Marian studied her reflection in the mirror. She'd lost a little weight, most of it muscle, since she'd seen her friends. And she was paler, since she'd only been out in the sun for two days: the whiteness really made the hickeys stand out more. Fantastic. She could have put makeup on to look a little less like death, but she knew she was going to cry it all off anyway, so there really wasn't any point.

"Ready?" Crowley asked, appearing behind her.

She spun around, startled. "Yeah."

Her skin tingled and her stomach flip-flopped, and now they were standing in an alley along a row of shops. All the stores were decorated for Christmas, and people hurried from one spot to another, bundled up against the cold New England winter.

"Ten o'clock," Crowley reminded her.

"Where do I—"

"I'll find you." He drew her closer and kissed her forehead. "Be good." And he vanished.

Marian stepped onto the sidewalk and followed the sound of bells to the church. People were still going inside, and she hesitated: What would they think when they saw her? Most of these people were strangers to her: Michael's friends and family from his non-hunting life. They were the reason for the church service. Michael knew God didn't give a shit about him, but he knew that his family's spirituality was important to them and went along with it.

She spotted Erica walking with two other hunters she'd worked with before, and hurried over to catch her before she disappeared inside.

"Erica!"

Erica stopped dead in her tracks, jaw dropping and eyes bulging. The other hunters looked at Erica, then at Marian, remembered the story they'd been told about her, and adopted similar expressions.

Marian saw Erica's hand move as she approached, and expected what came next. She shut her eyes as her friend threw a flask of holy water in her face, then wiped herself off with her sleeve.

"Yup. Not a demon." She rolled a sleeve up and held her forearm out for the next test. "Go ahead."

Eyeing her suspiciously, Erica pulled a silver knife out of her pocket and made a tiny cut just above her wrist.

"Not a shifter."

Erica handed her a handkerchief to wrap around the cut and took a step back. "You didn't kill Crowley, or I'd be dead. So what are you doing here?"

"I read about Mi—I read about him in the paper," she said, suddenly unable to say his name without choking up. "Crowley, he…He brought me here. I have eight hours and then I have to go back."

Her fellow hunters bristled. "He's here?" the taller woman, Sarah, said.

"Not anymore." She pulled the coin out to show them. "I have to wear this. He can hear everything around me, so don't…Don't talk near me if you don't want him to listen. He can track me with it, too."

"Well I have a few things I'd like to say to him," Erica said, puffing up her chest.

Marian covered the coin with her fist and took a step back. She could see her friend revving up for a rant about how evil demons were and how the king of the crossroads was, in particular, an asshole, and all the things she would do to torture and kill him if he ever let his guard down.

"Not right now," Marian pled. "Please, I just…I just want to see you guys, and say goodbye to Michael, and…And not talk about me."

Erica sighed. "Fine." She narrowed her eyes. "What happened to your neck? Are those…Ohmygod!"

Marian's hand flew up to cover the hickeys. "We're not talking about me."

"But—but—shit, are you…Are you okay?"

Shut up, Erica. I didn't want to cry about me, I wanted to cry about Michael. "'M fine," she snapped, slipping the coin back under her shirt.

Erica took her arm and the four of them walked together into the church.

They joined other hunters inside. Every time a new hunter approached, there was the same quick and embarrassing discussion about how Marian was there and whether or not she was possessed or otherwise not herself. There were more than a few sidelong glances at her neck, but only her closest friends were bold enough to bring it up. She breathed a sigh of relief when the service started and everyone settled down.

Michael's mother spoke, as did his sister (his father had passed away years ago, and his brother was killed by a shapeshifter). Then his hunter friend Keith got up, and delivered a touching eulogy that spoke to his sacrifices as a hunter without coming right out and saying that he hunted demons as a career (since not everyone present was aware of the supernatural world, and this was certainly not the time to enlighten them). Marian cried through most of the service, composing herself for the traditional 'coffee hour' that followed: There was coffee, tea, punch (non-alcoholic, though many hunters brought their own flasks), and a variety of little snacky foods that churches always seemed to have on hand, like those little dry butter cookies that came in tins. She spoke briefly to Michael's family but mostly stayed by Erica's side. It was a bit overwhelming, really, being out among 'normal' people without Crowley. She kept glancing over her shoulder to check in with him, and every time someone brushed past her, put their hand on her shoulder, or went to hug her, she would tense up.

Their friend David (one of the hunters who was part of the 'deal') found them and did a double-take at seeing Marian, but Erica nodded reassuringly and he seemed to accept that all was well. He informed them that the hunters were going to have their own hunter-style wake at a local pub. There would be real deep-fried food and copious amounts of alcohol.

David caught up with her on the walk to the pub, where it was just her, Erica, and their friend Rachel. The group was moving slowly because Rachel was on crutches as a result of her last hunt.

"So are you going to fill me in, or what?" he asked, falling into step with the group.

Marian made a face and looked at Erica; her friend gave a brief synopsis of how and why she was back with them.

"But we're not talking about me tonight," Marian reminded them.

"Hold on, I think we should talk about you a little," David countered. "Like why your neck is all…"

"Hickeyed?" Rachel suggested.

Marian stopped and turned on them, murder in her eyes. "Why do you think," she snarled.

David took a step back, looking hurt.

She sighed and turned on her heel, falling back into step. "I'm sorry. It's just, I only have a few hours with you guys, and I don't want to spend them talking about—about me." She felt a sudden wave of emotion and felt like she was about to burst into tears. She started walking faster so that the others couldn't see her face.

Erica took her hand, slowing her down, and squeezed it. "It's okay. We're all here for you, Marian."

"We're not going to judge you," Rachel said. "What you did—the choice you made—that was really brave of you. I'm not sure I could have done the same thing."

