Chapter 1 - The Power To Choose

Gail and Dean were sitting in the two chairs opposite Crowley's desk, and Crowley was sitting behind it. He picked up a decanter and poured three stiff shots, pushing two of the glasses towards them. He threw back his own immediately, and poured another.

Dean looked at his glass for a moment, shrugged, then knocked his back, too. Crowley made a motion to the decanter, but Dean shook his head.

Gail just stared at her glass. She was too stunned to even move. After they had left the wing where Lucifer's cage was located, Crowley had said, "Let's go to my office for a minute, and talk about what we're going to do now."

Crowley had been stunned by what Metatron had said too, but characteristically, he had been the first one to recover his equilibrium. They shouldn't just stand here, out in the open. Castiel was still here somewhere, and while there had been plenty to occupy him in the torture wing, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't begin to wander around. All they'd need would be for him to round the corner holding a bloody blade and whistling a happy tune.

So he'd led the way to his office, and Dean had put his arm around Gail, steering her in that direction. Dean was starting to recover now, too, and he was also wondering what the hell they were supposed to do now. Rowena was deader than dead; Gail had seen to that, when they'd gone to Crowley's den to seek out Frank. But Dean knew that in their world, there was usually a way around these things. Look at what they had just done, for instance. But why did Crowley look so perturbed, then? His mother had been a powerful witch, but she'd been human, and she'd been evil. Wouldn't she be here, in Hell?

Gail had been too stunned to reason anything out, and she remained that way, now. They were screwed, and once again, it was her fault. She had killed the only person who could have helped them. What the hell had Crowley meant, "what were they going to do now"? What was there TO do?

Castiel was drenched in blood, and he was exhausted. His visit to Hell's torture wing had been both instructional and cathartic, but he was tired now, and he wanted to go home. He needed to get cleaned up, and he needed to be with Gail.

He frowned. Where was Crowley? He'd thought the King would have been back, by now. Too bad Castiel couldn't just exit Hell by himself. As dark as he was now, he could still only enter and exit Hell in Crowley's company. He had asked his brother about that, and Crowley had advised Castiel that he hadn't fully turned, yet. But with every violent act he committed, Castiel was turning further away from the light. As he had been such a high-ranking Angel, he had much farther to fall than others, and so the journey would take longer. Crowley had told him to be patient; he was well on his way.

Today's activities would go a long way towards his progress, Castiel thought with satisfaction. He had been very busy. But he was done now, at least for the time being, and he needed to find Crowley. So, he began to meander through the halls, finally stopping to ask a minion where the King's office was.

The three of them sat in silence, thinking their individual thoughts. Crowley thought he might have an idea, and he was just opening his mouth to speak when there was a knock on the door.

"Crowley, are you in there? It's Castiel."

Gail looked up in terror. Oh, God. They had taken too long.

The doorknob rattled, but luckily Crowley had had the foresight to lock the door behind them. He hadn't wanted anyone to stumble in and find an Angel and a Winchester in here. He had arranged for the halls around the secure wing to be deserted when they'd arrived, and except for the one minion he'd arranged to escort Dean from the office when he'd arrived, no one knew they were here. Crowley had had to sacrifice the escort, of course, to keep it completely confidential. Just the cost of doing business.

"Crowley!" Cas pounded on the door. "Are you there?"

Crowley put a hand to his lips, looking at Dean and Gail. She was looking like she was going to lose it, at any moment.

Crowley moved around the desk and unlocked the door, edging himself through it and closing it behind him. "I heard you," he said, making sure to sound irritated. "I was just catching up on some paperwork."

"I'm ready to leave," Castiel said to him.

Crowley examined his brother. He'd just bet he was. How he was even still standing was beyond Crowley. Based on the amount of blood on his clothes and the expression on his face, he was all in.

"Give me ten minutes," Crowley said to Castiel. "I have to close a couple more files."

"All right, then let me come in there," Castiel said, motioning his head to the door. "I need to sit down."

