HEATHCLIFF STUDIOS - EVENING

Filming had wrapped on the latest episode of Inferno, but not as usual. The audience cleared out of studio 1A as soon as the show was over - there would be no meet and greet with the hosts that night, nor did they warm up the crowd, as Crowley and Balthazar had become uncharacteristically stingy with their time that day. And normally, as the set was being cleared, the show's stars would be in makeup or wardrobe getting de-whored by various monsters and demons who worked behind the scenes. But as soon as the episode wrapped, Legion, the head of studio security, dragged them and their PAs into his office. One of those rooms where one wall was all monitors showing almost everything that went on inside the studio.

"If this is another one of your 'ghost cat' hunts," Crowley told Legion, "you're sacked. And I don't think we had the sack laundered after Phillips."

"It's the Crossroads Machines, boss," Legion said, cueing up a video file on his desktop. "Remember when I told you it would be a good idea to-."

"Enough drumroll," Balthazar snapped. "Just play it."

Legion looked thoroughly annoyed - the demons didn't like Balthazar on a good day, but stepping on one's ability to kiss up to the boss was unforgivable. Not that he could do anything about it. With a quiet snarl, he clicked play and one of the larger monitors started playing black and white security feed from the Crossroads Machine at the Imperial Mall.

Everyone watched as Castiel stepped into frame, scowling at the high-angled camera, saying something inaudible. He drunkenly pulled back the hand that was holding his cappuccino, like he was about to chuck it, and looked like he'd just unleashed the granddaddy of all swears. Legion paused the video, and practically everyone in the room, Crowley included, burst out laughing. Oh yes, they remembered Castiel.

So did Balthazar, who looked for a moment like he'd just got a call from the principal of his kid's school - he was that special blend of concerned, confused, embarrassed, and pissed off evoked by having your family get you into trouble.

Crowley's laughter petered out into a sigh. "Oh, cherries and feathers. I'd almost forgotten about him."

"Him, who?" Shipley asked.

"You really are fresh off the truck," Crowley said. "That's Castiel, former Angel of Thursday. Currently Bobby Singer's common-law wife. I've been wondering what graceless angels do once their fighting days are behind them - apparently, it's having a nosh at Panera Bread."

That got another laugh from the room, but Legion had to get Crowley's attention. "More, boss. More."

Crowley narrowed his eyes on Legion. "More funny, or more... more?"

Legion clicked play again. Before Castiel could chuck his fancy coffee in defiance, Dean stepped into frame to talk him down and drag him away.

"Pause it," Crowley said quietly.

The hush that fell over the room let Shipley know this was a somebody. "Okay," he said, "so who's that guy?"

"It's Dean Winchester," Lydecker said, just a tad bit astonished.

Shipley smirked at that. He might as well have said it was the Easter Bunny. "What, as in 'The Winchesters'?" Everyone gave him a look. He was getting used to that.

"The Winchesters were real, dude," Lydecker whispered to him. "I told you."

"Yeah," Shipley said, "You also told me 'Panic' by the Smiths syncs flawlessly to the Thriller dance."

"I've got proof, watch-."

"What a minute," Shipley said, ignoring whatever Lydecker was about to do. "Angels can hear each other's bitching, right? Like NPR? Couldn't this Castiel guy use his to spy on us-."

"Oh, for the love of me," Balthazar said. "You have to be broadcasting for other angels to hear you and I'm not. Besides, he got rid of his years ago, he couldn't hear a word from any of us."

"How do you know that?" Legion asked suspiciously.

Balthazar let out a little nervous laugh. "Well, you know. Common knowledge, spread in Cosmo, that sort of thing. I mean, who doesn't know, am I right?"

Now everyone was giving the Shipley look to Balthazar.

"Fine, alright, I did it," he said. "Happy? Cas prayed for me to help put the voices in his head to rest. Relax, it's not like I gave him a panzer."

"You helped the angel Castiel?" Butcher asked. "And you didn't feel like sharing that information?"

Balthazar tried to ignore him, watching the monitor with a gloomy expression. Something about Dean didn't sit right with him."Oh, stop being ordinary. It was none of any of your business. Do I have to tell you everything?"

All eyes went to Crowley since the henchmen weren't sure what the answer to that question was, but bossman was still a little caught up in the security video. "Play it back again," he asked, a little too quietly. "They're like roaches. If you see one, there's bound to be more."

Dolly and Mog shared a look: More Winchesters? Score!

"You think Sam is back?" Balthazar asked.

"I really do," Crowley said wistfully. He turned to Balthazar with thoughtful-face, about to say ask something.

"No," Balthazar said.

"No, what?" Crowley asked, slightly offended.

"No, we're not bringing them in on our deal."

Crowley did his best to look shocked and insulted. As if he would suggest such a thing. But then said, "They might say yes," in a sing-song voice with a big smile, as though it was a tempting possibility.

"They might want to smite us for harvesting the souls of all humanity," Balthazar said, "so maybe we don't tell them our plans?"

Crowley sighed with totally real disappointment. "Fine, fine. Kill my fun, puncture my dreams. But if the Winchesters are back in play and we don't bring them over to our side, you can bet your tear-away pants they're coming after us."

Balthazar smiled a flirty, little smile at Crowley, who returned it. Something about the prospect of Sam and Dean Winchester declaring war on them was very diverting.