We arrive in his office and Rowena stumbles a bit, not quite used to this type of travel anymore.

"Steady mother, wouldn't want you to break an ankle before, well… I think I'll pass on the threats for now. So let's get down to business, what do you need?"

She Ignores him for a moment and looks around nodding in approval, enjoying the fact that she's not looking at the same scenery she has for the past however long. I'm sure she could go to other houses and move around there but I doubt she could teleport to anywhere that didn't look like Scotland.

"Give me a moment darlin', taking the surroundin's in to see if I can actually find anythin' on my own first."

"You won't mother."

"Not even of your old meat suit?"

"Mother, if I kept around anything that could be used to locate it do you think I would not have Done That Already! Keeping anything like that around invites people to use it against me."

"Fine. I need an obsidian knife, matches, red moss, a quartz crystal-"

"Mother, do you take me for an idiot? Those are the components for a banishing spell."

"So ye do remember what I taught ye."

"Painfully so. Now, what do you actually need for whatever spell you're going to use to acquire something that you can then use for your second spell that will show me how to acquire something else? This convoluted fetch quest is becoming tiresome, so let's hurry this along shall we?"

She looks at her son for a moment confused, he had used a term that he really normally wouldn't, one that in the two months of pretending to be me and then 5+ decades he had been with me he had learned. It was too apt to the situation to not use. Still it wasn't a normal thing to hear from Crowley's mouth, at least as she knew him, and both he and I knew it as soon as he finished the sentence. Rowena knows it too, but ignores it for now.

"Fergus I need charcoal, a bowl, flint and steel, a quartz crystal, sulfur, fennel, and knife. That is it for the spell, but I'll need a prism afterwards."

"And that will allow you to, what exactly?"

"Sift through all the different essences that the spell gathers to find the ones yer looking for."

He sighs but with a snap the ingredients appear on his desk. He stands to the side as he watches very carefully what Rowena does and says.

"Mother. I will remove the cuffs. If I hear a single syllable I recognize from-"

"Yes Fergus. I get the gist."

Soon enough the makeshift vessel is bleeding. I don't want to know how Crowley makes these vessels or what he makes them out of, but apparently they are human enough to have blood that works in magic because as soon as the blood hits the bowl, sparks fly. Mist encompasses the room, seeping from the bowl in clouds before it's sucked down into the quartz nearby in a whirl of colors. Both Rowena and Crowley bend over to look into the quartz crystal. Inside a bit of red smoke wisps around between a lot of black and even more bluish white.

"So the black is them then?" Crowley asks.

"Probably, and a bit of every other demon that's ever been in here. That's why I need the prism... and a clock. With those I should be able to figure out what black smoke was in there the most recently."

With a snap a clock appears on the desk. It is flat and basic but Rowena nods in approval and sets the quartz crystal on top of it. She bends over and while incanting holds the prism to the side.

"Tempus revealeo recantor spiritus." As soon as the incantation ends, red smoke begins to whisper out of the quartz crystal into the prism. She waves it away as it comes out and it vanishes, barely a memory. Black quickly follows out of the quartz and into the prism; first one bit, and then another, and then another. As soon as the third bit finishes coming out of the crystal Rowena takes the quartz off the clock and everything stands still. She holds up the prism and watches as black smoke swirls in it slowly.

"There ye go Fergus. The essence of three demons nicely packaged and ready to use."

With a snap the rest of the ingredients are cleared away, and a few ones I recognize from the show appear.

"What else do you need for a scryin' spell that finds three people. I need to know where each of them are."

"Depends on how close they are to another. We'll find out won't we, but I do need some sage and more sulfur since we are specifically looking for demons."

Another snap and ingredients appear on the desk. Rowan nods and begins the spell. Soon enough the bowl of water nearby begins to ripple and both Crowley and Rowan once again bend over the desk to observe.

In the bowl we can see Crowley's meat suit, Mark Sheppard's body, sitting in a dark featureless room. The red head and one other person none of us recognize sit with him and talk over a table. We can't hear what they were saying so-

"They're talking about a soul dearie, and new forms of contracts?" Apparently Rowena could read lips. Whether this would help or hurt Crowley, remains to be seen.

"Bollocks."

"Do ye know what they are talkin' about? Did ye come up with a new contract?"

Crowley stays silent for a moment pondering the situation.

"Not now Rowena. What else are they saying, since you can apparently read lips."

Rowena turns back to the bowl and squinting moves her hands in a widening gesture. The image zooms in a bit and with a tilt of her hand angles so that the face of the person across from Crowley's meat suit is more visible; she then turns her hand and the image rotates until we are facing the visage I associated with Crowley the most.

"They're talking about... I must admit I'm a wee bit confused… I must be readin' it wrong...a contract that doesn't fully take ownership of a soul once the deal is done."

At this Crowley smiles. They knew what the meat suit knew and the meat suit did not fully understand that contract. After all the person who knew the truth had been pushed down into nothingness for most of its life. I had a feeling Crowley was not entirely honest about having taken over the body at 21; after all what better way to get someone to trust you then with the face of a little kid. Kids were either adorable or creepy as fuck, there was no in between. I get a feeling from him though, that I am wrong. I don't know how, but now that I'm thinking a bit more on it the times might not match up. Maybe. I was never good with time, or dates, or numbers.