"I appreciate what you did," David added. "Believe me, I'm happy to be alive. But I also would have understood if you couldn't…If you chose to let us die. I know we act all noble as hunters and talk about sacrificing for the greater good, but I don't know many people that could have done what you did. I mean, we're not talking about a quick death—you're spending the rest of your life at the mercy of a demon who wants to knock you up with what is essentially the Antichrist. I'd have a hard time choosing a lifetime of torture and rape over death in that case, even if it meant the deaths of thousands more."

Marian cringed.

"Way to bring the mood up, David," Erica muttered.

"I appreciate your…Support," Marian sighed, "But I'm fine. Really. And even if I wasn't fine, I wouldn't tell you, because I don't want you to worry about me."

"But we do worry," Erica said. "What I imagine you have to go through…" She shook her head.

"It's not as bad as you're imagining," Marian replied quickly. "Honest." Evidently, she wasn't going to get away with not talking about herself tonight. She might as well just lay everything out for them. "I live in a house. A normal, not-Hell house. He gets me whatever I want for food, and I've started working out. I have all my things from home—well, except for the weapons and stuff. He's usually out working on deals, so I go through all these different papers and look for supernatural stuff. It keeps me busy."

"…And when he is around?" Erica asked softly. She looked meaningfully at her neck.

"He's not as bad as you'd think." Marian looked away, feeling her face heat up.

"We're here," Rachel said, stopping in front of a large black door.

Marian breathed a sigh of relief. Now they would be surrounded by other hunters, and she could stop being the focus of conversation.

She stayed by Erica, using her friend as a lifeline in the crowded pub. It was packed with hunters, but there were also 'normal' people who seemed a bit appalled to be suddenly surrounded by dozens of flannel-clad men and women in black jeans (for mourning, of course) who looked like they'd just stepped out of an LL Bean ad on steroids. Pool tables were immediately taken over, and it seemed there was a competitive push to see who could get drunk the fastest. Marian had one drink to try and relax a little, but as much as she would have liked to get smashed and forget all her worries, she knew she had to keep an eye on the time and keep an eye out for demons.

She joined a game of Cards Against Humanity that was 10% game and 90% swapping hunt stories, then watched David play pool against a hunter she'd never met before. As the afternoon turned into evening, she settled into a small crowd of her old friends and they shared stories about Michael, which she'd been hoping for all day. Every now and then someone would lean over to Erica and whisper something while glancing at Marian, and Erica would whisper back; as annoying as it was to be talked about behind her back, in front of her, it was better having Erica as a contact person than having to answer their questions herself. It didn't matter if her friend knew the answers to their questions or not; as long as she wasn't the one doing the talking, she was fine with the arrangement.

When she had about an hour left, an unfamiliar hunter approached her group and attempted to strike up a conversation with her.

"It's Marian, right?"

Marian hesitated. "I…"

"I'm Chris. I think we were on a hunt together a couple years ago, in Michigan. Michael was there, too. The hotel that used to be an orphanage, where they'd been Sweeny-Todd-ing the kids?"

"Oh! Right. Sorry, I…I'm not that good at faces."

"That's alright. Listen, I heard about what you had to do back in Mass. Welcome back to the land of the living."

Marian tensed. "I was never actually in Hell…"

"Well, since you're here, you must've found a way out of the contract without all your friends dying; how'd you do it?"

She scooted backwards. "I…Didn't." Something about Chris was rubbing her the wrong way, but she couldn't decide what it was. He was friendly; was that it? He was smiling. Was she so used to people not smiling that it was weird now?

He cocked his head to the side, but his smile remained. "So, what—you're here as a spy?"

Marian felt the coin against her chest and fought back a sudden panic. "I'm—it's—"

Chris laughed. "I'm kidding, relax!" His eyes scrunched up in humor, and for just a moment she could have sworn they turned black. But the bar was dark, and she was…Emotionally overtaxed, to say the least, so it must have been a trick of the light. Besides, a demon would have to have serious balls to show up at a hunter's gathering. Or just really desperate…

Desperate enough to command an army of demons to possess an entire town, she thought.

She had been around Crowley for so long that she didn't notice the smell of sulfur anymore; but she'd spent the day demon-free, so maybe she could notice it now. She inhaled deeply under the guise of yawning: Definitely sulfur here. But could she only smell it because it was on her clothes? Maybe she was being paranoid and crazy. She glanced over at Erica, but her friend was absorbed in a conversation with a handsome older hunter.

"So when does Crowley come to fetch you back to his lair?"

That…Was an odd question from someone she hadn't talked to in years. Or was it? They were all hunters here; conversations were never exactly normal.

"Soon," she replied vaguely.

"Do you have time for another drink? You know, to celebrate your five minutes of freedom?"

"Uh…Probably not."

"That's too bad. If I had to go through what you do, I'd want to be drunk all the time." He picked up his own drink like he was saluting her and took a sip; as he set it back down on the table, he blinked, and this time she knew she saw black for just a split second.

Okay, don't panic, she thought. You're completely unarmed, but you're surrounded by people with holy water, religious relics, and who have memorized more exorcisms than song lyrics. Just stay calm.

She laughed nervously. "Yeah, well, unfortunately someone has to be sober around here." She felt under the table and kicked Erica's leg. "I guess I could have one more drink, though."

Erica looked at her in confusion.

"Sure; what'll it be?"

"Um…Surprise me. Anything but tequila; I'm allergic."

"You got it." He got up and headed over to the bar.

Erica perked up at the code word, now on Red Alert. Her gentleman friend picked up on her alarm and scooted closer.

"Demon," Marian hissed across the table. "Not Crowley's. We need to take him out."

Erica nodded. Then she did something Marian did not expect.

Wobbling a bit, she climbed onto the table and shouted: "Heeeey, everybody! This one goes out to Michael! Sing along if you know the words!"