"You're a mess, and you're not getting blood all over my furniture. I just had it reupholstered," Crowley told him. "Wait here."

Crowley slipped back into the office, locking the door behind him. Castiel stood in the hallway, fuming. That office was going to be his soon, he vowed. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor. He really did need to rest.

Crowley put a finger to his lips again as his guests looked at him, panicked. Then he stood between Gail and Dean and looked at his desk. Clean as a whistle. He snapped his fingers and a pile of files appeared. Then he waved his hand and messed the papers up, a bit. That would have to do. Then he put one hand on each of their arms, and winked them all out of his office.

They reappeared in the warehouse, and Crowley pushed Gail back into the middle of the floor, where she'd been standing when he and Castiel had left.

"No time for finesse, sweetheart," he told her. "You have to be in exactly the same position as you were when we left you." He drew the circle of holy oil around her and lit it on fire.

Dean was looking around. What was this place? This was where they'd been right before Crowley and Gail had come to the bunker? Why? What had the three of them been doing here, and how long had they been meeting like this?

"Crowley - " Gail started to say, stepping forward involuntarily.

Crowley looked down at her legs. "I wouldn't recommend doing that when I bring your boyfriend back," he said sardonically.

Dean rushed forward, but Crowley restrained him. "Gail! Your legs!" Dean yelled.

She looked down at herself. Her leg was in the fire, and her foot was outside the circle. But the fire didn't burn, and it didn't hurt. What a surreal experience. She looked up at Crowley.

"Well, I guess I'll have to figure out a different way to get you to stay put, in the future," Crowley said dryly. "That extra dose definitely did the trick." He looked at Dean. "Say goodbye. We've got to go."

"Thanks, Dean," Gail said. "And, thank you, too," she said to Crowley.

Crowley gave her a small bow. "I'll contact you as soon as I can," he said. Then he grabbed Dean's arm and they were gone.

"We're back," Crowley called out. He and Dean had appeared in the library area as soon as Dean had extended the invitation for the King to enter, and Bobby and Sam came rushing out from the kitchen.

Dean stood looking down at his own dead body, having a surreal experience of his own. "How do I get back in there?"

"Leave it to me," Crowley said. He snapped his fingers, and Dean disappeared. Sam was on the verge of yelling, asking the King of Hell what he was trying to pull, but Crowley had already bent down and put his hand on Dean's head. A minute or two later, Dean stretched as if he'd been enjoying a deep sleep, and then he sat up, blinking. "Un-freakin'-real," he said to the men.

Sam and Bobby took one arm each and helped Dean to his feet, and then Sam pulled his brother into his arms for a hug.

"I hate to interrupt this touching bro-ment, but I have to go," Crowley said. "I'll be in touch." Then he vanished.

Crowley reappeared inside his office in Hell. He took a breath, brushed imaginary lint off his suit jacket, and unlocked the door. "You might as well come in," he said to Castiel, putting on a tone of annoyance. "But you'll have to stand. I'll just be a moment."

Castiel entered the office, looking around. It was a little smaller than he'd expected, but it was nicely furnished. He could picture himself here. He looked at the plush couch on the other side of the room and smiled. And he could definitely see himself and Gail there. She probably wouldn't mind a change of venue, now and then. He looked at the desk. Maybe he'd get another chair, and she could sit beside him there. She was his partner, after all.

He noticed the three glasses. "I thought you said you were working on files," Castiel said.

Crowley was making a show of closing files and shuffling papers, and he froze for a moment. Bollocks. He had forgotten about those. "Not everything is your business, Castiel," he snapped. There. That ought to shut his brother up.

Castiel frowned, but he was too tired to argue. When Crowley said, "Let's go," Cas was only too glad to take his arm.

They reappeared in the warehouse, where Gail was standing in the circle of fire. She had made sure to stay in the centre and not move a muscle, and when the two men appeared, she arranged her features to look annoyed.

"It's about time!" she said. "Get me out of here, Crowley! I'm sick of standing here!"