Rowena continues her distant voyeurism after a glance at Crowley confirms he's not going to say anything.

"Darlin, they are saying that this is grounds for, my goodness, removing ye from yer spot as king."

Crowley's eyes narrow. This was not just a mutiny or an attempted regicide, it was an insult that they thought they could wrest the throne from him. Rowena watches them, saying bits and pieces of their conversation, waiting for them to talk of their plans.

"Can you find where they are mother?"

"Aye. But-" suddenly Rowena freezes. She stares at the bowl, then to her son. Crowley raises a brow.

"Yes mother, do you have something interesting, or perhaps Useful to share?"

"Fergus, ye've been turning demon souls human?" At this both Crowley and I stiffen. There was no way that the meat suit would have known about this. It had died right after our first soul meeting. That the demons knew about this meant only one thing.

There was a mole. We had been tailed. There was a traitor. Only one demon knew about the secret cupboard. The cupboard that would lend credibility to the claims. Make the demons brave enough to risk their lives to get more dirt they could use against Crowley.

"Lionel." Crowley goes to snap his fingers when his mother grabs his hand. Crowley is about to blast her across the room when-

"Fergus, wait! Please!" Crowley sighs but lowers his hand and waits. Rowena let's go and takes more than a few cautionary steps back. "Fergus, is it true? Have ye been turnin' demon souls human?" Crowley sighs.

"You disapprove, mother?"

"I have no idea! I don't know why ye've done it! Why ye've lessened the ranks of Hell! Made it weaker!" She looks at Crowley, who just stands there, head tilted, looking at his mother. "So why Fergus?" Crowley raises a brow and takes a step forward.

"Do you really want to know mother? Do you, truly, want to know what I've been doing with those souls?"

"Yes Fergus! I've asked haven't I!?"

"Well then, mother, you will have to sign the mother of all NDA's."

"Fine!"

"No. You don't quite grasp the level of this. There will be no contract."

"Excuse me? Then how-"

"You will be locked in your prison, unable to leave that body, unable to talk to anyone but me. You won't be able to talk to Yourself out loud until I deem it safe that you can utter a word. Every item even possibly used in witchcraft will be removed from that house. You won't be able to cast a single spell for Years, perhaps decades, if you want to find out about this. If any one comes within 100 feet of you without me around you will be immediately sent to me. And, if you even think about attempting to break out of this, I will put you through what those souls go through. Every bit of it. So, mother, do you still want to know what I've been doing these past decades that has every single demon you knew more afraid of me than they Ever were of Abbadon!?" Rowena steps back, and leans against a shelf, afraid for a split second, before recovering her courage.

"Fergus, the demons never respected ye, and most of them didn't fear ye when I was Queen. I doubt-"

"Ah, right. You haven't heard of the shows that spawned my new army, or my new abilities."

"Shows...New...army? Fergus ye aren't making a lick o' sense." It's time for me to chuckle. She had been out of the loop for a very very long time. I had to wonder if she even knew what the internet was.

"Again, do you want to know...or not?"

"Of course I want to know Fergus, but I-"

Crowley doesn't wait for explanations or what ifs or whys. He snaps his finger and Rowena screams as she smokes. Her clothing burns in odd patches all over, and even on her face I see sigils light up briefly before vanishing.

"Have some sticks and stones for all the words you threw at me as a child. Now,-"

"What have ye done Fergus?!" She leans a bit against the wall and pants. Hair in her face and a confused glare in her eyes.

"Enacted the first part of our agreement, …Now you already can't leave that vessel Croney helped design. It isn't her most elegant work, we were on a time crunch, but it lets me do this." He makes a familiar gesture with his hand, the one made when you're telling someone to shut up. Rowena blinks and stands, and speaks.

And no sound comes out. Crowley smiles a slight smile and chuckles but once. Rowena claws at her mouth, angry. She makes gestures trying to enact some sort of spell. Crowley rolls his eyes and makes the same gesture, but runs his thumb across his palm afterward.

"-o yer own mother! I…" Rowena pauses, looks at her son and nods. "Thank ye, for allowin' me to be part o' the conversation, Fergus."

"It's the only conversation you'll be part of, for years. So, keep an eye on that bowl and let's get to work. We've made a deal, and I'll keep it. After we reclaim my meatsuit."

"Ye don't trust me to-"

"No. Now, before I was so rudely interrupted." Crowley snaps his fingers and the ingredients for a summoning appear on the table. "Prepare the usual summoning spell." Rowena nods, splitting her attention between the spell, the bowl, and what her son is doing.

Crowley opens a drawer in his desk and a bag with vials upon vials of blood rattle in it.

"Still fighting with that blood addiction I see."

"Actually, no. I've found something far better."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Later." I watch as he grabs a few vials and a bowl. He empties the vials into the receptacle and as the blood hits the air I can tell at least one of the vials is mine. Somehow, I just know.

"Such wonderful memories darling. Now, help me paint?" Rowena stares at her son as I chuckle at Crowley's plan.

"I'm preparin' the spell, I can't very well do that and help ye paint."

"I wasn't speaking to you mother, not everything is about you."