And she started to sing what was essentially the world's first hunter lullaby, an exorcism set to a catchy tune. Most of the bar started to sing it with her; Marian slid under the table and ran.

Erica tossed her a flask and she unscrewed the top as she moved. She should be safe as long as she stayed in the bar and kept moving; if she stayed in one place for too long, the demon could blink to her and grab her.

There was a scream from the direction of the bar, and the song cut off abruptly. Erica sat down hard, clawing at her throat like she couldn't breathe. All the other hunters had been struck with the same problem.

"You didn't think it would be that easy?" 'Chris' said from right behind her.

She turned to face him, and now his eyes stayed black. "No," she said, "But fuck you anyway." She splashed the holy water in his face and he backed away, growling and pawing at the burns that appeared.

"Bitch," he hissed.

"Yup." She took advantage of his temporary blindness and punched him in the nose, and heard a satisfying crunch. The power he'd held over the other hunters was lifted, and they started to charge toward him. Marian leapt back as he grabbed for her, but she was too slow; he caught her wrist with an iron grip, and they vanished.

She felt her brain bounce in her skull as she landed hard on concrete. The demon still had hold of her wrist with one hand, and his other hand flew to her throat, squeezing hard enough to choke the breath out of her. He dug his knee into the base of her ribs and leaned his weight on it, pinning her down.

Marian bared her teeth like a wild dog, but all she could do was kick her legs uselessly.

"You can't beat me," the demon said. "You're unarmed, and you have no power. Make it easier on yourself and just give up."

She pushed against his chest with her free hand, her lungs screaming for air, and he looked at her curiously, like he was being attacked by a particularly tiny but spirited bunny rabbit.

"Really?" He leaned in closer.

Perfect. She grabbed the collar of his shirt and used his own momentum to pull him down; since he'd been expecting her to push him away again, he was caught off guard and fell into her. Their heads cracked together and Marian rolled, shoving him away and taking in a lungful of air.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiri—"

She was tossed into a wall and held their by the demon's power. Her throat burned: She'd had plenty of sore throats, but this felt like it was literally on fire. She could breathe, but she couldn't make a sound above a little squeak.

"I don't think so," the demon snarled. He flicked his wrist and she landed on her back on the floor again. "I wanted to hear you scream, but I guess we can't have everything, can we?"

She went to attack him and felt his power flow around her arms and legs, holding them down. It felt like there were little demonic ants running over her skin. He stepped over her and looked down.

"I like your spirit, angel. You'd be fun to torture." He sank onto his knees, straddling her. "I can see why Crowley is so attached to you, but you're not his anymore." He leaned in even closer, and for a moment she could see the actual demon inside the meat-suit. "You're mine."

He snapped his fingers and her clothes disappeared.

In a moment of adrenaline-fueled panic, Marian jerked one of her arms out of his power and went to slap him, but she bent her knuckles just enough to claw him like a cat. She knew it wouldn't do any real damage to a demon, but it was still satisfying to feel his skin rip on her nails and see the bloody welts that followed.

Then things went bad.

The demon's eyes went black and he hissed with rage. Her arm was pinned again by his power once more, but now there was no moving it at all.

"That's how you want to play it? Fine. You're just a glorified incubator, bitch. You don't need arms and legs." He raised one hand up. "I do want to hear this."

Her throat loosened, but before she could make a sound she felt the demon's energy wrap around her arms and legs and snap, fracturing the bones.

Marian screamed. It was the kind of sound that started somewhere deep and primal in the soul and kept going right down to the pits of Hell. She'd broken bones on hunts before, but never like this. Never all of them. Something else woke in her, something she'd only felt once before as a human, and it felt like she was being ripped in half.

The demon was tossed across the room but recovered almost instantly. He closed her throat again before she could even think of exorcising him (though all she could think of at the moment was how badly everything hurt), tugged his pants down, and knelt between her broken legs, pushing them apart (which hurt like fucking Hell). She felt like she was going to pass out, but then the demon pushed its energy into her head and she was unbearably awake and present, and she wanted to die.

"Oh, no. You don't get to sleep through this, princess," he growled. "And you don't have enough grace in you to pull that little stunt again."

Grace? That's what happened? She tried to do…Whatever she had done, again, but the demon had been right. Whatever she'd done, it had been completely involuntary, and her body didn't seem inclined to grant her a repeat performance.

"I'm Lester, by the way," the demon said. "You can't scream my name right now, but you will be soon, so you might as well get it into your head."

He jammed his fingers into her and she struggled uselessly. Just trying to move her arms and legs caused stabbing pain to sear across her joints: the harder she tried to fight him, the more it hurt.

He removed his fingers, licked them obscenely, then penetrated her and started jackhammering her like…Well, like a demon. Her back scraped against the concrete floor and the jostling was a nightmare for her broken limbs, which helped distract her from the other pain. In her brief career as a human being, Marian had been shot, stabbed, set on fire, dropped down a manhole, and countless other nasty things, but she'd never dealt with something as personal and intimate as rape. No one had ever been inside her body.

She closed her eyes but the demon forced them open, making her look at him while he fucked her. He was talking to her too, taunting her, but all she could hear was a ringing in her ears: everything was just background noise. She didn't even hear the wall explode behind her.

Suddenly, Lester was ripped away from her. He hit the far wall and struggled against an unseen force.

"Not possible," Lester gasped. "I warded—you aren't strong enough—"

Crowley strode into the room (if four concrete walls and a ceiling could be considered a 'room'), eyes glowing red and trained on the other demon. Marian had never seen him this angry.

He grabbed Lester's shirt in his fist and got right in his face. "Mine," he growled, and they disappeared.

Marian rolled onto her side. Everything hurt, and even the slight turn was so bad that she thought she might pass out, but she felt less exposed than she had on her back. She started to shiver, and the little muscle tremors aggravated her broken bones, and then that pain made her shiver more.

