We get the call on Friday as suspected….but many many months too late. Despite being late, it is far too early on a Friday. As in in the middle of having fun with his two toys from Anton. It was his after breakfast aid for digestion. He had had a scone.

He sighs as the phone rings and sets down the scalpel. I sigh in relief, happy to no longer be watching. It is nothing compared to what these bodies were experiencing though. I say bodies because, after all, they had no souls anymore. Those were in the fishtank.

I didn't want to think about these bodies' reactions to what is happening to them. That is what's making me feel odd, not the torture.

Crowley removes the gloves from his hands and drops them in the trash before picking up his phone.

"Yes? I'm in the middle of practice."

"Crowley. There are three of them." Hisses Samantha.

"And?"

"That is more than one!"

"You can count. Wonderful."

"Crowley! We didn't prepare for three!"

"Always prepare for more than you will face! Are you new at this? Did I hire green hunters?"

"Crowley, just get your ass-" Crowley rolls his eyes and, after apperating a jar with a familiar white light into his hand, we are standing next to Samantha. He is careful to arrive out in the open and walk under the overhang so that any live feeds from a satellite would see him arrive, but not what was happening after. "-down here. Fuck!" We stand outside a motel, stucco siding and clay roof, in the desert heat. We are at the corner, looking around it at the front of the building. Crowley quickly does a glance around for security cameras, and parked cars within view. There are none, not that aren't already broken. He nods to Samantha as soon as he is done, which is about 5 seconds later.

"Hello know, you were supposed to handle this for me, and call me when it was done." As he talks he starts the 'shower curtain' strategy, a standard when going into battle now.

"Why? Why not just do it yourself?" Asks Samantha.

"I'm busy."

"Yeah. With what?"

"Think about that for a second, do you really want to know?" George comes out from behind the building before Samantha can answer. He is still wearing flannel, a different one, but still flannel.

"Two more out back." At this Crowley frowns. This was far too many. Something was going on, besides the attack on him. "Their cars are armored too. Presidential level shit. Oh, uh... Crowley."

"George. Dan here?"

"Sniping position across the street." That was unusual, and Crowley's pause and glance across the street and back to Samantha says so. "Army, black ops. Whole squad was killed by werewolves in Iraq. Cept for him."

"And he wasn't bitten?"

"Oh no, he was. He eats all his meat raw and only snipes, never close combat. It's been hard, but…" Crowley blinks. That was interesting. Perhaps that explained the stronger reaction to the song shot. Still he hid it well.

"I could cure him, just like that, in 10 years…" They both pause and look at Crowley.

"No. He'll say no." This was more interesting.

"Why? I've gotten 100's of contracts from people who want to be human again. Even if it only lasts 10 years."

"Do you know how many times his nose has saved our asses? He wouldn't give that up, even if it means Purgatory." I mean, I know what I'd ask for if I was a werewolf. I wouldn't want to get rid of all that awesome stuff either.

Crowley listens to Samantha, and to me, and nods.

"Humans, always so self sacrificing. Very well. How about I just get rid of that pesky craving for human flesh then?" Both the hunters are still looking at Crowley. Samantha nods to George who dashes to the back to keep watch and she takes a peek around the front. No one yet.

After confirming that she turns to Crowley.

"Why are you being so nice again? You have what you want from us."

"Good employees get bonuses. Also it gets a worker back into close combat."

"We aren't your employees!" Samantha hisses.

"Of course you are. I-" Crowley pauses as he hears a door click and stands perfectly still.

"Yo-"

"Shhh. Movement." Crowley holds up a hand and watches as one man in a black suit with sunglasses and blonde dreads leaves. Carrying an ice bucket. As soon as he steps out of sight of the window Crowley raises his hand to snap. Samantha grabs it.

"They couldn't change the warding on the bunker quickly enough, it's too old, but they have new wards. Snapping might not work, and as soon as you snap they will know you are here. As soon as one of them dies, they will know." He lowers his hand and waits for the man to get out of earshot before looking back at Samantha.

"So what exactly did you call me here for? If I'm shooting blanks?"

"We want to do what you did in the bunker. Trap. With you as bait."

"I don't do bait darling."

"How bout bait and trap and killer?"

"And we do that how? Without me losing another suit? Or getting shot full of paralyzing bullets. And without my powers?" Samantha smiles and kicks a bag toward Crowley.

"We been doin work too."

Crowley looks at the bag and takes something black and heavy from it. A bullet proof vest.

"Really?"

"It's got its own warding. Strong stuff too." Crowley waves a hand over it and sigils glow. He reads over them quickly. He couldn't spot any that might be detrimental to him if they actually worked.

"Are these demon specific by any chance? Not just to trap me, in any way?"

"...Yes?"

"Just for me, how nice." He waves and the vest is over his shirt and under his suit jacket. He buttons his coat, despite the heat, to hide the very slight wrinkles the vest causes. "I feel like I'm an agent again, hunting with my sidekick. I suppose that makes you up and coming Agent Mooselette."

"No." Says Samantha.

"Very well. So, I've put on this lovely costume, what next? I'm dying to know."

"You go in, distract them, while George searches for the wards and sigils outside and in their cars. He will cover the back as soon as the other two enter. Dan will cover the front."

"And you?" Sam grins.

"I'm a hostage, throw me at them and I'll create confusion so you can destroy the sigils-."

"No."

"What?"