"Fergus, there ain't anyone else here." Crowley is smiling as he puts the bright red hair of his current meatsuit into a pony tail. I would be smiling too if I could. He was simply torturing his mother with questions and confusion by talking to me as he normally did.

"Well, I'd say you're wrong, but it would be easier to show you."

I feel pressure, then pain, as Crowley forces his way into my soul. He pushes me into every aspect of this body, and I gasp. He was once again hiding behind me like a shower curtain. It hurts a bit, and I stagger and cough.

I cough. Not Crowley. Me.

"Seventy percent tenancy in common of your soul, my favor. Control of the vessel...well let's let that be a moment to moment decision. On my part of course. Now. Paint, and do try to confuse mummy dearest for me."

I sigh, and grab a paintbrush from the drawer.

"Fergus?" I hear the question tentatively behind me.

"No. Not right now. Hello Rowena." My voice sounds like my own, somehow. I had a feeling that was Crowley's doing, but I appreciated it. Even if it was just to confuse his mother more.

"Who...where is mah son?! I can't be talkin' to ye! It's physically impossible according to him!" I laugh and bend down to the floor with the blood.

"No, very possible, you see, Crowley owns my soul."

"Wait, ye're the person he's possessin'? And he gave ye control!?" I shake what is now my head and start painting the star with Crowley showing me the design in the back of my head.

"No Rowena."

"Then why would ...Who are ye!?"

"I'm nobody Rowena, but c'mon. It's not hard to figure out."

"Ye have to be important or my son, the King of Hell, wouldn't let ye ride around like that in his meatsuit!"

"I'm only important because of how long I've been here." I pause as I dip my brush in the blood again and wait for approval from Crowley, verbal, well mental, before talking. As soon as I get it I look at her; with her hands pointing at me, ready to do some heinous spell or other. I smile with a mouth that isn't my own. "Rowena, that first contract they are talking about, that was mine."

Rowena stares as I finish the demon trap.

"So ye've been here for...how long then? To be so buddy buddy with my son."

"We aren't buddies Rowena. And I'm not telling you more lest it violate the contract. He won't tell me if it is still valid or not."

"Yer….contract is still active?"

"It is. Barely."

"That's the beauty of it Rowena. That is the only reason I'm special."

"You may tell her."

I close the outer circle and stand, looking over my work. It took up all the space from the desk to the door, a good 20 feet, and it was perfect.

"My contract doesn't have an end date Rowena." I feel myself yanked back and around as Crowley takes control of the body through my soul. He had freeheld ownership now, he didn't need to follow the rules we had when I was alive. He just changed that tendency in common percentage to whatever he wanted. The body straightens and Crowley coughs, throws the brush into the bowl and snaps it away,

Rowena stares.

"Hello mother. Getting a glimpse behind the curtain now are we? Satisfied yet?"

"Fergus, why would ye share ownership of somethin' ye could have complete control over?!"

"You'll see. Summon Lionel. Into the trap if you please." Rowena pauses, uncertain, and Crowley raises a single brow. "Now." Rowena swallows and nods, then starts the spell. Crowley turns to watch the circle. Soon, the white haired Lionel is standing in it. He looks frantically about, and then see's Rowena.

"Que- Uh. King mother, does Crowley know-"

"He does indeed." Crowley speaks in the voice I know him by and Lionel jumps, and backs away to the edge of the trap. "Hello Lionel. Have anything you'd care to tell your king. Get off your chest perhaps?" Lionel shakes his head.

"No sir. Wait. The other symbol in the upper court is done."

"And the one on my room? I see you're hesitating on that one. Why?" Crowley circles the demon, stepping into the circle at one point because of the lack of space. Rowena makes a gasping sound.

"Ah-Ah mother. There is another person here now. No talking unless it's with me alone. Now, Lionel. Please, tell your king why the glyph is taking so long."

"Sir, uh, I been resupplyin, ran outta gold and-"

"Try again."

"I-I don't know what to say sir but the truth."

"The truth...the truth is that if you don't explain yourself much more quickly I'll do to you, what I do to those souls in the cupboard, instead of just killing you."

"Sir. I don't-"

"Oh...that's right. No one knows what I do with them. So I guess it isn't much of a threat unless I Tell You what you've been snooping around trying to find out!" Crowley glares at the architect and steps out of the circle. The pain is minimal now that he is using my soul as a shield...and the 20 some other souls he has in various states of decay. Rowena however gasps.

Crowley ignores her and turns to the demon in the circle. He paces, looking at his vessel's feet. "So… I'm waiting for your answer Lionel. I am not a patient demon." Lionel swallows and looks to Rowena for help, but she is too bent on using the situation to gain every bit of knowledge she can. Lionel swallows and nods.

"I, they said you was turning demons human! I was scared!"

"You were right to be. But a smart demon would have kept his head down. A smart demon would have figured out that only two types of demons were vanishing. One type was quite willing to vanish, and until you betrayed me, you weren't the other type." Lionel gulps. Crowley circles him again, crossing in and out of the devil's trap as if it were nothing but paint on the floor. "So, who are they? Who gave you such confidence to betray Your King!"

"I. I can't. Sir. They'll kill me! Torture me!" At this Crowley turns and with a wave of his hand Lionel is pushed flat to the ground.