Crowley reappeared moments later, splattered with blood. He knelt down beside her and touched her shoulder gently, porting them both home.

There was a tiny jolt as she appeared on her bed, and it was enough to jostle every little bone fracture she had. She bit her lip hard, turning a scream into a strangled whimper. It appeared that she had her voice back, at least.

Crowley touched her arm and she hissed, trying to pull away from him.

"I know," he said, and all of his anger was gone, replaced by something gentler, something almost human. "I know it hurts, but I can heal you. It's going to be…Very unpleasant, but then you'll be better, alright?"

She nodded, whimpering. She closed her eyes and held her breath as he ran his hand down her arm, feeling the burning tingle of his energy flow through her. As the fractures healed, it felt like they were breaking all over again: she wanted to pull away from him, to tell him to stop, but she knew that moving would only make it worse. Finally, after seconds that felt like minutes, her arm was repaired. He rolled her onto her back to heal the other one, but now she at least had one working hand. She bit down on her fist, which helped a little.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get to you right away," Crowley said as he started to heal her leg. "He set a trap for me—knew where I was going to be, and had all his little minions waiting. Once I finally killed them all, I followed the coin to your location, but he'd warded the place well. Lester was one of the senior demons in charge of torturing; separate from the crossroads, but we'd cross paths occasionally."

Marian resisted the urge to punch him as she felt her femur slide back together. "Then how did you get—" she cut herself off, whimpering as the bones healed all the way down to her ankle.

"The wall cracked, breaking one of the seals." He moved on to the second leg. "You did that—with your grace."

She bit down on her fist again, holding her breath to keep from screaming as the rest of her bones knit back into place. Finally it was over, and she sagged into the mattress, feeling like she could pass right out.

"He got…Knocked back, after he broke my arms an' legs," she mumbled, the words slurring together. She felt a little drunk, but not in a good way. It was like someone else drank the alcohol and she was suffering the side effects. "Felt like I was…" She held up her fists and pulled them apart. "Two people, getting torn up…"

"I assume that was a side effect of your grace activating."

"Didn't do it on purpose."

"No, you wouldn't be able to. The angels would have made sure of that when they sent you to Earth. It reacted on its own, like when you almost drowned as a teenager. Now it's depleted, though, and you'll need time to recharge. In the meantime, you'll be weaker than usual as your body focuses on rebuilding your grace, and you won't heal as you normally would."

Marian winced as Crowley touched her ribs where Lester had dug his knee into her. They were definitely bruised, but with a little tingle of demonic energy they felt better. He started to slide his hand down her stomach, and she whimpered, rolling onto her side into a tight little ball. Even if he was just going to heal her, she didn't want to be touched there again.

"Shh, I know, love," Crowley said softly. He used his free hand to smooth her hair out of her face; his other hand continued to slide down until it was just above her crotch. "You're alright."

Her skin tingled, and she felt the slight burn of his energy flow through her. She was so relieved that he wasn't sticking his fingers in her that she barely registered the feeling like someone had put jalapeno oil up her vagina. It only lasted a moment, anyway, and then the soreness from before was gone. Crowley moved his hand to her back and gently turned her so that he could get a better look at the bruises and scratches she'd sustained there. Those were the least of her injuries, and she barely felt more than a light sting as he healed them.

He snapped his fingers and Marian found herself dressed in her coziest sweatpants (she'd stolen them from Erica years ago) and t-shirt. She rolled onto her side, starting to relax now that she was no longer physically hurting and naked.

Crowley sat up, cocking his head to the side. "Well. Took them long enough." He turned to Marian. "Your little friends are summoning me. I didn't think they'd be clever enough to figure out how."

She ignored the insult to their intelligence. "Which—"

"The pretty one with the big chest, and the male model with the bad teeth."

That would be Erica and David, she assumed.

"They'll be wanting my help to rescue you. Shall we let them know you're safe and sound?"

As much as she did not want to face her friends right now and explain what happened, she knew she'd have to go with him. They wouldn't trust anything he said on his own, and they might try to attack him, which would get a lot of people killed, including themselves. She didn't trust her friends to uphold the terms of the contract right now.

Crowley stood and offered her his hand; she went to get up, but her legs didn't want to support her. She fell into him, huffing in frustration.

"It's your grace. You'll be back on your feet soon." He scooped her up in his arms and there was an odd sensation like a rubber band slingshot as the summoning spell pulled them away. As the darkness of the ether swallowed her up, Marian passed out.

They reappeared in an abandoned office building (surprise, surprise). Crowley looked down and scowled at the devil's trap they'd drawn him into.

"Abercrombie and Fitch," he growled, "Wonderful hospitality, as always."

Erica stood at the edge of the circle. "You found her! What the Hell happened?"

"I should ask you the same thing. A whole bar full of hunters, and you let one demon get the best of you? One pathetic little mouth-breathing demon, and you let him get away with my angel!"

Erica took a step back, bumping into David. "What happened to her? Is she okay?" she asked in a more subdued voice.

Crowley nudged her head with his shoulder. "Wake up, angel. Say hello to your friends," he said softly. As she woke, he turned back to the hunters: "She'll be fine."

Marian raised her head and looked around owlishly. "Hey guys." Her voice sounded…Smaller somehow. "I'm okay."

David came around Erica to the edge of the trap. "And the other demon?"

"He's not going anywhere," Crowley replied.

"You didn't kill him?" Erica asked in surprise.

"I've been a bit busy," he snapped back. "I'll get to it, believe me. Now, if you would be so kind…" He gestured to the trap.

Marian looked down at the floor and gasped. "You summoned him into a trap? Let him out right now!" She struggled in his arms like she was going to jump down and break the seal herself, but Crowley held her tight; it wasn't like she could put up much of a fight right now anyway.

