Black ichor stains Cas's coat as he lays on the ground.

"This was a new coat."

"Well, it's not Armani." Says Crowley as he backs up, unimpressed.

Cas stands, keeping an eye on the chomping head on the ground. Crowley snaps and it vanishes and a box, indeed with a big red ribbon, appears in its place, twitching. Then it and the body vanish. Cas stares.

"I'll take care of it. Don't ruffle your feathers...except the one you owe me."

Cas sighs and stands, hands covered in ichor.

"This fluid is dangerous, let-" Crowley snaps and that is also gone.

"Feather? And don't pull out your wings in here, I don't want to see that."

"They make you uncomfortable?" Says Cas with the slightest of smiles betraying his satisfaction.

"No. But I don't have hot sauce or blue cheese to go- of course they make me uncomfortable! Demon!"

"I have to take them out to acquire the feather you have requested." Crowley huffs, I am excited. I am gonna get to see wings! Shadows sure but-

"No Chew Toy. Not shadows. Do you know the cost, monetary and timewise, of CGI today? Why do you think the monsters were always human? It wasn't just because most were, it's because showing the ones that aren't, is expensive. So-"

Cas smirks and his eyes glow. The air shimmers and heats up around him, displacing atoms as dust swirls into existence. The dust glows, concentrates, and wings begin to grow as if they are being summoned or brought into view one particle at a time. Which maybe they are.

The bones are blackened, sinew is visible. They look painful, and the few feathers remaining are sad to see. Grey teal, not white, gold, or blue like I would have thought. Still, despite that they are majestic in their size, filling the room and speaking of a presence that can't be seen.

Crowley steps back. However limited Cas is on earth, his true form is still impressive; and the wings hint at it. Cas is still more powerful than Crowley right now, he couldn't kill the King of Hell permanently, but a fight between them would still send Crowley out of his body many many times.

"Ok Cas, you've impressed the Chew Toy and any mice in the room. Now... Feather." Cas's face betrays nothing as he moves a wing to Crowley, a single feather on the end within reach. Crowley looks out at the wing, and with venomous eyes at Cas, before reaching out a hand. He immediately recoils. Cas smiles and Crowley glares. He quickly reaches out again and goes to pluck the feather.

It burns. His fingers blister as they get close. When they touch the feather still attached to the wing the flesh ignites. I wince and want to scream, but Crowley just grits his teeth. He won't show any weakness in front of this angel. He doesn't show weakness, but definitely not in front of this particular angel. I however, am screaming.

He pulls and the feather comes out with ease, the pain lessens immediately but his hand doesn't heal. As he gets farther from the wing he shakes his hand and the flames go out, revealing flesh without skin and the tip of a bone on one finger.

The feather is long, the size of his forearm. It glistens with light as he spins it. Slowly, away from the influence of angelic grace his hand begins to heal. He looks at Cas out of the corner of his eye; thanking him with an expression hiding the type vitriol that can only be shared between allies and friends. Or in Crowley's case, frenemies.

"Pleasure Cas. I-" Hey. Hey take him back. Don't make him take a plane or whatever. Crowley pauses and looks at Cas; his stoney expression and fading wings.

"Why Chew Toy?" Cuz it'd make me happy, don't you want to feel that right now? Triumph? You barely feel it, and you should right now. Even if it's from me.

"On the contrary, I feel perfectly happy." He looks at Cas. "Ta."

We vanish.

Hours later, after what I assume was Crowley relaxing with some recreational murder, we appear in a small town somewhere in Italy. I don't know how I know it is Italy, I suppose Crowley let's me know. Trees are on either side of the long pebble covered pathway. A lone building has smoke rushing out of the chimney. It smells amazing, warm and garlicky. Cows graze nearby and somewhere a sheep bleats and a donkey answers. It's bright, beautiful, and I have no idea why we are here. Crowley doesn't respond but walks up the path to the house. We walk through a garden with tomatoes of many types, zucchini, and more. As we get closer a parking lot becomes visible, with a few cars baking in the sun.

A bell rings as we enter and it becomes quite clear what is going on.