"And I can do worse! Who. Are. They?"

Lionel swallows. It was time to decide, who was he more afraid of? Who did he think could win? Three demons and however many they could rally, or the King of Hell who could walk over devils traps without a care and his loyalists. Rowena watches, gauging just how powerful her son had gotten. There were demons who feared Crowley before, would rather die than go back to him if they failed, but when they thought they could rally together against him, in large numbers, they weren't so afraid. I could see the thoughts running across her face, I could actually remember which seasons of the show she might be thinking about, if they were accurate. Artistic license and all, and well, Crowley.

Lionel stutters a moment and then turns over, bones creaking, and kneels.

"Sire. Their names be Bonard, Talis, and Nefari. They came to me wit tales that made my smoke itch. Hearing about that procedure… Them telling me I was next...telling me if I snooped around a bit, since I was the one who made the room, know every inch of Hell as it be now...telling me if I found proof they could rally an army to make sure it would never happen to me. Cause it would happen to me. Happen to all'a us. I..was right afeared." Crowley paces, circles, a shark that smelled the blood of betrayal. He never stops moving, forcing his target to either shuffle about on his knees to see him, or accept that he wouldn't be able to.

"How many demons know about the procedure Lionel?"

"A...a few. The older ones didn't believe it was possible...But the loyalists sir, half of them seemed to recognize it, and they didn't care! Didn't believe you'd do such a thing...and the ones that did said it was your right as king!" Crowley smirks. "I couldn't understand! That's when the group said they needed proof."

Rowena looks at her son. Demons weren't loyal. There was no such thing as a loyal demon. So the fact that there was a faction called loyalists confused her.

She was right of course. There was no such thing as a truly loyal demon. But all demons are... are twisted extremes of their human selves. If they had a vice, or an obsession, that thing became integral to their being as a demon. So if Crowley turned people obsessed with drama or role playing or acting into demons whose sole job was to put an act on until it was time to break it in the most gloriously bloody way? Well, he was their hero. It was all about placement. Job allocation. Finding people who wanted to do the jobs he gave them.

That was the dream after all. Human or demon. People want to enjoy living, and one of the most sought after ways to do that...was to find a job you love; and boy did Crowley deliver. He was in sales after all. He sold them not only on the idea of a deal while they were alive, but a promise that they'd get a position they'd enjoy when they were a demon.

I gave him the idea of contracts that continue after collection, and he ran with it. Not just for a mile, but across the state line.

Of course deals were pretty much null and void as soon as the soul was demonized, but that didn't matter. The demons found out about that fairly quickly. It didn't matter because Crowley had made a deal. And he didn't break deals. Contract or no.

In 300 some years he had broken two deals, and one was to prevent an apocalypse. So when the fresh demons found out that even though their contract was over they were being given what was owed; they took advantage. They took advantage the only way they could. The best way. By giving into their vices and obsessions and going to work.

People looking for contracts were vetted by the new crossroads team. If the signer had an obsession or a vice that fit a particular job… then that became part of the contract. If they didn't have one, into the line. No new demon.

That meant a big change. It lessened the amount of new demons being made considerably. This concerned the older demons, it concerned them more when they saw that the few that did get made were a bit...loyal to the king for some reason. They couldn't figure out why, but to someone who stepped back it was obvious. Crowley was running a business, and happy employees meant things ran smoothly. As long as he gave them jobs they enjoyed, souls to play with, and didn't kill them before they got to enjoy it all for a bit, they were loyal.

So artists became part of r&d for new torture devices. Strategy gamers became leaders of teams of demons. Crowley had a place for every obsession, every vice. Even the fans, his fans; they became executives seeing over everything else. They reported to him. They got to see him on a regular basis.

That's why he needed this body. It had become a symbol that he needed for a bit longer. Just a bit. ...and he needed it back.

So Crowley paces, and thinks. He was going to kill Lionel. A mercy if I was honest, but he needed a few more bits of info first.

"Where are they?"

"Uh...Nova Scotia I think. Small warehouse they said. Never been myself."

"And they've been telling demons about this...for how long? If I haven't heard about it from my troops...that means it's recent. ...Unless. What do you think Chew Toy?" You're asking me about time and dates Crowley. I have no fuckjing clue except that if they followed us it could be from a long fucking time ago or really recent. But you don't want an answer, you want to scare him. So, you're welcome. He continues pacing, and then speaks, deeming it to have been long enough for a little bit of a scare. "Interesting. So. Why now? How long have you known?"

Lionel swallows, the King was talking to himself again. Some demons had heard him talking to a 'Chew Toy' when there was no one there. Some were concerned, thinking the King was insane, but he seemed fine on every other front, so they let it alone. Now Lionel has a feeling that this, and the souls, and the contract, were connected. He had no idea how right he was.

"I...I just found out two months ago. They wanted me to get proof...but until today I...I had no way to get past the hounds. I...knew about the cupboard, and figured…. I was working on the sigils and lock when..." Lionel swallows, nervous.. Afraid that what he was admitting would get him killed. He continues though, after a few seconds and a calm stare from Crowely. "They...they thought that the loyalists might be scared enough by your recent show of power to join if they had proof of of-"

"Of the fact that I've been eating souls?" There is silence. It was out. The truth. The horrifying secret that Crowley wasn't just collecting souls for Hell, but for himself. Both Rowena and Lionel stare. There is a shift, a creak of a floor board, and Crowley snaps his finger. Whatever movement was going on behind him, stops. Crowley walks into the circle and Lionel backs away.