"Won't work, they don't care about you. They care about me. If you have something that...tames my inner demon, or kills me with a thought, they will be interested. Especially if they think you can get rid of me before they can make a thorough examination." Samantha pauses.

"We don't have anything like that, not that will work fast enough." Crowley laughs that single light huff of a laugh and waves his hand.

"How lucky then that I do." And with a wave he hands The Colt over to Samantha, who stares.

"Is that really-"

"Replica darling. Probably."

"Probably?!"

"Why should I tell you? Makes it more fun."

"It could kill you and ruin our plan!"

"Oh yes, it would most definitely kill me, but that's why I have a back up plan." He touches the jar in his pocket that had the piece of my soul. Reinforced plexiglass jar with runes and a cursed lid only he could open.

He has 3 right now, in boxes and jars. He had figured out a loophole long ago. As long as the souls he had parts of stashed were of different magnitudes, percentages, he would fly to the biggest or closest one first, then the second, then the third. Not ripped apart at all like we thought. So if anything could ever kill him and his current contract holder...well he still had those souls. He still preferred using mine when doing missions, keeping the spark close so he could get back into the fight faster.

Sam stares at him.

"A backup plan...for death."

"Yes. Everyone should have one. Now, if we're ready?" She brings a pair of cuffs out of her pocket and Crowley raises a brow, insinuating something that makes Samantha sigh.

"Cuffs first, it won't seem real otherwise." Crowley holds out his hands, and Samantha raises a brow at his willingness. We hadn't tested Enochian cuffs yet, but now was as good a time as any. The cuffs are cold, and sting as metal below zero degrees does.

"Go check with your friends, I'll wait eagerly for you to get back." Samantha scrunches her nose in disgust but goes to check George at the corner and text Dan. Crowley takes the time to test the cuffs. He snaps, one of the cuffs opens. "Well then. Hollywood here we come."

"What?" Says Sam as she walks back.

"Just musing on what I'll do with the last survivor this time. What do you prefer, flaying or-" Says Crowley as he twists his wrist against the other to close the cuff.

"Nope. Not discussing that with you." Samantha grabs Crowley by the arm roughly and tugs him towards the door, out from under the overhang. Crowley tugs back a bit, putting on a show.

"Hey! Careful with the goods!"

"You want this realistic? Not being gentle."

"Darling, gentle and careful are not the same thing. Please, be rough, just do it with-."

"Oh shut up." I chuckle, this girl was having none of Crowley's snark or flirtation, real or not. She is shutting him down faster than a teen shuts down a computer when their mom walks in unannounced.

We stop at the door and Samantha holds up the gun to Crowley's head. I have no clue if it is the real one or not. This is going to be interesting, most definitely painful, but interesting.

"Knock." Says Samantha, pushing the gun into his head. Crowley complies.

All sound inside stops, what little there was. Soon steps, audible only to Crowley, approach the door. There is silence again, followed by muffled whispered words and shuffling.

"Knock again." Says Samantha as she jams the gun against his skull with more force.

"Of course, darling. Anything for you." He is about to knock when the door opens to reveal 3 men and one woman in suits with guns trained on Crowley. He holds both his hands up, giving them a full view of the cuffs. "Ladies, gents. I come in peace." He is shoved in.

"Whether he wants to or not." Says Samantha as she holds him by the collar now. As soon as he steps over the threshold we can both feel a slight tingle of magic, and Crowley immediately begins to look around the room for symbols and artefacts. He looks slowly, with the pretense of being interested in his surroundings, his new prison, more than looking For something.

"Crowley, hunter Samantha. To what do we owe the pleasure, so long after we contacted you at the bunker?" Asks an older woman with striking short blond hair and a suit dress that sports a short tight skirt. She stands to the side, visible now that we are in the room. She is obviously in charge of the far more than three agents here.

"Contacted? You brits really don't get the meaning of working together do you? If you had, I dunno, maybe, Called instead of tieing us fucking up and comandeering our base, things might be different now!"

"You really don't kn-" Crowley is shaken by Samantha.

"Shut up, you don't get to speak after what you did." Crowley turns his head to look at Samantha, intrigued. What exactly had he done?

"Explain." Says short blonde hair.

"You don't know what happened in the bunker, do you?" The woman remains quiet. Not answering, not giving any information away. She was smart. However, Sam was blunt. "DO YOU! You don't know what he did!"

"The details, no. We know that all of our agents are dead while you remain. We gained no new information besides the fact that you cooperated with him and his form is different."

"Yeah, and what do you get when you work with a demon?!" There is silence. "You get betrayed!" The woman looks at Crowley.

"And what exactly did you do?"

"A lot less than what I will do to you Jakobs." Ah, so this was Jakobs. "You betrayed me. Me! I do the betraying!"

"Not according to the Winchester's reports." Crowley chuckles, snaps his fingers almost absentmindedly. Everyone still flinches.

"The three of us were in a very arousingly toxic relationship. You don't make the cut for such romance darling."

"And I am thankful for that every day. Now." Jakobs turns to Samantha. "What do you want in exchange for him?" Crowley snaps again and people flinch. Jakobs returns her gaze to Crowley. "Stop that, or I will stop you. It is not doing anything, so why do you insist on making that noise?"

"It's making you flinch, which I enjoy very much. Taste of what's to come when I get you under-"

"Enough." Snap. "Enough! Samantha, what do you want?"