"It's alright, love, I'll overlook it this time," he purred, and she went still. He glared up at the two hunters. "You pull this stunt again and I won't be as forgiving. You morons both know the terms of the contract."

David pulled a knife out of his pocket and scratched a line through the paint, breaking the trap. "Just didn't want you to leave without hearing us out," he grumbled.

"We were afraid you wouldn't help us," Erica grumbled behind him.

Crowley sidestepped out of the circle and sat Marian down on a dusty old desk. She put her feet up on the edge and hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. The demon kept one hand on her shoulder, like he didn't dare let go of her again.

"I'm not helping you. I'm helping me. We just happened to have the same goal." He cleared his throat. "Anything else I can do for you, while I'm here?" His tone indicated that there better not be.

Erica hurried to her friend's side; David hung back a little, keeping an eye on Crowley.

"Are you hurt?" Erica asked, fussing over her and checking for injuries. She frowned at the dull look in her eyes.

Marian let her fuss a little, but really didn't want anyone touching her right now.

"I told you I'm fine," she said, stopping the investigation. "Crowley healed me."

Erica looked surprised. "Crowley did? Can demons do that?"

"It's part of the deal."

"You look sick, Mare. Maybe you should go to a real doctor."

She shook her head. "It's my grace. I…I used it, and that's…Bad." She was feeling like she might pass out again. Crowley's hand became more supportive.

"You can use Grace?"

"Well, not really. Not normally. It was kind of a—a fluke."

Erica leaned in closer to her friend and lowered her voice. "What did he do to you?"

Marian couldn't look her friend in the eye. "Just beat the crap out of me. Threw me into walls; you know—the usual demon shit."

"But that happens all the time, and you never used Grace then."

She shrugged. "Maybe I'm more in touch with my angel side now that I'm with a demon. I don't know, they don't tell you this stuff when they kick you out of Heaven."

Erica knew there was something she wasn't telling her, but it was hard to talk with Crowley right there. She glared back at him. "Leave her with us, just for one day. She needs to rest and—"

Crowley laughed. "With you? So she can be abducted by another demon? You had a chance to protect her, and you blew it." His hand tightened possessively on her shoulder. "Don't act like I'm the bad guy here; contrary to what you may believe, I don't keep her chained in a dungeon all day."

"Not the bad guy?! You threatened to kill over six thousand people, including her family, so that you could knock her up with the Antichrist!"

"Erica—" Marian started, but Crowley cut her off.

"First of all, it's not the Antichrist. I met the antichrist, and he's not a bad kid. Second of all…" He shrugged. "Broken eggs, omelets, etc. All that's behind us. Just know that I will keep her safe."

Erica opened her mouth to speak again, but Marian shook her head. "You gotta let me go. You did it once already."

The hunter deflated. "I know. I just can't stand the thought of you—"

"Then don't say it." Marian squinted back at her friend, her vision starting to blur. "Don't get yourself killed."

Erica squeezed her hand. Marian flinched, remembering the feeling of broken bones. "Yeah. You too."

Crowley scooped her up again, and they vanished.

"You lied to your friends," Crowley said, tucking her into her bed. "That's not very angelic of you." He sat down next to her and petted her head. "…Actually, I suppose it is. But you could have…What's that thing you people do? Talked about your feelings, or whatever."

Marian curled up on her side and closed her eyes. "Feelings suck." She shivered and moved closer to him; it felt like she was freezing from the inside out.

The demon touched her cheek, and she leaned into the warmth of his hand. "Cold?"

She nodded. It must be whatever was happening with the grace that she didn't have and couldn't use. Crowley slid under the blankets and she flipped over so that her back was to him and pressed up against him. The demon was always warm, but now it felt like that warmth was flowing around her instead of through her. She continued to shiver as he wrapped his arm around her.

Normally, he would lie down more or less straight and she would curl up so that only her back was touching him, but tonight he curled around her. She tensed and curled up tighter into herself when she felt his crotch against her butt, but with his arm around her waist she couldn't move away. It was just a reminder that, even with Lester out of the picture, she was still just a thing for a demon to have sex with. She had no control over her own body: Hell, she couldn't even control her own grace. And though Crowley had said he wasn't going to just grab her and fuck her like Lester had, that didn't mean she felt safe around him either. He was still going to touch her wherever he wanted and do whatever he wanted, and there was nothing she could say or do to stop him.

Exhausted, angry, and frightened, Marian couldn't stop the waterworks from starting up again. She turned her face into her pillow, crying silently, hoping the way her chest and shoulders shook would be hidden by her shivering. She was so tired of being weak and helpless: the demon had control of every part of her life, but she hated that he could see how awful he made her feel. She hated breaking down again and again and again, giving him the satisfaction that he'd broken her that much more each time.

"My little angel," Crowley murmured, kissing the back of her head. "You're alright now. I've got you."

So much for hiding her feelings. Marian bit her lip and whimpered, curling even tighter into herself until her muscles started to ache. She felt like she couldn't breathe. She tried to uncurl to get more air, but Crowley was blocking her. His demonic heat was smothering her, filling her lungs with sulfur. She started to panic and struggle against him.

Crowley removed his hand from her waist and sat up, giving her room to breathe. Marian rolled onto her back, hyperventilating. "Relax, love. Breathe."

She shook her head. She couldn't relax. She couldn't breathe.

Crowley's eyes narrowed. Marian was acting like she'd been hexed, but she hadn't been around any witches, and he would know if one had been in the house. If it wasn't witches, then what? This must be some sort of human malfunction. He set his hand on her forehead: Whatever he couldn't fix via conventional means, he could solve with demonic power.