"No. No. I don't-" Crowley flicks his hand and a blade appears in it, and Lionel freezes and exhales. He was Just going to die. I laugh. I'd seen the day when once again, death was preferable to what Crowley would do to you.

Moments later and Crowley is once again wiping off a blade on someone else's clothes. Rowena is still frozen in place. He looks at her and then sits down behind his desk. With a wave his favorite drink is in his hands. The bowl is still displaying the three traitorous demons and Crowley watches them talking for a bit. Soon there is a muffled sound from Rowena and Crowley looks at her.

"Just a moment mother. I have something I wish to ask my Chew Toy." I tense. This could be bad. "Relax darling. I know what I would do in this situation, what would you do? About my demons knowing half a secret?" I relax. Just a question. Just time to fulfill my contract. Well, I'd show them. I'd show them the biggest lie of omission ever. Show them what you do to those who disobey. Show them the torture of their smoke being stretched and remade into a human soul that is so tired and weak that they degrade and tire in a jar. Just don't tell them what you do with them, until it won't matter if they know.

Crowley takes a sip and sets the drink down. He doesn't respond but I can tell he approves. Perhaps it is similar to his own idea. Perhaps he didn't have one yet. I don't know and it doesn't matter. He waves his hand and his mother gasps and stumbles.

"Fergus!"

"Yes mother? Do you have something to say? Do you disapprove of my methods? Of what I will Happily do to you if you cross me?" There is silence. She ponders.

"How?" Fergus pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth again and looks at her. "How do ye do it? Demons dinnae eat souls!"

"That, is what I don't want anyone to figure out yet."

"But ye'll tell your mother right?"

"When Hell freezes over."

"Fergus! We had a deal!"

"I said I'd tell you what I'd done, not how. Besides, you will figure it out eventually. You were always infuriatingly perceptive of anything I didn't want you to notice and blind to everything I did."

"Well, then tell me what ye did, an...overview if ye will." Crowley looks at her, her back to the wall, her hands fumbling with something. He sighs and waves a finger and she skids across the floor away from whatever she was failing to hide. As she skids she drops a pen, and a small half done sigil is on the wall.

"Really mother? A binding curse?"

"Is nay for ye! Is for me! Ye'll not be havin mah soul for Sunday tea!" Crowley scoffs.

"Mother, it's not Sunday. Now, if you're done trying to prevent your inevitable end when you betray me, you wanted to know why most everyone is so...obedient."

Rowena takes a breath and postures for a minute before looking at her son.

"If ye dinnae mind."

"Two reasons. One, I make sure my demons are happy, healthy, and-"

"Except when ye be eatin' them then?"

"Honestly mother, I don't do that often. In the time I've been collecting them, I've 'eaten' 8. Half the souls in that cupboard are human and have always been human. So, reason two...hopefully immortality won't get too boring." Rowena snorts.

"Fergus, all demon's are immortal."

"Yes, but it's a kind of tenuous immortality, isn't it?" Rowena furrows her brows and looks at her son, getting an inkling of what he is saying but not quite wanting to go the full way. Crowley sighs. "Mother. I've been stabbed with an angel blade ….I don't remember how many times over the past years. It's Actually gotten boring, a lot of things have, but that's why I have Chew Toy here." I sigh. Yay me. Go team eternity. Crowley chuckles. "She's amusing." Rowena stares. Crowley finishes his drink, stands, and looks at the bowl. "I believe I've satisfied your curiosity enough for now...Where are the demons that I'm preparing for 'Sunday tea' exactly? Quickly, and I'll let you watch the show."

….

We arrive in the dead body of a very well dressed fry cook. We spend a good three hours outside. First checking for cameras. Then checking for warding and alarms. Then putting up sigils of our own. On the warehouse, and around the whole shipping yard. It takes a long time, one very complicated trap took up an hour. When we are done, no demon or angel could enter the shipping yard, and a very particular funnel of symbols was painted on the warehouse.

We spend a good half hour making sure the artist that he could flee to if absolutely necessary is sitting in a shipping container that has been retrofitted for short term living. Ie, a bathroom, water, ventilation... soundproofing...a confessional on consecrated ground. Of course he still had me, I work in a pinch.

He is silent the entire time. Concentrating on what needs to be done, and what he's going to do once he is inside. I can hear his plans. Sometimes he let's me. It's never for a good reason. He either wants my opinion, or knows the plans will make me nauseous.

Finally however he is ready to go in.

The front door is locked, but easily blown away with a thought. The warehouse is empty except for the three demons at the table, and seven others that were listening from the shadows. Shit.

Crowley however doesn't seem worried.

"Hello ladies, I heard there was some discontent in the ranks. So, being King, I decided I should address it personally." There is a scraping of chairs as the three demons stand and the others shift in place. Crowley keeps walking forward. "Really? Of all the things I've done. Siding with hunters. Losing artefacts. Changing the way Hell works. Executing traitors. Trapping Lucifer. Twice! Of all the things, turning a few demons Human is what upsets you?" There is more nervous shuffling as he gets closer.