"I want access to my mother's books, I want them sent here," snap "and I want the results of any research you do with this bastard." Snap.

"Why not return? Come work for us?" Snap.

"Work for you?" Snap. "You're the biggest dicks I know, besides him." Snap. "Efficient dicks, but still dicks." Snap. Snap. People are no longer flinching from the snaps, as it is obvious that he can't do anything. That's what he wants them to think anyway.

"I notice all of your wards have been efficiently put into two balls over there. What do you call those little marvels?" Crowley inclines his head to two purple orbs on the table. There is smoke inside them, it spins and twitches as if alive, searching.

"Some of the wards are in there. We are not ones to foolishly put all our eggs in one basket. And they are called Orbs of Takaar. After agent Takaar, their creator, whom you killed in the bunker." One of the agents pointing his gun at us shifts. Crowley looks at him. He has the same nose as one of the agents from the bunker.

"Pity, they look interesting. Odd how you separate the wards into types, the one on the right preventing me from doing things. Why not mix it with the perimeter alarms?"

"The spell does not work that way. To be potent enough to stop all forms of interference it must be focused on one job only."

"So it works even against...demon magic, The Colt? Really, I find that implausible." There is silence. Jakobs turns back to Samantha.

"Samantha, do we have a deal?" Snap. "Crowley, for your mother's books and research regarding him?" Snap. Samantha is silent. Snap. A slight dip in the pressure happens, and suddenly we can all tell it has been slowly lessening over the whole conversation. Jakobs turns to Crowley. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I'm impotent, shooting blanks." Jakobs turns to Samantha. Two of the guns on Crowley raise a bit to her head.

"Your affiliates I assume?"

"What? No. Dan is outside with a sniper rifle loaded with devil's trap bullets in case Crowley escapes."

"And George?"

"Demon knife, checking the perimeter for demons."

"The demon's don't care if Crowley is taken out, they are demons." Snap.

"Jakobs, you have no idea the depths to which you are wrong. If you were any more wrong, you'd be in Hell. With my friends." Snap.

Samantha's pocket vibrates, and she nudges Crowley. That is apparently the signal.

"Crowely, y-" Snap. "Crowely, you-"

"No. Your conversation is with me! And… and I want one more thing."

"Yes?" Snap.

"I want my mother's dossier. Complete. No redactions." There is silence.

"We cannot do that Sam."

"Don't call me SAM!" Samantha quickly takes the gun and shoots one of the orbs, the one on the right, sending shards everywhere. Snap. There went the one painted ward inside that wasn't in the orb, the absence of its energy covered by the larger loss of the orb. "Only my MOTHER got to call me Sam and You got her killed! I know you did! Last I heard from her she had gotten a call from you. I found her a week later, dead! What did you do!?"

"Samantha, she chose to go. She-" Snap.

There is the sound of tinkling glass and everyone looks to the right. The remaining Orb of Takaar is in shards, the smoke escaping into the ether.

"Oops." Jakobs turns back to us as Crowley speaks.

"Shoot Hi-" Snap. We are both gone, Samantha too, standing outside. Inside there is the sound of scrambling and yelling. Samantha quickly kneels behind a car, ready to take a shot with The Colt as soon as someone steps out. Crowley walks up to the window of the room and knocks on it.

"Out here gents. Fresh air is good for the soul." The sounds inside stop, and Crowley vanishes away just before bullets shatter the glass. Good timing, as always.

He stands in the middle of the parking lot, just in sight of the window and door. He looks down at the cuffs and snaps, and they open. He sighs and takes them off, holding them with one finger.

"I really hated these things. Transportable devil's trap. Worse than the bullets really." There is a bang and Crowley is pushed backward, bullet in his chest...in the vest. He looks down and picks it out. "Don't get me wrong, I still hate the bullets." Samantha looks at Crowley for a brief second, curious, but then returns her gaze to the door in case they are actually stupid enough to come out.

"What do you want Crowley?!" Yells Jakob's from inside.

"To be bloody left alone! We had a deal Jakobs, it was a good deal, and then you went and broke it!"

"I did not break the deal in the least. Nothing in the contract said any-"

"Yes, nothing about torturing me, but you really hurt my feelings."

"Crowley, you are a demon, you don't have feelings, unless you are back on the blood."

"No, I found something better. In fact…" He pauses. No. No no nonono. I know what's coming. No. Crowley. No. Don't make me feel it.

"I'll be nice, just one." Oh thank god. He snaps and one of the men stands before him, gun trained toward the door. Crowley tries to control him, make him pull the trigger, but nothing happens. "Huh. That's a new trick." The man spins toward Crowley but he raises his hand and the man speeds towards him, ending with his neck in Crowley's hand. "More than one then." No. No. He closes his hand and I can feel the bones crack. Visceral, real. Close.

It is his newest form of high, of torture. Putting my soul into his body, so he can feel the world through me. I feel this man's windpipe break beneath what are essentially my hands. I can feel his pulse stop. I can feel his life end.

No matter how bad these people were, it is a horrifying feeling. Not just because it is murder, but because I don't have a choice as to who dies. Perhaps, if I got mad enough, scared enough, I could kill a person. Perhaps. But this, this is just extermination, clean up...fun. So it makes me cringe and want to hide in myself. It horrifies me. Makes me feel guilty. And Crowley loves it. The first time he did this, it was a surprise for him, and he had paused for a moment. He hadn't felt bad about killing for a Long time. Long long long time. It was a novelty he could experience vicariously and not himself, a novelty he could discard if it started to actually affect him.