We are in a pizzeria. The smell is amazing. Rich and filled with flavor. There is a sign inside, a mosaic on the front of the counter.

Antonio's Homemade Pizzeria. Crowley walks in and a few heads turn before going back to their meals. Talk ebbs and flows like a tide around us, the wonderful language filled with expression and vitality. Crowley walks up to the counter where there is a waiter at the register. To the left is a cooking area where dough is being kneaded and pizzas are being made within full view. The person at the counter smiles and Crowley speaks in fluent Italian. Which I somehow understand.

"I am here to see Antonio."

"He is busy."

"Tell him Crowley is here, I am sure he will make time."

"Sir, I canno-" Crowley snaps and every person, including the one we are talking to falls asleep. Crowley walks behind the counter and past the wood brick oven. The oven is tiled with ceramic and puts off a great deal of heat. We enter the door beside it and on the other side is a hall. It is long and white, with old paint over clay. To the left a screen door leads outside and another garden and some cows can be seen. Directly across from us is a door with a plaque that says Antonio. Crowley knocks.

"Si?"

"Enjoying those 9 years Tony?" There is silence. It hangs. Then…

"What can I do for you Crowley?" Crowley opens the door and the man on the other side gasps. Crowley looks around. There is warding everywhere. Barely visible, hidden in art and wall paper, carvings, and more. Crowley looks up and on the ceiling in a mosaic is a devil's trap. He looks back to Antonio hiding his amusement under calm hints of displeasure.

"I will discount this rudeness if you do me a favor."

"H-how? The witch said-" Antonio's face is covered in fear and dismay. His hair is black and short, as is his beard. He is middle aged and a tad overweight. Just a bit. His arms are strong though, and his square face has lines that tell me he had a hard life.

"King of Hell. Now. Favor?"

"No. You have my soul, I will give you nothing more for nine years I am waiting."

"How about if I offer you another three years?" Antonio is silent.

"Depends on the favor."

"Naturally. I want three pizzas. One for each year I'm willing to give you."

"You...want pizzas? Why not just order at the counter?"

"Because I want you to make them, and what I want isn't on the menu."

Oh boy. You're gonna do a fucking long pig pizza aren't you Crowley? Jesus dude. Will she even like that?

"If she doesn't, I will feed it to Growley." Antonio looks confused. "Just talking to a friend. Now. Do we have a deal?" Ask what type of pizzas first Antonio! C'mon!

"We do."

Goddammit.

A pepperoni pizza with meat cut fresh from the links. A three cheese with garlic, fresh oregano, fresh basil, and fresh veal from Antonio's newest calf. The third one has onion caramelized in fresh Canadian maple syrup... and fresh American bacon, from an American.

Antonio is not pleased with the last order. But he made a deal, and so he makes the pizzas while Crowley sits and eats a slice with sweet balsamic vinegar and baby spinach. With a fork and knife.

The first pizza is in the oven within 5 minutes. The second and third...Crowley hadn't brought the meat pre-cut, and the calf was still alive. He sits and chews as he watches Antonio head out to the back with a face that shows he has done worse. A lot worse. And had never expected to have to do it again. Who was he?

"Prison. Attacked a boy who tried to rape his sister. Boy happened to be the son of a visiting politician." What did he want from you? Crowley smiles. "That isn't what is important. What is important is that after he got out he spent 10 years slowly working toward destroying that family. Murder. Infiltration. Joining gangs or worse, legitimate businesses, to get what he wanted. And when he succeeded...he was going to be hunted for the rest of his life when all he wanted to do was retire to his family's house and make pizza. Like his father. So…" You took care of the people looking for him. Crowley nods and takes another bite. It is Very good pizza. Fresh. Every ingredient made here, or locally. There is a loud moo from out back and then silence. Crowley takes another bite.

….

Soon we are on our way back to Hell. Three pizzas, one leviathan in two parts, one angel feather. It had taken three days to get ahold of Cas, after that...one day. Just one day.

Success.

The gate to Purgatory is before us, Dan waiting.

"Crowley."

"Dan. How is the dragon?"

"She's been keeping herself amused with Bernard."

"He's survived?"

"Yes."