"It's because we can't figure out Why Crowley. Half of them were loyal to you." One demon at the table steps forward. He is the one who didn't have a body when he left Crowley's office.

"So that's it. You lacked information so instead of asking, or waiting,-"

"You would have killed us if we asked." Says the demon in Crowley's meat suit. Crowley frowns. He ponders possible avenues, and decides to go with the truth. He looks at the demons before him, puts on an act of looking conflicted… and then speaks.

"They have information that could lead to the downfall of Hell." There is murmuring and concerned whispers. I laugh. It was true. It could lead to the downfall of Hell. Crowley's Hell.

"Then lock them in a warded room! Don't ...do what you did!" The yell comes from the back and Crowley takes a deep breath at the stupidity.

"If there was a locked room, and your king said not to go in there because there was something in there that could destroy Hell... How many of you would ignore those orders?" There is silence. "Every single one of you! You will do it now, so..." There is still silence. Crowley takes a step forward and freezes. There is a ward; not a trap, not a binding spell, but a protective ward. Any demon on the outside...could not get in. Crowley smiles. He was lucky, no he was smart.

He had decided after that encounter with the Men of Letters, that piloting his meat suit through my soul should be standard when going into battle. It meant everything thrown at him was just a bit weaker than if I was beside him. He registered a lot less as a demon, wards didn't see me as a demon after all. The traitors watch, some confident the wards will keep them safe, some not so sure.

All of them would die. Or worse.

Crowley flicks his hands and an angel blade appears in one, a demon killing dagger in the other.

"This will hurt you a lot more than it will hurt me."

And he steps over the ward.

The next few minutes go by quickly. Fight scenes in shows, in movies, take forever. In real life, unless the fighters are very evenly matched, fights end quickly.

This was not a balanced fight. Crowley was outnumbered, overwhelmed, and outmaneuvered.

He was not outmatched.

In movies and shows bad guys always wait, never attack more than two at once. Real life is not so kind. Five demons rush Crowley, but he isn't there when they arrive. The demons skid to a stop and look around, only to see one of the ones hanging in the back light up like a Christmas tree. The body falls and Crowley stands behind it.

"Little slow on the uptake, aren't we boys?"

The demon behind him rushes up but the second blade is turned around and pushed backward. The demon falls and Crowley just wiggles the blade along with a raised brow.

"Next?"' A few demons back away but more run toward him. I am panicking, I would be a fine fighter, a dirty fighter; if so many things didn't cause me to flinch. Now, with Crowley controlling a body that isn't mine through my soul; I feel lightheaded, confused, odd. But I am definitely not flinching from any punch or blow.

Crowley prefers quick maneuvers and final strikes. He moves as little as possible, allowing himself to be hit by fists, kicks, or blasts of force if it puts him in a better position for a coup de grace in the next moment. I don't believe pain has meant anything to him for at least 200 years. At least not anything negative. As he said, 'agony and ecstasy.' I have a feeling as he takes a particularly hard punch that he is enjoying the fight on more than one level. This could have been over a full minute ago...

"C'mon boys. You know I'm immortal and this is all you came prepared with? If you were in my army I'd fire you. In fact...Consider this your exit interview!" As the blade plunges through the front of a chest, six demons are now dead, the remaining three are those from the table...but…

As Crowley is quickly going over math in his head and determining that there should indeed be one more, an angel blade is plunged into his gut. Lightning flies through us, and the meat suit falls. We both feel the tugs, the one to the Empty and the one toward the other piece of the artist's soul. One is most definitely stronger.

Red smoke pours out as the body hits the floor. Crowley twists across the room, back and forth frantically as if scared, and then flies out the window to the right of the front door.

"Follow him! If we can kill his next meatsuit it-" the voices fade as Crowley rushes through the air. We maneuver between other warehouses and to the shipping container yard. The red container stands out amidst the blue and through the air vent we go.

The artist inside is sitting in the confessional, scared. Crowley is elated, he wouldn't have to take the time to force her to use it. She is facing the other way when Crowley enters and doesn't even see the red smoke. There is the brief feeling of pressure and Crowley straightens and dusts himself off as he always does after entering a meatsuit. He takes inventory then pushes himself, and all his 'constituents', into the girl's soul. I can feel her brief pain as her soul is cracked open and wince in rememberamce. She hates me, but has pity for me. I was the cause of this, but my torment would last longer than any of the other souls here. She thought that was fair.

I couldn't disagree.

"Now now children, don't fight." Crowley bends over and picks up a suitcase that has a lock on it and after regarding the door to the shipping container for a moment, blasts it open with a wave. I knew what was in the suitcase. Crowley was serious when he told Rowena she would get a show. He looks in the mirror one last time, adjusts the nun's habit that was purely for insult, and heads out.

We hear the demons before we reach them.

"We need to call someone."

"Who?"

"Lionel."

"Lionel isn't answering." We round the corner. The demons stop at the sight of a nun with a suitcase.

"Lionel is dead boys." The four demons twitch and recoil in the devil's trap that was just outside the door on the underside of the ramp.