It hadn't. Not yet.

So until I grow used to this too, this is yet another way he can use me. Because Crowley was wrong, I grew used to things. That's what humans do. Grow used to things. Endure. They did that, or they broke. I haven't broken yet.

I hope one day I will.

Crowley drops the body and wipes his hands together.

"Next?"

The Men of Letters have a choice now. Get teleported out one by one and be killed, or go on the offensive outside and risk it.

Two come out the door quickly, one is shot in the leg by Samantha and the other drops from a bullet that seemingly comes from nowhere.

Dan.

The one remaining fills the space of the one that fell and uses their body for partial cover with the door frame. They shoot and their bullet hits the tire just in front of Samantha. She flinches and ducks further behind the car. Crowley walks forward slowly.

"Careful Mooselette. They have guns you know."

"Shut the fuck up Crowley and Help."

"If you insist." He snaps and the neck of the one crawling back inside turns around so he is facing his own back. Thank god, I didn't have to feel that one. Not all of them are warded. Crowley smiles internally, happy that he has corrupted me so much that I could feel relief when he kills someone a certain way. I'm ashamed, a bit. I'm too busy being terrified of what I will feel next through his hands. He walks forward and there is a shout from around the building. Crowley glances up and sees Jakobs walking around the corner...holding George with his own pistol against his head.

"Sorry guys. She kinda took me by surprise, with magic." Crowley sighs. Humans.

"Move a muscle and he dies."

"George!"

"Sam, just do what she says. They want Crowley right, let's give them Crowley."

"Standing right here."

"Oh you'll be fine, you'll escape." Says Samantha.

"Yes, but it's a waste of time."

"The Colt! Kick The Colt over!" Calls Jakobs. Crowley sighs and snaps. The two agents in the door fall to the ground.

"Crowley! She has George! She could have killed him!"

"And give up her leverage with you? Don't be stupid. She kills him, I do worse to her." Jakobs stands still. "So, I'd like to make a deal."

"Now Crowley?!" Yells Samantha, incredulous and angry that he could think of trying to get souls at a time like this. That wasn't what this deal was about. Not even close. Crowley slowly starts walking toward Samantha and Jakobs, who thrusts the gun harder against George's head.

"Always Mooselette. Now, Jakobs wants to learn about me. The only reason this is going on, is because they want information. More than ever apparently, now that I'm working with hunters again. Am I right?" Jakobs is silent. "So, remove her interest, or give her what she wants." There is silence.

"You'd...do that for us?"

"Hell no. But you have the means right there." Samantha looks at the gun, then back to Crowley. Jakobs pushes the pistol into George again.

"Kill him and this one dies!"

"C'mon sweetheart. It's all my fault. Do it."

"He'll die." Says the newly named Mooselette.

"No he won't. Trust me."

"Crowley, I will kill him!"

"I don't particularly care. However, she does. So if killing me will get you information…" He looks back to Samantha. "Trust me?"

"Never! Jesus H Christ I'm not an idiot!"

"Fair. But we are at an impasse, because if I couldn't control the other guard I'm assuming that this." He snaps, and nothing happens. "Will do nothing to you. Warding? Where?"

"Not telling. Now, the Colt." Says Jakobs again.

"Darling, all you want to know is if I'm immortal so-"

"No. I want to know everything." Crowley pauses.

"Well. That's a bit of a tall order, but…" The Colt is in his hand. He looks at it. Turns it over. "You know...I did kill myself to save the world once."

"Crowley…" Jakobs threatens with a shake of the pistol.

"Please. That may work with the girl, but on me? You don't even have a meat shield any more." He aims the gun at her. She pauses as Samantha screams. Crowley was right, she had nothing. Unless she was smart.

Which she was.

She quickly removes the pistol from George's head...and places it against her own. Crowley blinks, his head tilting; inquiring, intrigued.

"Huh."

"It will be a headshot. I will die. And you will not find out how much I know, how much I've sent back to Britain. You are smart Crowley, you know you will not be able to possess the bodies of my agents, we do not let that happen. So. Kill me, and you will have to go into the viper's nest blind to find out what we know. Or...give me the Colt. Come with me, and perhaps we can come up with a deal."

"Like the one you previously violated?"

"No. An official contract. Signed and notarized." Crowley pauses, this could still work. He just needed to get George away. He could win in an instant if he didn't care about maintaining a relationship with these hunters, but he had plans. Long term ones I assumed by how much he wanted them to like, or at least tolerate, him. He sighs.

"Fine. Although, I know for a fact that there will be no deal once I hand you this. You were being polite. How very British."

"You are not wrong, Crowley. Now, the Colt if you please?" Crowley sighs in defeat, and with a wave The Colt is on the ground by her feet. Where he wants it. "Excellent." She kneels, taking George with her, turning him slightly so he is between her and the street, where she thinks the sniper bullet came from. She quickly puts George's gun in her pocket, and picks up the Colt. While she is kneeling Crowley waves a finger, and one of the dead agent's gun's slides under the car. Sam notices, but doesn't react.

Instead she waits till Jakobs stands up and yells.

"Let George go!"

"No. I do not think so. Not until I am inside and out of sight of your sniper. Crowley?"

"With you darling. Lead the way."

"No, you first, and no teleporting."

"If you insist."