Marian felt her head start to buzz and her brain jumped back to when Lester had used his power to keep her alert. She tried to move away, but Crowley grabbed her shoulder with his free hand, holding her in place. A moment later, her panic subsided as the demonic sedation took effect. Her muscles relaxed, and she could breathe normally. She felt like she couldn't move, and that made her want to panic again, but she didn't have the energy for it. It was as if she'd been given Xanax along with a strong muscle relaxant: She was basically a boneless lump.

Crowley released her and laid down facing her, propping himself up on his elbow. He took Marian's hand and held it, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. He forced her eyes open. He made her look at him.

Marian's eyes snapped open and she shook her head, trying to dislodge the memory. She could feel herself starting to panic again, but she was too sedated to properly freak out. A whine crept out of the back of her throat.

"Shh. You're safe now," Crowley said softly.

She shook her head vehemently. She wasn't safe: Crowley was there. Crowley would hurt her.

The demon sighed. "I suppose I should let you rest in peace." He kissed her forehead, and then he was pulling away from her, the demon's warmth replaced by a cool rush of air as the blanket moved.

Marian's eyes widened and she struggled to make her jellied limbs move. "You're leaving?" she asked, feeling the pressed-down panic fight its way back to the surface. As much as she didn't want him there, the thought of him leaving her alone was somehow even worse. Crowley was a known entity, more or less: If he was going to come on to her or molest her, he would at least be fairly gentle about it, for a demon. He wasn't going to break every bone in her body in the process. He was, she had to admit, the lesser of all evils.

Crowley paused halfway out of bed and looked at her curiously. "I was just going to sit at your desk," he said. "I thought you would sleep better if I wasn't there to bother you."

Marian managed to raise the hand he'd been holding earlier, but it felt heavy. Her arm started to shake, and it dropped back onto her stomach. "Yes, but—I don't—Crowley, please…" She whimpered as hot tears of frustration filled her eyes.

"Hey, easy, easy," Crowley murmured. He sat down beside her and ran his hand through her hair.

"Please don't leave."

"I'm not going to leave. I just want you to feel safe." He continued to pet her, and she relaxed again, the sedation once more taking control.

She was so used to sleeping next to him, it had become…Normal, almost. His presence was disturbing and comforting at the same time, but leaned more towards 'comforting.' Holy Hell, he really was corrupting her. "Stay. Please."

Crowley kissed the top of her head. "Of course, love." He slid down so that he was lying beside her again, and gently rolled her onto her side, wrapping his arm around her waist and hugging her against him. "My little fallen angel. You're all mine. No one else will ever touch you again."

That was a vaguely ominous statement, Marian thought; but it wasn't enough to overwhelm the sedative effect she was under. She slowly drifted off to sleep, her anxieties held at bay.

Marian woke with a start when someone bit her neck. Her eyes flew open and she tried to move away, but Crowley had her wrists pinned at her sides, kneeling between her legs.

"No sleeping, angel."

"Crowley? What—"

The demon snapped his fingers and she was naked. "I'd wanted you to fall in love with me, but you're taking far too long. I'm not a patient demon, darling; so I'm just going to take you, and hope you get knocked up eventually."

Crowley shoved two fingers inside her; she went to kick him away, but suddenly she was aware that all her friends and family were surrounding them, along with…Oh shit…Around six thousand people, if she had to guess.

"Ah-ah, none of that," he chided. "Unless you want all of these humans to die. No kicking, no biting, no punching, and none of those nasty little exorcisms you're so fond of." He nipped her neck again. "But go ahead and squirm all you want," he whispered in her ear. "I like the idea of you squirming under me."

Her parents were watching. Erica was watching, along with David and the other hunters that were included in her deal. Or…Maybe they weren't really there? It was hard to focus on anything with Crowley doing…What she was trying to pretend he wasn't doing.

"Oh, and one more thing. I got a little inspiration from Lester…"

He snapped again, and Marian's head exploded in pain as the bones in her arms and legs shattered again. She screamed.

Marian stopped screaming as she realized her bones were still intact. She was clothed, and under the covers, and Crowley wasn't fingering her or straddling her; he was sitting next to her, reading a book in the dark, though he'd paused to look at her in what was either concern or curiosity. He set the book aside and brushed a strand of sweat-soaked hair out of her face. She flinched at his touch.

"It's alright, angel. You were just dreaming. You're safe."

She looked up at him suspiciously. Had he caused her to have that dream? Was it some new little torture he'd devised? What if his (almost non-existent) patience had grown thin, and this was his not-so-subtle way of telling her that if she didn't get with the program, he'd give her a live-action replay of what happened with Lester? Maybe he thought that she should love him, since he'd rescued her from the other demon.

What if he'd set up the whole thing with Lester just to come across as a hero?

He was so territorial, though. Would he really let another demon touch her, let alone rape her? He'd seemed so angry when he'd broken through the wall; it hadn't felt like he was faking it.

She was making herself dizzy with her own runaway train of thought.

"Angel?" Crowley slid down until he was level with her and gently squeezed her shoulder. "Hey. He can't hurt you now; you know that, right?"

She hid her face in his chest and shook her head; he wrapped his arm around her and rubbed her back, which seemed to be the one trick he knew that would calm her down.

"Would you like to come with me when I kill him?"

She shook her head; she didn't want to see Lester again, and she certainly didn't want him to see her.

"You could watch the security feed from the TV right here in your room."

That didn't sound too bad. She nodded.

Crowley chuckled. "Alright. Now, go back to sleep." He touched her forehead and she felt his power tingle all the way back to the nape of her neck.

She shivered. "What did you do?"

"I stopped your ability to dream," he explained. "No more nightmares tonight."