He approached her, trying not to smile. Good girl. Crowley snapped his fingers, extinguishing the fire, then waved his hand and the circle of holy oil was gone. Only then did Gail move forward. Castiel came to her and tried to put his arms around her, but she sidestepped him. "Let's get you cleaned up, first," she said to him.

Cas smiled. Understandable. He did take her hand, and she didn't pull away, though his hand was as bloody as the rest of him. She could wash her hand, and the fear of her near discovery in Crowley's office was still too fresh. But they hadn't had a chance to talk about what Metatron had said, and its implications. Had they gone through all that for nothing?

"We'll have to meet again, soon," Crowley said to them. "But for now, I think you'd better take your boyfriend home, sweetheart. He's looking worn out."

She stared at Crowley, trying to communicate her thanks with her eyes. He looked at her evenly, thinking she may not want to thank him. There may be a way to get to his mother, but it would require further sacrifice on her part. Just how far would she be willing to go to save Castiel?

And there was something else she may not want to thank Crowley for, though it was hardly his fault. After all, she had agreed to pay the price of admission. Just before she and Castiel disappeared from the warehouse, Crowley had seen her eyes darken from a medium brown to a darker brown. For a moment there, he could have sworn they'd almost looked black.

Cas went immediately to the shower, and he took his blade with him. He showered thoroughly, then rinsed the blade off, watching the blood go down the drain. Then he towelled himself off and wiped the blade clean. God, he was tired. But, he was also exhilarated. As annoying as Crowley was at times, he did manage to provide a wide assortment of outlets for Castiel's particular needs. Well, the violent ones, anyway. The others would be taken care of right now.

He was so exhausted that he walked into the bedroom absently, carrying the blade. He hadn't bothered to dress, so Cas had no pocket in which to put it. It was only when he got to the bed that he noticed it was still in his hand. He put it on the nightstand, then got into bed, reaching for Gail.

But she sat up, evading his arms. "What's THAT doing there?" Gail asked angrily, pointing at the blade.

Cas was annoyed at her tone. "Nothing," he said shortly. "I had it in my hand, so I put it down."

Gail didn't want to see it there, especially not within his arm's reach. "Well, pick it back up," she said, agitated.

Cas's eyes narrowed. "I'm tired, Gail. I'll do it in the morning. Come here." He reached for her again, but she pushed his arms away. Gail was shaking now, but it was more from anger than from fear. Although there was some fear, as well.

"No!" she said, raising her voice. "That thing's leaving this room right now, or I am!"

His eyes flashed bright purple. "Is that right?" he asked her in a quiet voice.

Gail was shaking violently now. "Yes, that's right," she retorted. He continued to stare at her, but she didn't dare look away, and she didn't dare back down. If she bent the rule now, she knew it would break.

Cas was angry now. He hadn't intended to use the damn thing, he'd just forgotten it was in his hand. He was tired, he was comfortable, and he just wanted her to touch him. Maybe after she took care of him, he could shut his eyes for a few minutes, and recharge his batteries.

"If you want it gone so badly, you can put it somewhere, yourself," Cas said to her.

"Really?" Gail said sarcastically. "Can I? I can put it anywhere I want?"

"Yes, yes," Cas said impatiently. "Just do it."

"All right, I will," Gail said brightly. She got out of the bed, walked around to his side, and grabbed the blade from the nightstand. "How about if I put it...here, then?" she said, holding it to his throat.

Cas's eyes flashed, and then they narrowed again. Was she joking? Then he looked into her eyes and noticed that they looked darker than usual. Why were they such a strange colour?

Gail waited to see what he would do next. This had been a really risky move on her part, she knew; but it was time he was taught that a rule was a rule, and a promise was a promise. She was determined to regain some of her power in the relationship, or die trying.

Cas glared at her for a moment. He knew she wouldn't actually do it; she was just trying to prove a point. He could easily overpower her if he wanted to, and turn the blade back on her.