They walk back into the room, Crowley waving his hands as he enters to move the dead bodies, shift them around so it isn't as obvious that a gun is missing.

Ten steps ahead. Always.

"Not always Chew Toy, it's why I have you. I may have to improvise, and I expect your full assistance."

"What?" Jakobs asks as she makes sure that all the guns from her agents are inside.

"Darling, you wanted me to lay myself bare for you to explore, well, besides getting naked I can't bare myself more."

"We are missing a gun."

"Astute." She pauses as there is a click behind her.

"Drop him." George stiffens.

"Samantha, don't be stupid."

"Yes Samantha, listen to him. Now. Drop it, or I will drop George, and the landing won't be what kills him."

"Jakobs, just walk in backwards for Hell's sake and drop the meat."

"And open my back to you Crowley? No. Samantha, drop it, and kick it over. George will then pick it up, hand it to me, and I will proceed to enter. Crowley, you will exit the building, now, so I may back in with the gun trained on you."

"For Hell's sake." There is a snap and the gun in Samantha's hand vanishes, as does Samantha."

"Where did you send her!"

"A block away. Now can we get on with this! Drop the boy and let's get down and-"

"Shut up Crowley. Bring the gun back." There is a snap and the gun apparates just inside the door. "Good, the others inside too." Jakobs pushes George to the side and to the ground, then enters, closing the door behind her as soon as a snap brings the other guns inside.

"Now that I have gotten rid of the distraction, shall we get down to business?"

"Darling, you just got rid of your only leverage." Jakobs blinks. "I do, on rare occasions, lie."

"I want information Crowley, but I will not hesitate to kill you-"

"Please. Go ahead." Crowley steps forward, closing the gap, The Colt pointed at his head.

"Crowley-" He raises his hand, outstretched, reaching for her throat. Three seconds and he would snap her neck the old fashioned way.

There is a bang.

And we die.

A-fucking-gain.

The weightlessness and the pull in various directions are normal, expected. The slight sting from a devil's trap hidden underneath the carpet, is new. He couldn't hide behind a soul in this form, so the trap is a bit more effective. He swirls against it, hitting the edges and throwing himself against the invisible walls.

He didn't like this, but it was an inconvenience at best. Until she quickly drags his body out of the circle.

Then he is mad. But he is incensed when she begins to search his body… And of course finds the jar.

"And what do we have here? A baby soul? I've never seen one before. Is it your pet?" She holds it up to Crowley who thrashes, pure hate consuming him, and therefore me. She chuckles and tries to open the jar. Black lightning emerges from the lid and snakes up her hand. Her whole body tenses until it reaches her head, after which she shakes and it dissipates.

"Well, I guess we will have our curse breakers look at that later." Jakobs sets it down and takes a closer look at the demon she has trapped. "Fascinating. What are these white specks in your smoke?" Crowley can't respond, and she can't very well reach in and take one, she'd lose a hand. Probably. I didn't know exactly how it worked, but I assumed it'd suck for her.

"It would. I hope she does." Jakobs circles him, us.

"And these two orbs… are those souls? Are you just keeping them with you? Why?" Crowley fumes and thrashes against the edges, flying up to the ceiling and slamming back down, causing the room to shake with the force. I am filled with his anger, and with that seeps in all the things he wants to, is going to do, to this woman. It is... A lot.

"So...how to study this...Shall we start with electricity? I would like to have you to myself a bit before the rest of them. I'd like to see if I can get you to drop one of those souls."

Throw me. Crowely could drop me. I could distract her…

"To what purpose Chew Toy?" I don't know… I don't really know, but I hate being imprisoned. I had made my own prison with Crowley; this one, was one neither of us had chosen. Inside the smoke, I felt confined, but it felt infinite. Here, I can see the cage, and I hate it. Really hate it.

"Well, we agree on something. Would you care to assist me with her when I get out?" I mean, that really depends on what that fucking means. He is immune to most forms of damage and...stuff, in this form, but it was boring and he can't touch shit. ...Can he be touched though? He can be manipulated by symbols… magic...what else?

"I think we are about to find out." Jakobs is returning with a container. It is glass and lightning like energy sparks inside it like a tiny storm. She doesn't even speak, she just takes the jar, and throws it at the ground in the center of the circle. It doesn't break, because carpet, but it does send flashes of thunderless lightning up into the air. They slash through Crowley's smoke, finding a home in the red cloud. One hits me and I am thrown upward. Crowley races after me, ignoring his own pain, focused more on what I might tell Jakobs if I fall out of the circle.

"Interesting." She pauses and goes to her phone. A call is placed. "Gregory. Execute order 23 around my location. I want roads blocked off and a retinue of cars outside the building with FBI markings. This will be extraction after I conduct some studies, we will conduct more here in the states before returning. Yes, there were some losses. Of course I have him. No, you can read about it in my report. Yes. Keep me updated."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I did not want to be the property of the Men of Letters. Noooo fuck no. After they finished 'researching' me, I'd either be stuck on a shelf and catalogued, or used as a bargaining chip. I do not know which was worse. I do not want to find out. Fuck. Crowley, plan, please have a plan. Fuck. This is not great. I'd go over how twisted it was that I'd prefer to be with the demon who tortured me than these guys, but for now, bigger fucking proooblems! Crowley is silent, if he has a plan, he isn't sharing it. Perhaps in case I get captured, perhaps because he doesn't have one.

Jakobs turns back to us.