"Pity." Crowley snaps his finger and the body of the leviathan appears. He has the box with the ribbon, that is still shaking, and the feather. The pizzas are next to the body. "Be a good dog and help me carry these things to her." Dan growls a bit but picks up the pizzas and grabs the corpse by the hand. Crowley steps through and we are all pushed into Purgatory.

The dragon is waiting. Huge and dangerous. As Red as Crowley. The same red. She lifts her head from next to Bernard and looks at us with piercing eyes and amusement. Bernard breathes a sigh of relief at not being the center of attention any more.

"Little demon. You've brought me gifts I see."

"Yes. As requested." Crowley holds out the box, which twitches as if on command.

"Open it please." Crowley pauses. "And put his body nearby."

"If they reattach-"

"Oh, I hope they do." Crowley swallows, but nods and with a snap the box opens as Dan throws the body close to it.

"Hello Asphaerondusjon." The head in the box spits and twitches and screeches. The box knocks over and the head and body start to reconnect. The black ichor reaches out in tendrils to each part. The dragon watches in amusement.

"Such a small form you've taken. How unlike the many times we fought against one another. When you were big enough to spread your ooze out and scar my back with your teeth."

"I will devour you dragon! I will spit out your bones and-"

"You grew tiresome three eons ago. The only thing interesting about you, is your new body...and how it will expire." The head schlops back and the monster stands up ready to attack. "Goodbye Asphaerondusjon."

And we see dragon fire for the first time.

It's hot beyond belief. It isn't red. Or yellow. Or orange. No. It is the white blue of the hottest part of a flame. The small bit at the bottom that burns bright and hot, the part that the rest of the flame grows from. This fire is not small, and nothing grows from it. In its entirety is the idea of time. For all time is, is the observation of the changes in energy. This stuff coming from the dragon's maw is the essence of time, start to end. And right now, it is showing the end.

The leviathan flails and screams in agony. There is hissing as the ichor inside it heats and oozes out of pores. It gets thicker as it warms up, until it moves like tar and screams with a sound like a teapot just starting to boil. The body starts to flake away around the black ichor, becoming ash so fine it floats. The pool of black left writhes under the white hot heat. It hardens, turns to obsidian, cracks, then crumbles and becomes a black ugly ash on the ground before floating away on a light breeze.

All within ten seconds.

"Well, now we know what kills Leviathans in Purgatory." Fuck yeah we do. Crowley stands a few feet back, coat unpleasantly warm. The grounds around the space where the leviathan was, is dead and blackened. A crater that contains a memory. The dragon snorts and shakes her head free of the last bit of flame and smoke. Her whole body shivers and she moves a bit, adjusting herself before addressing her audience.

"Well, I see you have brought me the food I requested. Much of it." Crowley takes a deep breath. Not scared, but definitely impressed.

"Yes. No additives, I had a feeling you might taste those. So. Organic."

"I appreciate the thought, but I will wish to try them too. So. What have you obtained for me?"

Crowley waves Dan over. He sighs but brings the pizzas.

"First. The classic."

"I have seen humans eat this. They talk of it often and it appears in many parts of the world." A single claw spears the entire pizza and it disappears into her maw. She barely chews, she just moves it around in her mouth and then swallows. "It was interesting for the first three seconds. I like fresh papaya from someone else's stomach better. And the next?"

"Three cheeses. Veal. Fresh herbs." I am trying not to die from laughter. Crowley is sending jolts of pain my way but it makes the situation no less insane. This pizza disappears in much the same manner. She pauses after this. Thoughtful.

"Bring me one of those beer covered cows, alive if possible, next time we meet." I wonder for a moment if she has even had alcohol before...and how much it would take to get a dragon drunk...and what the fuck type of drunk she would be dear god. "I will have half of the last one. I can smell the human flesh from here. I haven't had human meat in over 2000 years… I wonder if it has changed." She carves the pizza, and box, in half with a claw and it vanishes as well. She makes a face and swallows it quickly.

"The human tastes like drugs and chemicals. If you bring me such fare to eat again, bring ones that will not taste so. You may have the rest, or dispose of it." Crowley nods, but looks at the pizza with a bit of distaste. He did not like that much cheese on human, unless the human was alive.