"What are you going to do with us Crowley?" Crowley ignores them and sets down the suitcase before carefully climbing around the trap and heading inside. He takes his time and walks over to the corpse of his precious meatsuit. Both of the blades were still in its hands. He grabs them and slowly returns, looking at the four demons. He circles them. They turn to watch.

"Did you really think you could win? REALLY? I've been King for ninety years! Do you know how many coups I've thwarted? Do you know how many attempts on my life I've foiled? How many rebellions I've nipped in the bud?" He paces on the outside of the building, looking at the four demons, noticing which ones had blades, which ones might be carrying a gun, which ones were unarmed. I however was focusing on some numbers. If he had been king for ninety years, and the show was accurate in saying he was king for seven before a short break of...a it sounded like a half a year based on how quickly Dean called him back from his story...he literally waited one year after the Winchester's died before 'leaking' Sam's journals.

That meant just under half the show took place when I was a kid. When the internet was just starting. Enough to do research, but not enough to share the fact that a person had been seen in one place and then half way around the world moments later. Of course that could be entirely wrong depending on the brother's actual ages. The events in the show could have been years apart, or happened as quickly as it was depicted… Either way, I couldn't deny that Crowley worked fast.

He continues to pace, sea air sending the scent of brine to us as he turns to face the wharf. He stops right outside the circle in front of the one demon who wasn't part of the main group.

"I've killed more demons in my 425 years than all of you combined. What made you think you-" the blade comes out and slides into the gut of the 'superfluous' demon "could hope to match me?" He flicks his wrist and the angel blade that demon was holding slides out of the circle as another demon dives for it. He sighs and shakes his head, then looks at the sky. "Enjoy the show mother."

He heads back to the suitcase and unlocks it. Inside are the tools he uses for torture. The kit had been added to over twenty years, quite a bit. He grabs the holy water and begins to sprinkle it on the ground.

"Ritum sacrum. Hanc terram consecro. Ritum sacrum. Hanc terram consecro. Ritum sacrum. Hanc terram consecro." The words make the body itch a bit as he talks but he ignores it, this wasn't any different from the many other times he had done this.

He pours the most of the holy water out and then looking at the demons toasts them before upending the flask over his mouth. "Amen." They stare.

"What are you?" Crowley ignores them and goes to the suitcase. He places the flask back and grabs two syringes and returns. He looks at them, holding the syringes so they can see, know what's about to happen.

"I'm the King Of Fucking Hell boys."

He is suddenly beside them and he plunges the two syringes into the necks of the demons who weren't in his preferred body. They cry in pain as he pushes the plungers in and then pulls the syringes out. The demon in Crowley's meatsuit tries to smoke out but can't. Crowley waves one of the needles up. On the overhang above them is another trap, one that prevents demons...from smoking out.

"See you in an hour gents, I'm going to get my cardio for the day. Killing any human who walks within 100 feet of here should do the trick. Be good and I'll bring you some entrails."

Eight hours. Sixteen syringes. Seventeen dead humans. One twitter post from Bigboss666 #killing it with the meal prep. Three scotches. One scared demon in a stolen meatsuit.

Two twitching humanized demons.

Crowley looks at the two shaking humanlings. They stare back. Silence fills the night with oppressing finality. Crowley breaks it.

"Oh. Right." He takes out his phone and opens the browser. "Sorry for the unprofessionalism, I always forget how to pronounce the last incantation. Let me just check the wiki." He didn't forget. He knew exactly what to say. He was prolonging this, tormenting them with the knowledge that it was almost over.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis...right. Lustra! Right, always forget that part." He puts the phone away and walks towards them, angel blade in hand.

"You...you can't do it. You aren't...purified." Pants one of the almost humans.

"No, but the meatsuit and their soul are. Good little work around."

The demon in Crowley's preferred body swallows and points out a flaw.

"Yeah, but once they are human, they can leave the circle, their souls won't belong to you or Hell anymore." Crowley pauses, and reaches into the ether.

"I beg to differ." Two contracts appear in his hand. "Now… some years ago there was a meeting in Hell. Every single demon." The demons stare. "Remember, there was a buffet? I remember, the pickled eyes were expensive, but worth it because everyone was in a good mood... Everyone agreed to the new definitions and alterations to all past, present, and future contracts." I remembered him telling me about that day. He described the pickled eyeballs in great detail, much to my dismay, because they were like hardboiled eggs crossed with grapes that tasted like salmon.

That kinda sounded interesting. I loved all those things… until Crowley ate a pickled eyeball while in my body.

Neither of us enjoyed the feeling, and intensity, of the nausea I felt. Never again.

He unrolls the two contracts and lets them hit the ground. "I'm particularly proud of the clause that adds to the definition of ownership 'through all forms of existence the soul endures in the past, present, and future once the contract has been fulfilled.'" The contracts vanish. "You're souls are mine ladies."

He walks up, and as he speaks slices both of his hands.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Hanc animam redintegra, lustra. Lustra."

There are screams, whimpers, tears. Both x demons look like they went through a three week bender as they kneel and blink like newborn cubs through the blood on their foreheads and eyes.

Crowley once again begins to pace. It was something I had noticed long ago, one of the few things he did without really thinking. He did it on the show, he did it as Mark Sheppard at conventions, he did it in Hell, he did it when he was thinking. Crowley paced, and right now, it looks menacing.