"Shall we try the lightning again?"

Holy fire burns the carpet beneath us, and Crowley is recoiling a bit. It isn't hurting as much as it should, but it still fucking hurts. We had been painfully poked and prodded for three hours. Jakobs had taken hundreds of notes, on paper interestingly. She is doing so now, when there is a knock.

She pulls the Colt out and heads to the door. Holding it up at waist level she looks through the peephole. She puts the pistol away and then opens the door.

"Martinez, about time."

"Apologies. Th-"

"Save it. Get the transfer equipment. We are moving now. Type three." The man named Martinez is round faced with a near pencil thin mustache and wiry hair. He is thickly built and obviously ready for a fight. Despite that he looks nervous at the mention of whatever type three is.

"Ma'am. Type three is extremely risky. Why not use a meat-"

"Because he broke out of enochian handcuffs while in a meatsuit, but cannot break out of the circle now. So. Type three." Well that show of power had come back to bite his smoke. "And get me an artifact transport box." At this the aforementioned Martinez looks at the gun and his eyes widen.

"Is that..."

"I cannot say. It did not kill him, but he is supposedly 'immortal' according to the renegade demon. So. Pack it." Oh good, they don't know.

Two other men come in with a large slate of metal, a devil's trap engraved on it. They slide it under Crowley, careful not to stick any extremity inside the current circle. Crowley thrashes, nearly hitting them in the face, but they don't flinch. They pick up the metal and, after scratching the circle beneath, carry it to the door. We move with it. Shit. I briefly wonder what would happen if they hadn't scratched the other circle.

"I get to choose where I stay, unless there is the slightest imperfection or tilt. If the circles aren't perfectly parallel, I get to leave." Jeez, yeah, type three is dangerous. They should really have a rolly thing. "I'll be sure to let their corpses know."

There is a large armored truck outside, open and waiting like a cage for a dog. Inside is a table with latches to hold the metal sheet, and a myriad of tools and more equipment that did not look friendly.

We are carried outside and are half way to the truck when one of the men drops to the ground. The metal falls with a clatter and Crowley flails as it spins, grabbing hold of the other agent and twisting. He couldn't possess the man, but he could sure as Hell throw him.

Like a scene from a fucking Japanese monster movie Crowley throws the man into the air and then slams him into the wall, brains visible from the split skull.

Two more men, one being Martinez, come out from nearby cars and one drops immediately from another silent gunshot.

Dan. He hadn't fucking moved an inch for the hours we were inside. Jakobs figured the hunters would have left after she got Crowley. She was very wrong. I can't say Crowley and I weren't surprised either. There were a number of reasons to stay, but many in favor of leaving as well. It wasn't betrayal if they honestly didn't think they could succeed. Retreat and try again with better supplies. If they never ended up thinking they were ready, well they could be dead before Crowley escaped.

The other agent ducks behind the truck as Jakobs comes out.

"What is going-"

There is a blur and the other agent is knocked to the ground, a slightly furry creature on top of it. The agent's throat is ripped out by claws moments later.

"Huh. Hello Dan." Yeah, a lot of surprises today. Also...Then who was on the roof? Jakobs rushes back inside for the Colt and Dan growls, eyes glowing as he starts to chase after her.

"Dan, run! I got this!" George is running forward full tilt toward us. Dan looks at the body below him for one second before, with great effort, he turns and runs. Jakobs returns to see the werewolf running away, and George running forward. She takes aim and shoots…

And George slides into the devil's trap like it's home base and the guy batting had hit a pop up.

"NO!"

It was too late. Crowley has a meatsuit. I could only thank Hell that he had as much presence of mind, or smoke, as he did, because he drops both the other soul and I as he enters his new suit. Jakobs is shooting with The Colt...and nothing is happening. It's out of bullets. Why would Crowley load more than two after all. He needed one to 'kill' him, and one in case, by some freak accident, the first missed. Jakobs was so enthralled with her research she had forgotten to check the chambers.

Crowley stands and dusts himself off. With a smile he walks over the circle and up to Jakobs, who drops the gun and runs back inside. As soon as he is out of the circle he bursts out of George and rushes back to his own vessel. George shakes himself and looks down at the two orbs of light. Both of them starting to float into the room.

"Uh…Nooooo?" He reaches out and grabs me.

"Hey! Listen!"

George stares at the white blue orb in his hand.

"Re...Really?"

"Oh my god, wouldn't you? Like Crowley would be amused by that reference." After the initial joy at finally being able to use the joke I only thought of After leaving the bunker the first time, we stand at a very metaphorical crossroads. The King of Hell could be killed right now...If the woman inside had the means, which she could. Maybe. If he died I was free. If he died, who knew how bad the next demon to take over Hell would be. If he died, I'd probably be tortured by angels or demons. Right now, the numerous bits of souls he had were enough to help him resist holy water, salt, but he still needed a full soul as well as those small bits for the big stuff, like getting out of a trap, or dying. Right now... He could theoretically perish… if he hadn't kept a big spark from his current contract.

If we didn't help him and he survived… But if he died I could be free…. But what freedom entailed. All of this passes through my head in seconds when George speaks.

"He can help my friend." And with an arm that tells me he played first base, he throws me inside. I zoom through the air towards Crowley, towards the jar in his pocket.