However...Dragoness notices the slight look and her cruel smile appears.

"Have a bit. I insist. You would not bring me something you yourself did not find to be in good taste, would you?"

"Of course I would. My standards are a bit obscene, even for a demon. Besides, I have no clue if we have similar tastes when it comes to what we eat. I don't even know What dragons eat." Dragoness grins.

"Whatever we want." Crowley has no response to that other than agreement, I feel similarly.

"Either way, I'm saving room for my own meal."

The red dragon laughs.

"No matter the similarities or innuendo one uses to describe what you are doing to souls, you do not consume them; at least not through your stolen stomach. So, I say again. Eat. Or will you put your tastebuds above your other desires?" Crowley swallows, and begins to push his way into my soul so he would taste it through me, at least get some enjoyment from my discomfort. "Ah, don't bring your toy into this little demon. Your test with the leviathan and the Angel was simple. This is your real test. Can you prostrate yourself to me? Do this without intent for revenge. Be happily subservient and allow me the pleasure of your discomfort? Willingly offer me what you have taken from your toy for decades? I had neither seen nor felt discomfort of that type for hundreds of years until I asked you to speak bluntly. I wish to see it again. Can you do this? Give me something that not only provides you no pleasure, but a loss?"

Crowley stands stock still. He was being asked to bow, willingly, to someone else, with no intent on reparations.

"Will the deal be off if I do not?"

"No. That is the point. If you could gain something tangible, certain, from this, then you would do it without a second thought. This is a test of loyalty, of equality, of friendship. Only friends give something for nothing. Are you my friend little demon? Or are you going to use me? I am fine with either, but one will be far more interesting when it ends in inevitable battle and blood. Shall we meet that day as equals, or must one always be better than the other? Do you even have the strength to admit, and allow yourself, an equal?"

Jesusfuckingchrist. And she is using pizza to find this out? That was a risk that Crowley would bring something he wouldn't like. Crowley grasps onto the question as a way to avoid the dragon's.

"Chew Toy has a point. How did you know I would bring something I had no interest in eating?"

"I was going to have you eat the angel feather, this seemed less painful in the long run. Have you ever had angel pinions stuck in your gums? Or throat? Not pleasant. Although I believe the grace might be more problematic for you little demon. If you prefer that to the pizza…"

The dragon trails off and watches Crowley's inner turmoil along with me. This is difficult for Crowley. It would be easy for me. A dragon as a friend? Yes please. I don't care if I never gain anything from that other than the ability to say I have a dragon as my friend. That is a fucking dream right there.

This dragon doesn't want anything from Crowley that he would be unwilling to give. She doesn't want his throne. His belongings. His power. She doesn't even want his pride, though it may seem like it. She wants truth. Is the King of Hell able to consider someone his equal? Not his lesser and not his better, because either of those can rarely be anything other than allies, tools, or enemies. She waits patiently, smoke curling out of her nose and mouth. The vampire Bernard and the werewolf Dan stand stock still, watching and waiting to see if the King of Hell could prostrate himself willingly.

The dragon is cunning. Manipulative. Unafraid. Brilliant in almost every regard. She is obviously more powerful than him.

Right now.

What she is asking is, when they are equal in power, in reality or in one of their minds, would he see them as equals… or something else? She knew he would try to kill her, she had said so. The first time as an off hand comment about him rivaling her, but Crowley caught it, and so did I. Then she outright said she knew. It seemed she all but welcomed it, but would that fight be one where the victor accepts their prize with respect for their opponent, or not? It didn't matter to her if the fight was one of trickery, or cunning, or force. It didn't matter if the fight itself would be respectful or not. But she was curious. Did she have his honest respect? Not for her power or what she could give him, but her.

She had asked him if he was strong enough to admit he had an equal, and it was a challenge to him. He did not like to back down from those if he considered them worthy. This one was a contradiction though. His head, and my head too, are going in circles.

"Your meal is getting cold little demon."

Crowley looks at the pizza, and then at the dragon. He bends over and picks up a slice, and examines it. Silence. He looks her in the eye, one bigger than him, and says:

"My name, is Crowley."