Instead, he smiled. She was showing him now why he loved her, and had picked her to be his partner. He had been hoping she would stand up to him, and give him a challenge. It would make things more exciting.

"Easy does it," Cas said lightly. "As it turns out, I do have a bit of energy after all. I'll just take that, and put it downstairs. Okay?"

Gail took the blade away from his throat but held onto it for a moment. Was he sincere, or was it a trick?

Cas started to swing his legs off the bed and she moved back a step, allowing him to sit up. She backed up another step as he stood. He put his hand out for the blade and she gave it to him. Once again, she waited to see what he'd do next. She was more than a little afraid, but she stood her ground.

He stared at her for a moment, then turned and left the room. She could hear him walking down the stairs, then, after a moment, walking back up. He appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, holding up his hands. "OK to enter? As you can see, the blade is gone," he said sardonically.

Well, he definitely didn't have it any more, Gail thought with faint amusement. Cas was still naked, so unless he was a special kind of magician, he couldn't possibly be hiding it. There was something else he wasn't bothering to hide, too. He was in an obvious state of excitement.

Cas walked to her and pressed his body against hers, kissing her with his tongue. She moved her hand down to touch him and he moaned. She supposed he deserved a reward for obeying her wishes, and not getting violent about it. What a sad thing to think, but she had to play with the cards she'd been dealt until there was a re-shuffle, or she decided to quit the game. And after what she'd just heard from Metatron, it could go either way.

But for now, she said, "Come and lay down." She took his hands and led him to the bed, and when they were in it, she moved immediately down his body and took him in her mouth. He moved with her, and a minute later he was crying out her name. Her defiance had excited him that much. Once he was rested, he would have to give her the reciprocation she deserved.

Gail moved up to kiss him on the mouth and he took her in his arms, sighing appreciatively. "I love you," he murmured. Then Cas closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep.

Gail gently extricated herself from his arms and stood there for a moment, looking down at him. He was actually sleeping, and sleeping deeply. Wow. She would have to ask Crowley about that. It would almost be worth going through another dosing or two if she could just join him in slumber for a night, she thought with dark humour. It'd sure be nice to have that escape, for a while.

But she was wasting time now. She moved quietly around the bed and grabbed her clothes from the floor where she'd left them, dressing quickly. Then she took a deep breath and winked herself into the bunker.

Sam and Dean were sitting at the library table having a beer when Gail appeared. She walked up to Dean immediately and put her hand on his shoulder. "Thank God. I just needed to see you, to make sure you were OK," she told him. A small part of her had been worried that Crowley wouldn't actually bring Dean back.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Dean told her. "How are you?"

"I'm all right, Dean," Gail sighed. She wasn't, really, but compared to how she'd been some other nights, it was still an improvement.

"Where's Cas?" Sam asked her.

"Believe it or not, he's sleeping," Gail said, making a face. "Apparently, he does that, now."

The brothers looked at each other. Did Demons sleep? Dean frowned. More proof of Cas's non-Angel status. Great.

"Dean told me what happened," Sam said. "So, you need Rowena to tell you how to reverse the spell?"

Gail laughed shortly. "Yeah. And I chopped off her head."

Sam looked at her sharply. It wasn't like Gail to speak so bluntly. How much was the extra dose Crowley had administered to her here affecting her now? Her eyes looked like they were a darker brown than he remembered, and he had looked into them a lot.

"There's always a way, Gail," Dean said, taking a sip of beer. "We just have to think of it."

"Oh, well if that's all we have to do, I'll get right on it. Piece of cake," she said sarcastically.

"I'll look at the spell book," Sam said. "I haven't really had the chance to go over it thoroughly."

Gail shrugged. "Might as well, I guess. But unless it's got a section on reversing rogue spells, I don't know if it'll do us much good."

"I think Crowley might have something," Dean said.

Gail's heart skipped a beat. "What? Why do you say that?"

"I dunno; he just had a look on his face, when we were in his office. And I think he was about to say something, when Cas knocked on the door," Dean replied.