"So, since you three have essentially died to find this out, and I'm a bit curious to see what will happen, let's start the end here."

The three traitors look at each other and then Crowley. Meatsuit thief is the one who asks.

"What, are you going to...do...my liege?" Crowley rolls his eyes at the half assed attempt to placate him but stops his pacing a moment and looks at his captive audience. He was an actor, and boy was he playing the part.

"Let's just say, I'm hoping I don't get indigestion."

The sound of the snap is overwhelmed by the complete explosion of the two humans. The ground, Crowley's meatsuit, Crowley's new meatsuit; Jackson pollock going through a red phase.

With a wave the two souls flicker into view, floating toward Crowley, out of the circle. They are white, but their light is faint and they move slowly, wearily. Crowley pauses and once again looks up.

"I hope this act makes up for the slow parts, mother. I expect a standing ovation when I return."

The red smoke bursts out and flies through the air, circling them until they are no longer visible. I feel the wind rush around me, feel the faint light of the two new souls as smoke fills the air for a moment longer before returning to its temporary home.

The body jerks a moment as all the energy within rearranges itself. It takes a moment, three full seconds, for them to be pushed around and compartmentalized in various prisons of red. For the brief moment I can feel them all I sense is fear, and regret.

The remaining demon looks on in horror. Crowley looks at the sky a second before tasting something on his tongue.

"That residual sulfur...just goes to show you Hell never really let's go."

The demon in front of us is mute. This was something even he wouldn't have guessed. This was cruel, dirty, and wrong, even for a demon. This, this was evil.

This was a plot worthy... of the King of Hell. A lot of things clicked for the demon then. The contract. The murder of those two crossroads demons so many decades ago. The King's abilities.

The human mind was imperfect. It couldn't remember every detail of years and years. The person that used to inhabit Crowley's meat suit, I doubt he remembered everything Crowley said, or did. The demon had to piece together what he could from a dead human brain. It wasn't quite enough to understand what was going on…

But with what he just saw...it might be.

"Please...please don't-"

"I'll give you a once in a lifetime offer. Limited quantity, limited time. Give me back my body...and I might just kill you."

"Yes. Whatever you want. Just don't, don't..." Crowley doesn't hesitate and with a wave the overhang cracks and the symbol is broken.

"How about a little...prisoner exchange?" Crowley sets the blade, his cellphone, and a syringe filled with blood on the ground outside the trap. He steps inside and asks quizzically "smoke at three paces?" I chuckle a it, but the demon shakes their head, confused. Crowley sighs at the lack of wit and then erupts from the body, grabbing every soul and taking them along like the wind carrying wet leaves that are reluctant to move. The other demon vacates moments later and for a second in time black and red smoke fill the air, the artist's body looking around beneath them like an angry lost child. Then they pass and the bodies below twitch as they again have occupants.

Crowley stretches and nods at the other demon, cleans his suit with a thought, and walks out of the trap. A small twinge of pain is all that registers. If I could shake a head I would. The demon was stupid. He had lost his only leverage and Crowley had worded his promise very specifically. Of course he would have gotten his body back either way, but this way he didn't have to deal with a possible relapse due to huge amounts of purified blood in his preferred home.

He walks over to the syringe and after picking it up flicks it, before turning back to the demon. The demon cringes and tries to retreat, but Crowley points above and with a thought the 'no smoking symbol' repairs itself.

"You...you said."

"The operative word in that sentence was might." Crowley walks forward with the syringe, showing his anger for the first time that night. "You. Stole. My. BODY! Did you really think you'd get away with anything less than an excruciatingly slow end to your excuse for a life!?" The demon shakes his head and backs away to the edge of the trap. Crowley just keeps walking forward, until he's not there.

Behind the demon he jabs the needle into their neck and pulls it out roughly as soon as it is empty. The demon winces and holds their hand over the wound as they turn to face Crowley.

Crowley looks at the needle and twirls it lazily.

"Pain pain pain...pain." Crowley takes the needle and slowly drives it through the skin between his pointer and middle finger. The 2 pure human souls scream from the pain. The two x demons and I, just endure. Crowley revels in all of it for a brief moment, enjoying the stronger reactions he couldn't quite get from pain anymore. However he had more important things to tend to at the moment. Points to make, souls to tenderize with fear.

He watches as the needle goes straight through and sighs, pulling it out and throwing it away. The wound heals quickly, one of the bigger benefits of wearing the crown, at least that's what he told me. I had a feeling there was a contract with whoever the person inhabiting Mark Sheppard was before Crowley took over at what I still think was a rather offensively young age. Of course, the contract could have been signed later. I often wondered what happened to that soul. Crowley won't tell me.

He watches the wound heal. "Unless it's being inflicted to me on date night...it's boring. I haven't seen an interesting reaction to pain since the Winchester's died." Crowley walks around the trap to look at the demon. "Let's see if I can get one from your soul."

(So, for those of you who haven't noticed, I don't write short chapters. I write a chapter until the chapter feels complete. So... Yeah. have almost 10,000 words.)

(I could use some feed back, or opinions, or a hi. Hope everyone out there is doing well and being safe!)