And he takes a bite.

I have never seen so many teeth in my life, nor a smile as large as the one the Dragoness gives then. It almost makes up for the cold pizza.

"Then we have a deal. You may drop the rest. My curiosity has been satisfied...Crowley. And because equals repay favors in kind, even metaphorical ones…" she stands. The ground shakes and some trees have their tops broken off. A rather large boulder is knocked away by a tail. She towers over the clearing, nothing humble or small about her, almost as if such ideas were in direct conflict with her existence...

And she bows to the King of Hell. Her neck lowers, her foreleg bends, and her head near touches the ground.

It is an awe inspiring sight. To see something so huge offer a gesture of respect to something so small.

She stands again and looks at the demon in front of her.

"Now that we have gone past the formalities of starting an agreement, let us move forward. This will be deeper than a contract. I will not sign anything, ever. My name will not be writ anywhere. It is not done among my kind. No, this is a deal of words. Magic is my blood and life. So, if I wish our words to be binding, they shall be."

Crowley happily drops the pizza into the box and kicks it away. That admittance had been so hard it had almost physically hurt. But he had gained a very very powerful, not ally, but friend. One that showed its respect and deal with him openly. One that would impress the enormity of his accomplishments on any being. However, a deal with no proof, even between friends, was unsettling.

"I would still like it in writing somewhere…"

"It will be writ on my soul, when you are able to examine it without burning up, you may read it in depth. However it will say nothing other than what we have said. This conversation etched upon my very being. I have no need for deceptions in writing. So, shall we consummate our partnership King of Hell?"

Crowley furrows his brows, confused. The dragon leans over Crowley. She towers over the clearing, and as she speaks, begins to shrink and morph. "Please feel free..." her voice changes, rumbling and growing sweet. She glows with heat and when the light fades she stands in front of Crowley; naked, covered in scales, teeth sharp and eyes dangerous, body strangely human. "-to use tongue."

…..

I stand next to her, my soul taking the form of my old body. Crowley is in front of all of us, holding a large golden orb that radiates fire. It spins in place and as it does the area around it breaks, the lines of energy, magic and reality that hold the universe together can be seen twisting in and around the orb. Feeding it, sustaining it.

This, is a dragon soul. The dragon is next to me, still small, naked, and covered in scales, smiling.

"Eat up King of Hell, unless you fear I will burn you away." Crowley's eyes widen in agreement and mild trepidation, it was a possibility. Still… The smoke pours, blasts out of his meat suit and encircles the orb. The dragon beside me watches curiously as Crowley tries to take her soul. The flames from it seem to scorch and burn away the smoke as it curls and recoils around it. He is trying to surround it but the heat seems to keep him at bay. He swirls keeping a berth, a distance, but moves and covers it like steam until it can no longer be seen except as you would the sun behind a cloud. The smoke stops, then pulls back into the body, leaving nothing behind. Crowley stands and straightens, stiff and still as if working through something.

There is a slow applause. Both Crowley and I look at the dragon.

"Good job King of Hell. Now, bring it back in one piece, and claim many others while you are out. I will be watching." Crowley adjusts his shoulders and jaw slightly, still apparently getting used to his new companion.

"Watching? I'm not sure I feel comfortable giving a show I haven't rehearsed or at least played with the props a bit for."

"Too bad. As long as there is magic, my soul is connected to it, and if I am connected to magic I am connected with my soul. So, put on a performance, King of Hell." Crowley winces. "But sit down a bit. Adjust first." I stand quietly, waiting, happy to be free, to be watching him without knowing what he is experiencing. If he is in pain, if that pain is bringing him pleasure. It's not, apparently, because he scowls.

"I don't…" he pauses, remembering who he is talking to. "Nothing a bit of food won't cure, I'm sure." The dragon smiles, her teeth far sharper than a vampire's, her eyes nowhere near human. Her presence, despite her current size, is immense, and her way of speaking only magnifies the feeling.

"Go. Eat. I will be here." She pauses for a moment and points to the right. "I suggest starting there, a pack of wolves is fighting a flock of strix, which I believe have not been seen on earth since the battle of Thermopylae where they attacked one of the camps at night. Hurry, and most of them might still be alive.

