couldn't wait to share the false memory. But the moment he had encountered Lucifer residing in Sam, it all fell apart.

It wasn't Lucifer. Not his Lucifer. It was just a bad copy made from Zachariah's passing encounters. And probably his own opinions as to why humans shouldn't be saved.

Zachariah's smile faded as Dean's frown deepened, catching a glimpse of rage boiling beneath the surface.

'How dare you use my brother against me,' Dean hissed. He drew his wings out and spread them wide as he pressed his full power against Zachariah. Dark, light, and everything in-between. 'Did you really think that would work? On me?!'

Zachariah stumbled back, eyes wide. 'S-Seraphiel! How—?!'

'Ready for round two?' Dean asked with a murderous grin. He gave a harsh flap and stepped forward, revealing his blade. 'Remember, Dad ain't around to tell me not to fight back,' he said.

'Impossible!' Zachariah backed against the wall and angled his wings in a defensive posture. 'Why would that monkey let you in and not Michael?!'

'I'm the Great Manipulator,' Dean declared, spreading his arms wide. 'I did what Michael couldn't. The rules have changed, Zach. The Plan has changed. Earth is my domain.' Dean paused and grinned at the panicked messages running back and forth across Angel Radio. Confirmation that his blade was missing. Refusals to provide backup. And finally, Michael's call for Zachariah to get out of there and report back. 'Besides, don't you think Dad woulda stopped me if He cared?'

Zachariah looked from the blade to Dean and fled.

In an instant, Dean was left alone in the room. He dropped onto the bed and buried his face in his hands. He wrapped his wings around himself as tightly as he could manage, reminding himself they were intact. He was unharmed, and Zachariah could no longer hurt him. He took a small bit of comfort in the fear he had managed to instill in Zachariah.

He unfolded himself and stared at the wall in shock. He had just revealed himself to Zachariah. Michael knew. Heaven knew. The instant silence on Angel Radio after Michael gave his order was evidence enough of that. He had to get out of there and find somewhere to hide before they reorganized. He wouldn't be able to go back to Bobby's. It would be the first place they would look. For a brief moment, he contemplated shacking up with Lucifer.

He flitted over to Crowley's room and blanked at the scene before him.

Crowley laid stretched out on his bed, wearing a lightweight dressing gown, and humming along to Chopin. On his face was a facemask and actual cucumbers.

'Dude! The hell is on your face?!'

Crowley jolted up and looked around in shock before throwing one of the cucumber slices at Dean. 'I was relaxing, if you don't mind!'

'I don't care. We gotta go.'

Crowley eyed Dean in suspicion. 'What did you do, Seraphiel?'

'Blew my cover, what do you think? You coming or not?'

'As if I have a choice,' he grumbled as he got out of bed and grabbed his shopping bag.

'Your house is still angel proofed, right?'

'One would hope, but there are apparently cracks.'

'I mean normal angels.' He texted Meg, telling her to let Lucifer know that the old systems were now compromised. He sent the same message to Gabriel and Castiel. 'It's the safest place for me right now, and safest place for you is with me. Got it?'

'I see… No rearranging my furniture?'

'What? No!' He held out his hand. 'I know you hate it. I hate it, too. And this landing's gonna be rough.'

His phone rang. He sighed in relief at seeing Castiel's name on the ID. 'I'm fine. Call you back in a sec. Getting somewhere safe,' he said before hanging up. He looked back and Crowley and shoved his hand forward again. 'Well?'

Crowley looked mournfully at his room service and sighed. He grabbed Dean's hand.

The landing was just as rough as Dean had promised. They stumbled and almost fell onto an eviscerated corpse being chewed on by a hellhound in the middle of a ransacked entryway.

Crowley dropped his bag and closed the open doors before crouching beside the hound and cooing adoringly. 'Look who's a good boy. Did you miss daddy? Daddy missed you.' He looked around the entry with a grimace. 'I'm loath to admit it, but I may need to invest in some devil's traps.'

'Damn, he got big,' Dean said, watching in disgust as the hound licked the facemask off Crowley.

'I hear a diet of demons can be nourishing.'

Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled his phone out. 'Ain't happenin'.' He dialed Castiel's number.

'Dean! What happened? Everything is silent!'

'Yeah, sorry. This is all my fault. I kinda freaked out on Zach. I'm… I'm fine, though,' he said, hoping his tone would be enough to comfort Castiel. 'I'm uh…shacking up at Crowley's for now, so no visiting angels. Sorry.'

'At least you're safe. But Dean...the resurrection… Sam says it's your younger brother. Adam Milligan?'

'Wait. Who?! You gotta be shitting me. Damnit. Same bloodline.' Dean ran his hand through his hair as he paced. 'Fuck. Keep an eye on him. He might be a backup body, so convince him not to agree to Michael.'

'We'll do our best. Be safe.'

'You, too,' he said and hung up. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck!'

'Sounds like someone is exploiting a loophole,' Crowley said as he stood and transformed his dressing gown into his preferred suit.

'Yeah, and it ain't me. Shit. Then why did Zach…?' His thought was cut off by his phone ringing. 'Sam!'

'Dean, Cas said you revealed yourself! What is going on?'

'Between Zach's little future vision and our zombie brother—'

Crowley mouthed 'zombie brother' in confusion.

'—Michael's gunning for my consent, and hard.'

'Future vision?'

Dean snorted. 'Yeah, you were Lucifer. It was like a bad soap opera, and everything was my fault 'cuz I won't cooperate with dickheads.'

'Okay… Then why bring Adam back?'

'You really think I'd let Mike take a ride in that kid? Seraphiel, yeah, but Dean? Damn sure they were counting on me taking the bullet, but that kid is still a viable emergency generator.' He stilled as Crowley's hellhound bumped against him. Distractedly, he patted the hound's head.

'So what are we gonna do?'

'I dunno. I'll figure it out. Be safe. And…' He took a deep breath. 'You know I love you, right?'

'Of course I know. Dean, you're kinda scaring me.'

'Yeah, well, get in line, 'cuz I'm scared shitless.' They said a quick goodbye, and Dean sighed heavily as he stared at his phone. He let out a reluctant laugh as the hound snuffled at his pockets. 'Sorry, pal. All outta Scooby Snacks.'

'I knew you were bribing him,' Crowley said, sniffing in disapproval.

Dean tucked his phone in his pocket and scratched the hound behind both ears. 'It's only because no one feeds this poor, starving puppy.' He grinned as the hound's but wiggled in happy excitement.

Crowley grimaced as he looked around the entry in dismay. 'I would hire some cleaners, but I can't risk the attention.'

'What's one more favor?' Dean asked lightly.

Crowley stared at him for a minute before turning away. 'I'll get a broom.'