"I'll have to call him, then," Gail said. Dean held up his cell phone. "Put it on Speaker, so we can all hear," he told her.

Oh. Right. She'd been thinking she would just call him with her mind, as he'd advised she could do now. But this would be better; then they'd all be in the loop. "Where's Bobby?" she asked them.

"Heaven," Sam replied shortly.

Made sense. Sometimes, Gail almost forgot he was God. He had many other things on his plate, she was sure. It was only because they were his friends that they'd been visited by him on Earth as much as they had been. Her and Cas's problem was extremely serious, but they were not the only ones Bobby had to deal with. She wondered idly if the new board had been formed yet, and how their Angel friends were doing. She hoped word hadn't leaked out about what she and Cas had been going through. Things had been tough enough in Heaven for Castiel over the years without people finding out about what he was now.

"Miss me already?" Crowley quipped, when he'd seen who was calling. He was sitting on the couch in his office, sipping another drink, and he'd been thinking about their little dilemma. The first step in trying to get to his mother would be to set up a meeting with a very objectionable individual. Crowley and the Winchesters were acquainted with this entity through their dealings with him in the past, but Gail had been fortunate enough not to have encountered him, yet. Once again, Crowley wondered just how far she was willing to go to obtain the spell that would cure Castiel. But he was pretty sure he knew the answer. All the way.

Dean made a face. This was just Crowley being Crowley, he knew, but it still rubbed him the wrong way. The King of Hell had better not think this temporary and forced partnership had turned them back into besties. Dean had just been in Hell, but he was no Demon. Unlike Cas, and maybe even Gail now too, he thought bitterly. He'd also seen her eyes.

"We've got Gail here," Dean told Crowley. "I'm putting you on Speaker. We need to talk." He pushed the speaker button and put the phone on the table.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Crowley asked casually, but he really did want to know. He'd been wondering which Castiel Gail would see when they got home. He'd seemed too tired to brutalize her too badly tonight.

Gail smiled, and her eyes grew darker as she thought about her victory, earlier. "Untouched," she said, almost cheerfully. She was staring off into space, as if Crowley was standing right in front of her. "He did bring the blade into the bedroom again, but I think it was an accident, this time. I gave him hell about it, though, and I finally persuaded him to get rid of it. After I put it to his throat."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, open-mouthed. Unbelievable. Now they were starting to worry about Gail in a different way. It wasn't just her eyes, it was the way she was talking about holding a blade on Cas as if it were an amusing anecdote. Not that she wouldn't have plenty of reason, after the way he had treated her. But now the nauseating secret was out. Not only had Cas inflicted numerous bruises and abrasions on her body, but he had obviously used his blade on her, as well. Sam had never been more shocked or more angry in his life. He had suspected that something was up when she'd shown up here bleeding, but he hadn't been able to believe it was anything as bad as that. The next time he saw Cas, Cas was a dead man.

But Crowley threw back his head and laughed, and his eyes began to water. Fantastic. His respect for Gail grew, and so did his affection. "Good girl!" he exclaimed. "And he gave you no further trouble, after that?"

"Yep," she confirmed cheerfully. "In fact, he's asleep, right now. That's how I was able to come here. I wanted to ask you about that, though: Do you guys sleep?"

As appalled as they were, the Winchesters leaned forward. They really wanted to hear the answer to the question.

Crowley remained amused. "I'll tell you, but I'm not sure you want me to be on Speaker when I do," he said, smiling.

Gail paused for a moment. She thought she might have an idea of what he was getting at. But she realized now that she had just accidentally divulged one of the most shameful things that had happened in that bedroom to the brothers.

For a moment there, she'd been talking directly to Crowley. Once again, he had not expressed disgust or judged her for it. And it wasn't as if she'd enjoyed it, or had signified to Cas in any way that what he had done was acceptable. In fact, she had left him, immediately afterwards. But she should have saved that little tidbit just for Crowley. Now she had opened up her big mouth, and Dean was looking like he was going to throw up, while Sam was looking murderous. They'd better not ever find out what had happened after Cas had made her bleed, or she'd have to peel them off the ceiling.