Inside Jakobs and Crowley are in a standoff. Crowley standing in front of the door, Jakobs with a gun surely loaded with devil's trap bullets. They are staring at each other as I fly in and curve toward Crowley's pocket. Crowley doesn't even look, he just snaps and my trajectory changes. Jakobs watches in fascination as I fly home, presenting a spectacle that looks very much like I'm being eaten. He pushes me around, starts the shower curtain strategy, and then Crowley cocks his head and smiles at Jakobs.

"They tingle going down. Now...where were we?" Jakobs frowns.

"I was about to put you down with the weight of-"

"Of what? A devil's trap? You know how well that worked out." Crowley pauses, and snaps. There is an exclamation from outside and the other soul rushes towards him. Jakobs shoots, and the bullet does indeed start to hold him...but the other soul is already on its way home. The shot had come too late. As soon as the soul settles next to me Crowley straightens and looks at the hole in his coat, and shoulder, and looks back up.

"Ow."

He's beside her, not playing games this time, one hand around her throat, the other tearing the gun from her hand. It clatters to the ground with finality and for a brief moment there is silence.

"My turn love. We are going to have such fun, you and I."

And the door to the room slams close.

Ten hours this time, and I got to feel each and every second through his hands. I am numb. I knew the feeling of flesh under blade when I was alive, but not like this. Never like this. There is so much blood, and Jakobs is still alive. Somehow. Despite missing fingers, sliced open muscle, burned eyelids, pulled teeth...and worse. Somehow she is still alive.

"There is no somehow, Chew Toy, she is alive because I want her to be." That is true. Crowley wipes off his hands with one of the towels from the bathroom and looks at the woman before him. Tired, broken, but somehow proud and defiant. She gave up her secrets, finally, not but 20 minutes ago, but she still looks at Crowely with hate and fire. "Don't worry, I'll cut that out of her in our next session." There is a yell at the door and a growl. Crowley looks up at Jakobs while he finishes wiping off his favorite scalpel.

"Your ride is here." With a single finger the door opens and growling fills the room as Jakobs looks up at the nothing that is squishing bodies beneath its paws. "Growley. Fetch for papa."

There is a loud growl and a last scream from Jakobs as she is rent apart by teeth she can only see with her last breath. Crowley cleans off the next implement as he watches his pet devour not just the soul, but the body, the clothing, and some of the bones.

"Good girl. Now...do you have room for more?" The Hellhound looks up at this, and Crowley points to the rest of the bodies. "I know you're eating for thirteen now." Huh. Did Not know that. As the demonic dog heads over to the other bodies Crowley waves and sends his tools back to Hell. "Just over a month ago. Should have pups in another 2 to 15 months." What? That...what? "Hell darling. Depending on what they eat, they grow fast or slow. Hell isn't exactly great at Creating new life. So, for new pups…" She needs to eat the weight of what the pups will be. "Bingo." He walks out of the room and into the parking lot. George and Samantha have burgers, fries, and ribs set out in the back of the transport truck. Dan has some raw meat, rabbit, from what Crowley can tell. Fresh. And by the bones on the ground, the fourth one.

"Running around suburbia hunting rabbits?" Dan growls, a sound far different than what we have heard from him before. He had hidden his condition well.

"Sniped em. Were terrorizin the communal garden. Won't no more." He says from back in the truck, out of sight from the 'normies.'

Samantha looks through the door at the bodies slowly disappearing, and takes a bite from her own burger.

"Pet?"

"Her name is Growley. Want to pet her? She bites."

"Yeah, no. So. You find out what you need?"

"Got a cloud password, and confirmation that the files cannot be downloaded without another password from her."

"And if she's lyin?" Asks George through a mouthful of fries. Crowley looks at the hunters, some covered in blood, watching an invisible force eat corpses in front of them, while they eat their own dinner.

"Darling, that's what viruses are for. And bombs. And further torture sessions until her soul turns into putty."

"You can do that? I thought souls couldn't be destroyed?" Says Dan through what I think is a leg.

"With specific types of torture."

"Like?" Asks Samantha.

"Ah-ah. You want info, we make a deal."

"Ok." Crowley pauses and looks back from watching Dan inhale a rabbit to Samantha.

"Really?" She puts her burger down.

"You said you could...get rid of the addiction, the urges, for Dan?"

"Darling, with a contract, I can change nearly anything."

"Ok, then add it to ours." Crowley thinks, and looks at the group. They had essentially saved him, even if for selfish purposes… I wasn't sure about that though. And because I wasn't sure, Crowley is going to ask. If I wasn't there he would assume it was either self righteous stupidity, or selfishness that brought them back. Since I am there, sowing doubt, he is going to ask.

"Why did you come back? To help?" Dan pauses.

"Job wasn't done." He goes back to...I think ribs… and skull. Crowley watches him, then looks at Samantha.

"We have a contract."

"That would have gone into the ether if I died. That contract was with me, not Hell."

"Yeah, but it was a deal." The sound of ice trying to go through a straw in an empty drink comes from the left. George puts his soda onto the front of the car. "We don't break deals. Well, we try not to. Sides, you can help Dan, right?" Crowley looks at the group, his hunters. They were his now, because they didn't break deals. Just like him. If they meant this...This could be a very long, multi generational partnership if he played his cards right. He flicks his hand and a contract appears, the short one, it grows 7 inches and new words form.

"Alright." They all stop eating and look at him.

"What?" Asks Samantha.

"What do you not understand about that Mooselette? I agree to your terms."