Crowley glares, but stands, still stiff, and vanishes.

The dragon turns to me and smiles.

"So, Chew Toy, tell me what You think dragons are."

….

"So the theory is that the pearl often held by Japanese dragons is their egg, and that is why they are-"

"Yeah but what about tha European dragons? What kinda eggs do they lay in tha stories?" Asks Bernard, Dan nodding in agreement at the question, wondering what I know.

"Yes, Chew Toy, what type of eggs do they say dragons like myself bear?"

"They don't. In the most ancient lore it isn't often touched on, because that wasn't what was of interest. The gold being hoarded, the innocent virgin, that's what was sought after. That and the metaphor for Satan. Until Pendragon I'm not sure dragons were seen as wise in Europe, just dangerous beasts. I can do more research...if Crowley let's me. I was never into the whole simple 'hero slays dragon' thing. It was either cliche or a metaphor."

"You mean, they didn't even think about how the dragons came to be? No thought about the next generation?" Asks Dan.

"I have no clue Dan! Not a monster remember! Not that old. Not working off of hunter's journals. Working off stories. And that is what we have, stories, not reports. So each story is what was important, not how the dragon got there, just the hero and the-"

"Chew Toy, Bernard, Dan...Dragoness." We all look up from the stumps we are sitting on, the dragon once again curled around us, large and protective of her stories. Crowley stands there, completely unscathed. The dragon rumbles as she sees him and the ground near us vibrates.

"Did you enjoy your hunt King of Hell? It has been near a day. Who won the fight between the wolves and the strix?"

"I did." He steps forward holding a feather between his fingers. "And the fight with the vampires, and the one with the two vetala, and the… what was that stupid name Dean gave them?" I sigh. That I could remember.

"….Jefferson starships?"

"Right. And finally, an old friend had a bone to pick. The Alpha Shapeshifter." He drops the feather and looks at the Dragoness. "I lost an arm and a leg today, literally." The Dragoness chuckles, and my eyes widen as I look away. Fuck. He looked completely fine. Things were moving a bit faster than I expected.

"I'm glad my soul's magic gives you such pleasure. You may get through your bucket list yet King of Hell."

Crowley pauses.

"That was something I noticed."

"That I may read you, but that I do not reciprocate? My soul is closed to you for now. One day you will be able to overwhelm me, and I look forward to it." Crowley looks at her. "Because that will be an interesting day."

"And fighting leviathans isn't?" The dragon rolls her eyes.

"They have one strategy, and when it comes to that strategy they are brilliant in all things it contains. But it is still one strategy."

"And that is?"

"Eat. And if they cannot, they ignore. My son was eaten long ago, his spirit now roams free of their interference, for he holds less interest for them because his flesh is no longer sweet and real."

"And I'm assuming the only reason you don't lose so you can be left alone is… pride?" I ask looking up. A gust of hot air is my answer.

"Pride is useless at best and dangerous at worst. Take pride in your accomplishments, but never in yourself, or you will become over confident. No, I am proud of what I have done and learned, and each fight I come out on top of is something to be proud of. But no, I will not let them eat me because…" She leans close to my face and as she speaks I can see the back of her throat light up with fire. "That would be giving them what they want, and I Love denying those pompous stomachs with teeth what they want…" She flaps her wings and pine needles fly as she looks at Crowley.

"So. If you die-"

"The contract is binding Crowley. You will never tear apart my soul; should you win, I will ride with you until eternity, and the contract will last. I will happily give my soul so you take no other dragon's. Especially if you agree to dispose of my body so the black ichor may not enjoy it. I believe your mother would have conniptions if you brought her a dragon eye. I also know for a fact dragonflesh is sweet. The tip of my younger brother's tail was. Besides, riding with you..." She looks down at me and smiles. I nod.

"Will be interesting." Her breath huffs hot in my face, showing her approval that I've caught on. Her neck snakes down and her eye regards the King of Hell with amusement.

"You do not frighten me King of Hell. You never will. This universe will end and another will start. Perhaps you will live to see the next, but for as long as there is magic... there may be dragons."