He put his hand on her back again and continued with the gentle massage, and eventually she fell back asleep. Crowley went back to his work, but his mind was elsewhere. He didn't like the way she'd just looked at him, like he'd been the one who hurt her. True; he loved torturing his little angel, but it was all in good fun. He knew better than to do what Lester had done, and damage his relationship with her beyond repair. But humans were fragile, mentally and emotionally. Could Lester's actions destroy everything Crowley had worked so hard to achieve?

She'd asked him to stay, though. She'd wanted him to hold her, and damn if that wasn't the best thing he'd felt in over 300 years. Yes, she was still afraid of him, and now she was afraid of him because of something he hadn't even done; but it still gave him a little thrill that she wanted him.

His mind wandered to all the things he was going to do to Lester. He had a few new concepts he'd been meaning to try for a while, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity. And if they didn't work out, well, there were always the old tried-and-true methods. Demons were harder to torture than damned souls: They had already been there, been-impaled-by-that, and usually pain was just a turn-on for them. So Crowley had to get creative. He was going to make an example of Lester: Let all of Hell know that No One Fucks With the King of the Crossroads, especially not his angel.

When she woke up, Crowley was still sitting next to her, poring over contracts with the TV news playing in the background.

Marian felt like her soul had been hit by a truck. She sat up, feeling like she was moving in slow-motion. Crowley looked over at her and smiled. It looked like a real smile, not the creepy, serpentine one he had when he was plotting something.

"How do you feel?"

She rubbed her temple. "I'm…Okay. Slow. Head hurts." She blinked and tried to focus on a clock. "D'you have work?"

"Yes. I was just waiting for you to wake up. You'll be alright without me, won't you?" She nodded, and he squeezed her shoulder. "That's my girl. I shouldn't be gone more than eight or ten hours. You just relax today; you're still recovering your grace." Crowley leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then stood and brushed off his suit. "You'll be safe here, angel. I'll see you soon."

The demon vanished, and Marian slouched back in bed. She wanted to go back to sleep, but…Well, no matter what Crowley said, she didn't feel safe. She knew she was defenseless against Crowley, and she'd more or less come to terms with that, but it was all the other demons out there—demons like Lester—that she wanted to protect herself against. She'd thought she was safe with the other hunters, but she wasn't. How could she be sure that she was safe here?

"Doctor Freud," Crowley greeted, stepping into the cell. "Can I stop by without an appointment?"

A tortured soul, hanging upside-down with meathooks through his ankles, looked up (or down?) at him. He screamed as his torturer carefully carved off a Post-It sized chunk of skin and added it to a growing pile of skin Post-Its.

"Aaaagh," said Freud, choking on blood as it dripped down into his nose and throat. "Crowley, so good to see you again. Please come in, make yourself comfortable. My do—aaaaargh Mary Mother of Christ—door is always open."

Crowley nodded to the demon torturing him, and it left without a word, wiping the blood off its hands as it disappeared down the hall. Crowley shut the door behind him.

"Ahh," Freud sighed, relaxing even as blood continued to drip down his face and hands onto the floor. "What brings you to my neck of the woods, sir? More trouble with your fallen angel?"

Crowley leaned against a relatively clean wall, crossing his arms over his chest. "I let her see her friends. One of them died; it really upset her."

"That was kind of you."

"It was a disaster. Lester found out about her somehow—probably Lucifer himself, the bastard—and caught her before I could take her back. He set his little minions on me, and I had to kill them all before I could get to her."

"Lester. Head torturer Lester?"

"Ex-head torturer, now that I've got him. He thought he could take my angel away from me…MY ANGEL." His eyes flared red and sparks shot off the far wall.

"He hurt her?" The doctor was unphased by Crowley's little flare in temper.

"He raped her," Crowley growled. "Blocked her voice so she couldn't exorcise him, broke her arms and legs, and raped her. My angel." He started to pace around the cell. "I told you how skittish she is about sex, and Lester had to go and rape her—fuck." He punched the stone wall, spraying little chunks of rock everywhere. "So now we're back to square one."

Freud coughed out a pebble. "Maybe so, and maybe not. How did she get away from him? I assume you have her back, yes?"

"Yes, I have her back. Lester had the place warded, but her grace activated and broke one of the seals." He sighed, looking at the dent in the wall he'd made. "Her grace should restore itself naturally, but I've no idea how long that will take. Everything there is to read on the matter is about real angels, not one that's been…Humanized."

"But you rescued her," Freud prompted.

"Hmm? Oh. Yes, I suppose I did. Is that helpful?"

"Normally I'd say yes, extremely. You're her knight in shining armor now." The chains twisted, turning him around in a circle. "However, I'm not sure about these 'hunter' types you've described. She doesn't sound like the kind of female who enjoys being saved; she's normally the one who does the saving."

"That's…True. Hold on, are you saying I shouldn't have saved her?"

"No! No, this is definitely a good thing. You've been the bad guy up to this point—in her eyes, at least. But now you're her savior, too." He rotated around again, chains clinking. "You're still the bad guy, but you're…Less bad. This abduction may just be the thing that helps you go from 'enemy' to 'friend.' And then it's just a small leap from 'friend,' of course, to where you need to be."

"Yes, right. So just…Keep doing what I'm doing."

"Is the change in her grace affecting you?"

"Pardon?"

"We've discussed how her semi-angelic properties seem to affect your capacity to feel emotions. Have you noticed a decrease in that ability now that her grace is depleted?"

Crowley shook his head. "If anything, I'm feeling more. It's like…I understand what she's feeling because I've felt it too—I can remember being tortured in the pits, and I don't even know why I remember that…"

"Empathy," Freud said. "You're experiencing empathy."

"Ugh." The demon looked disgusted. "Is there a cure?"

"No, that's good too! It means you can relate to her."

"I don't want that weak human crap," he huffed. "I just want to make her happy. I want to be the reason she's happy."

"And that, my good demon, is what love is."

"Hack," Crowley muttered, and slammed the door behind him.