"Yeah...but there weren't any. We asked a favor, an addition to the contract, we heard nothing from you."

"I just changed the wording a bit." He looks at the contract and reads "'As long as the parties in question remain in the employ of the party of the first part and complete the jobs requested of them within a timely manner or five years, unless given reprieve or otherwise are unable to complete the job, they shall be healed of all ailments at his behest and shall, suffer no ill effects from unwanted ailments, or parts thereof, obtained during, or prior, to the contract.'" He rolls it up and they stare. "So, are you setting up a kissing booth, or am I just waiting for you to clean barbeque sauce off your lips."

"No. No. There has to be more than that. You get nothing more from this deal than what you had in the previous one."

"Not true. Line two. Definition of parties in question. You three, your descendants, anyone who joins your group, all confirmed by a signature and a kiss." George stands and Dan growls, leaning forward, the blood in his mouth bringing out the wolf he had kept hidden. Samantha sits.

"And what about under employ… what does that mean? Are we at your beck and call?"

"Same definition as before. You hunt, and if I happen to point your very pretty nose in a direction…" Sam looks at the other two, slowly understanding what Crowley wants, what he wanted from the moment he saw them.

"You want a multigenerational partnership with the group of hunters that live in the bunker. Why?" Crowley tilts his head in admittance.

"If you haven't noticed, you seem to be adept at saving the world. I'd like to have that on my side, I think we could-"

"And if we have to save it from you?"

"You won't. I run Hell. I don't want to run that, and Hell on earth."

"What do you want?" Crowely sighs loudly and rolls his eyes.

"To be king and collect souls."

"Any why should we let you?" Asks George.

"George." Starts Samantha.

"No, it's a valid question." Crowley looks at George for a moment and takes a deep breath. "There is a small village, down in Africa, where it is currently raining. After a three month drought, it is raining. Can you guess why?" There is silence. "A contract. One man sold his soul so his village would have rain, regularly, until he dies in, because I'm such a nice guy, fifteen years." There is still silence. "Angels don't answer prayers, never have. But I do. The only difference is I take payment, and I don't take plastic. So, still want me to stop doing contracts? The parapalegic girl down the street who miraculously started walking three years ago might be a bit sad. She's in a pageant next week, and the runway isn't big enough for a wheelchair." There is still silence. I chuckle. He was good.

"You are an asshole." Says Samantha.

"Yes, but I'm an asshole who grants wishes. So, deal?"

"Take out the descendant shit, for now."

"I'll put in a clause for it to be revisited in ten years. There." There is a snap and once again silence, before the sound of Dan tearing meat apart with his teeth resumes. "So. Kisses?"

"You...are really giving us this, without asking for our souls, just...that when you say jump we jump, within the constraints of our job?"

"There is a definition for the job of hunter down in Hell. It's 1,563 pages long. You can read it if you want, but...I'd prefer to get back to work within the next week."

Samantha nods and looks at Dan and George.

"We doing this guys? Making a deal with the King of Hell?" Dan doesn't answer. He gets up and walks towards Crowley. He stands inches in front of him. Fuzzy frizzy beard red and blood stained, wrinkles on his face accented by sweat and dirt.

"I ain't never tasted a heart. But I'm hungry. Constantly. For something I ain't even had. I could be out here fighten, but I can't, not if the wolf might take over. So yeah, I'm in." Crowley looks up at him, the man who had helped free him, the man he had big plans for, and snaps his fingers. The blood is gone from his beard, just his beard.

"I left your lipstick."

The kiss is long for a kiss on the mouth that

doesn't use tongue, slightly bloody, and pointy. Werewolf teeth after all. Crowley snaps again and he is clean; no blood, not from rabbit, not from his bullet wounds, not from Jakobs. He looks at the others.

"Anyone else?"

"Me next." Samantha slides off the truck and wipes her mouth free of rib.

"Mooselette, wonderful."

Crowley looks at his hunters, his group, and allows himself the slightest smile.

"Alright. I'm all hot and bothered after the makeout session, so let's get this over with so I can-"

"Crowley." Samantha still was having none of his snark or attempts at causing discomfort.

"Fine." He snaps and Dan falls to the ground.

"What did you do!" Yells Samantha, grabbing something from her pocket, the Colt.

"One, that is out of ammo, I know it might have been hard to tell from your sniper's nest but, darling, check next time. Second. I'm rewriting his bloody DNA! It's gonna hurt!" We all watch as Dan writhes on the ground. I can't imagine what he is going through. Fear and hope being brought up so relentlessly with each surge of pain... He twitches, rolls, his body tensing with each movement as if every muscle is being pulled. His features change, fully into his wolf form, and shrink back as he screams...and then is silent.

"Dan? Dan, you ok?" Samantha kneels down as his form starts convulsing again. "Dan?"

He rolls over, body tensing with heavy breaths from crying.

"Samantha...It's gone Samantha. I'm...I'm not hungry." Samantha holds the man who must be at least 20 years her senior as he cries on her shoulder. "I'm not hungry. 'M not hungry. Not hungry."

George stands over them, eyes watchful, making sure nothing is sneaking up on them. Crowley coughs and Samantha and George look at him.

"So...Spread the word. Work with me and you get benefits. Work against me and I strap you to a spit and roast you with sulfur to make Hellhound treats." He waves his hand and the Colt appears in it. "I'll just keep this safe unless you need it… Tah."

And we are gone.