"So...You've been around for...multiple universes?" I ask. She looks at me and blinks, and Crowley is next to us. She nods to a seat, a stump. Crowley looks at it with a bit of distaste and decides to stand. The dragon chuckles.

"No, this is the first that lasted to such success. But I was tiny in my youth, wriggling to where I wasn't supposed to be. Listening to things I shouldn't. Getting caught and told off by a hand so big it engulfed not places but minds, and amusing it just enough to be told that if I liked this existence, I would love the next chapter."

"You got into heaven?" The dragon looks at Bernard.

"Heaven and earth were close in the beginning. A flying distance of an hour with a truth used to pick the lock. I miss those days, when everything was close and far, when abstractions of thought meant something as real as a river." She inhales and sighs, a bit of fire singing the grass nearby. She is lost in memory, eyes far off. The gaze seems to continue forever and there is little sound but the beating of her heart and the rumble of fire in her throat. Crowley coughs and she blinks, her eyes focusing and a smile once again coming to her face.

"So, may I have the name of the one who wrote the first loophole? Of the dragon I have made a deal with?" Crowley asks.

"No." I grin. I think I know why. She looks at me and smoke continues to curl from her nostrils. "Tell him Chew Toy."

"If she is magic, Crowley, then her name IS her. It's powerful. Like how people used to think knowing a demon's name gave you power over them." Crowely blinks and the dragon rumbles.

"It is close enough a description to work." She looks down at Crowley and as she speaks, she grows. "Dragoness is fine. So, until the day comes when you can defeat me and take my soul, and name, for your own, we have an accord King of Hell. So...Eat, grow strong...so you may give me an interesting day."

…..

The first thing I notice upon my return, is that there is only Crowley. Any soul that was here before, had been turned to white sparkles. Any white sparkles were pink. Any pink...were gone. Whatever he had obtained in Purgatory, was just blown to little bits by the dragon's soul. He had expected to have to wait years for each monster soul to fall apart, at least until he was powerful enough to rip them up as he wanted. They were whole after all; not broken by torture like a demon, not frail from isolation, not in contract with him, not weak from being turned human, they were whole, if warped. Souls couldn't be destroyed after all, just turned into other things. The weakness he was counting on in most monsters was that they were once human, and their souls had indeed been twisted in some way.

He had been right, they were weak in some way, so he could change them, but...the dragon. She just...

Crowley walks down the halls of Hell, quiet. He has a lot to contemplate. A Hell of a lot. The universe had just changed for him. He had something new. Not a dragon, but an ally more powerful than him who Wanted his success. It was completely...alien.

And he is thinking about this while on a metaphorical 'empty stomach'. He is sweating, hurting, for a fix. After all, he is still an addict. He would want emotions from me, energy from at least ten other souls, and of course a new contract. He heads to his room and the devil's trap on the ceiling tries to hold him but cracks as we walk under it. Crowley snaps and it repairs itself. Then with a wave the painting is moved, the cupboard opens and his 'fish tank' is revealed. It is as beautiful as the day he got it, some … however many years faces still mingled with flowers and vines that reached for the top. Sigils still held it locked and free from prying scrys. He takes a breath and with a wave the box opens to reveal a sea. Souls, swimming circles in a pool that didn't have a bottom. His collection is finally back up to what it once was, and then some. He looks at them, and sighs. He puts the lid back on and looks at the jars on the shelves. Marinating souls, breaking apart from solitude, boredom and living with their own thoughts for decades. There's 40. He shakes his head and closes the cupboard.

I am concerned. Something is wrong. Something is on his mind. He ignores me and makes a beeline for his office. Two steps and he is there, sitting at his desk, pen in hand. He snaps and papers appear on the desk, three pages. He turns to the last one and looks at it.

His bucket list.

He holds his pen a second in the air and then scratches a / next to the word Alpha near the top. He goes past Seraphim, nephilim, archangel and more, and stops at the bottom. The big one. Leviathan. He sighs, eyes wide and shakes his head.

And below leviathan writes Dragoness.

And we both swear we can hear a rumble of fiery laughter in the distance.