Marian jolted awake, sensing another presence in the room. She had fallen asleep facing the foot of her bed, surrounded by newspapers and notebooks. There were also packs of gauze, scissors, bloody rags, and her three-inch folding knife (useless on a demon, but handy for opening packages or cutting through rope). She stared at everything in a daze, trying to remember how she'd gotten here.

"I see you redecorated while I was gone," Crowley said, snapping her back to the present. "It's not exactly my style, but I'll get used to it." He looked up at the ceiling above her bed, and she followed his gaze.

There was a devil's trap painted above her. She had a vague feeling that she'd put it there, but it was hard to remember, like it was part of a dream. What the Hell was happening to her?

"I…I didn't…I mean, I guess I must've, but I don't remember—" She cut herself off, looking down at her arms. Both her forearms were bandaged, and she could feel the long cuts underneath. Yes; it was starting to come back to her. "I panicked. It was the only thing I could think of that would work…" She stood up and her head felt light and fuzzy, like she might pass out, but she took a clean end of a rag and wiped a clear spot through the trap, breaking its power. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking about—I forgot it would work on you."

She sank back onto the mattress, looking down at her bandaged arms. Not only was she moving in slow motion, she was thinking in slow motion; she knew Crowley would be angry about the trap, and part of her worried that he would threaten to kill her friends because it was an act of aggression, but she hadn't meant it to be one. Hell, she hadn't meant to make it at all; it just sort of happened, in that weird, over-panicked, sleepwalking dream state. But now she was too tired to panic, and she was too dehydrated to cry.

She flinched as Crowley sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. "It's alright, love. I understand."

Marian didn't understand; how could he? She let her head drop to his shoulder.

Crowley ran a hand over her bandaged forearm. "You used your own blood?"

"Didn't have anyone else's," she answered. "Couldn't find any paint."

"Ah." He carefully undid the taping and peeled the gauze off, then held his hand over the long, wrist-to-elbow wound. Her skin burned as he healed her; he then repeated the process with her other arm. "There. Good as new."

She ran her fingertips over the newly healed skin, brushing away flecks of dried blood. "Thank you."

He kissed the top of her head. "I will always take care of you. And when I'm not around…" He pulled something out of his blazer; Marian picked her head up, half curious and half apprehensive. Crowley held a knife out to her, offering it hilt first.

It was her angel blade.

She looked at the blade, then at Crowley, then back to the blade. Was this a trick? A trap? She could actually kill him with this. Granted, if she tried, over six thousand people including her friends and parents would die instantly. And Crowley wasn't stupid: he'd be watching for her to attack, and could stop her easily. Then everyone would die, but he would still be alive…She shook her head. It wasn't worth the risk.

"It's alright," he said soothingly. "Take it. It's yours."

She reached out cautiously, like he might smack her hand away at any moment. Her hand closed around the hilt and Crowley let go of the blade; moving slowly and deliberately, so he knew she wasn't going to attack him, she brought the knife into her lap and looked it over. There were faint Enochian letters carved into the hilt: This really had been hers, albeit in another life.

"I want you to feel safe, even when I'm not here to protect you," Crowley said. Marian remained speechless, so he went on, as if he knew exactly what she'd been thinking: "You could try to kill me, sure; but I think you love your friends more than you hate me."

Marian turned the hilt around in her hand. God, she'd missed holding a weapon. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed it until now: she didn't want to let go of it, but if she didn't she knew she'd end up doing something terminally stupid. She leaned across the bed and set it down on her nightstand, where it would be safe but still visible. Finding herself still unable to speak, she snuggled back up to the demon and wrapped her arms around him in thanks.

Crowley grinned like a snake in the sun and hugged her back.

Marian shivered and made a strange wheezing sound in the back of her throat.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just…Feel kinda weird. Tired. Probably just the whole grace thing."

Crowley held her at arms' length and noted the dull look in her eyes. "Or it could be blood loss," he said, nodding to the artwork above their heads. "Have you had anything to eat or drink recently?"

She shook her head; food hadn't been on her radar, only anxiety.

Crowley moved her to the head of the bed, propping her up against a pile of pillows, and produced a cup of tea from…Wherever it was he pulled things from. He settled down next to her and they watched TV like two normal humans (assuming one of those humans was eyeing celebrities for potential souls it could buy). Marian would glance at the angel blade every few minutes, just happy to have it there like a little shiny security blanket. She was a bit out of practice, but she could probably set up some kind of target practice in the basement and get back into fighting shape.

The tea did help. She probably needed to drink a half-gallon of water before she felt like herself again, but she could do that in the morning. She set the cup down on her nightstand and grabbed the knife, wrapping the blade with one of the rags she'd used to 'paint' the devil's trap. She slid under the blankets and laid down on her side, holding the angel blade like she was cuddling a stuffed animal.

Crowley chuckled and laid down next to her, propping his head up so he could keep one eye on the weapon. "Is this how all hunters sleep?"

"Just the crazy ones." She yawned and curled her legs up toward her chest. "Do you have to go back tonight?" She was trying to sound casual about it, like she didn't care either way, but there was an inescapable note of trepidation in her voice.

Crowley noticed. "No, I can stay," he said with a grin, "If you want me to."

Damn him for posing it as a choice for her! If she said 'no,' he'd leave, and angel blade or no angel blade she was going to freak out again; if she said 'yes,' she was admitting that she was more comfortable with him around than without him, and she really didn't want to admit that.

She bit her lip and nodded. She could practically feel the smugness radiating from the demon as his arm tightened around her waist. How the Hell did this get to be my life? How did spooning with the king of the crossroads become the new normal? You have to do as he says, but that doesn't mean you have to enjoy it! She was so disgusted with herself that she wanted to punch herself in the face.

Crowley kissed the top of her head. "Of course, angel."