She sighed. Oh, well. She guessed that was just one less secret she had to hide, now. "Go ahead, Crowley. Say it," she said.

"Demons only sleep under two circumstances: If we drink heavily, we will sometimes fall asleep for a short time. Although, that might be more like passing out," he said dryly. He'd had lots of experience with that particular phenomenon himself; after Gail had killed his mother, Crowley had been at loose ends and he'd wallowed in alcohol for a while, often passing out on this very couch. But he hadn't blamed Gail for killing Rowena then, and he didn't blame her now. In actual fact, she had done him a huge favour. Crowley hated his mother. He hated all witches. Humans had had the right idea when they'd been burning them at the stake.

He continued, "And Demons can also sleep after having been satisfied sexually. Unfortunately, it's been far too long for me, in that regard. Unless you'd care to help out? We could negotiate terms," he teased her.

"Shut up, Crowley," Sam barked.

Crowley rolled his eyes. "Stand down, Moose. I was only having a laugh." He was going with that.

But Gail was merely amused. She knew the way Crowley talked by now, and it didn't bother her. She supposed she should feel embarrassed, but what Crowley had said was actually pretty tame, compared to what he could have said. She'd expected far worse, and in much more graphic terms. And it wasn't as if Sam and Dean didn't already know that she and Cas had been having sex. Although the frequency and the variety might shock them more than a little. But she and Cas had had far more rigorous sessions other days, she thought curiously. Maybe it was just because Cas had been so worn out from his trip to Hell.

"The sleep doesn't last long, though," Crowley said. "So I'd be brief, if I were you."

"OK, I will," Gail responded. She was feeling edgy now, anxious to get back before Cas woke up and saw that she was gone. "What are we going to have to do to talk to Rowena?" She had come to the conclusion now that it was possible, and that Crowley knew how to do it. Dean had advised that Crowley seemed to have an idea, and she could just bet that he did.

"A couple of things," Crowley replied evasively. "Before we can possibly get to talk to her, we have to clear it through a certain individual. But this isn't a conversation I want to have over the phone."

Gail sighed. Of course. Of course not. But nonetheless, her heart filled with hope. So, there was a way, and Crowley knew it, and he was still willing to help her. But who was this "individual" he was talking about?

"All right, then: how can we meet in person?" she asked Crowley. "And what are we going to do about Cas?" It was funny; she was certainly spending a lot of time and effort lately trying to get rid of the man she loved, wasn't she? OK, maybe not so funny.

"Leave that to me," Crowley said.

Gail's heart sank. Another foray into Hell, to torture countless beings? They were certainly not saints if they were down there, but still... Chuck had been in Hell at one point, and so had Becky. And how about Frank? Were there others like them there, now suffering at Castiel's hands? Gail wavered between what was right, and what was right for her. Humans faced these kinds of dilemmas all the time, but Gail was literally part Angel and part Demon now, and the two sides were doing battle with each other.

The Angel won out for the moment. "Does he really have to..." she was momentarily at a loss for words "...do what he was doing today?"

"Growing a conscience, sweetheart?" Crowley said sardonically. "What do you think he's been doing this whole time, hosting tea parties?"

He was right, of course. She'd been sitting by and doing nothing except for washing Cas's bloody clothes, and being a mostly willing receptacle for him when he came home. Protecting herself. But, why was she doing it? To keep him placated, in the short term. But in the long term, Gail was doing all this plotting and scheming in order to find the cure and to restore Castiel to the kind of Angel and the kind of man she knew him to be. But, how many wrongs made a right, exactly? Did the end really justify the means?

So far, in her mind, it did. So she sighed and said, "Do what you have to do, Crowley. I leave it in your hands."

And, with those words, the clock on the mantel over the bunker's fireplace chimed. Christmas Day was officially over.