Chapter One

The King's Pawns

October 31, 2009

Castiel squinted from his place hidden behind an underpass pillar as he cradles his cell phone to his ear. There was a strange sound from Dean on the other end after he explained what he was witnessing.

"Okay, huggy bear. Just don't lose him."

Castiel huffed slightly and rolled his eyes as he watched the demon deal be sealed. The demon Crowley obviously fed off the discomfort of the man he was dealing with, and truthfully looking at the human's soul Castiel couldn't really blame the demon for that.

"I won't lose him."

Castiel snapped the phone shut just as Crowley pulled away from the man. He could just make out the flippant remark as the human turned and stomped away, "See you in ten years."

The demon was moving a moment later and Castiel quickly stepped forward to follow. A moment later the demon vanished and Castiel went to follow the trail that had been left. He was able to only follow Crowley a short distance before he slammed into some of the strongest wards he'd ever encountered. He narrowed his eyes on the opulent building before pulling out his cell phone and redialing Dean's numbe. It only rang for a few seconds before Dean's gruff voice responded, "Yeah?"

"I can't get in. The wards are too strong."

"Alright, fall back then. Sam and I will honey pot our way into this."

"Honey pot? What does honey have to do with getting through wards?"

"It's-uh, nevermind, man. Come on home."

"Very well."

Castiel snapped the phone shut and found himself staring at the wards for several more seconds. There was something about them, something about the power humming through some of the angel specific sigils, that set him on edge. It was as if they'd been placed by an angelic being, but that didn't make sense. From what he understood Lucifer could care less about the demons, and Crowley wasn't the fallen archangel's biggest fan so unlikely to ask for such protection. Still, there was something about the soft glow that set Castiel on edge. It was interwoven with a clear demonic signature that even from the brief moments he'd seen the demon he could pinpoint belonged to Crowley. Crowley seemed smart enough to find anything to give him an advantage. Perhaps he'd come across discarded grace? It was a long shot but certainly a possibility. Given his waning powers he could also be misreading the wards.

Castiel sighed and tore his eyes away from the wall and left with a flap of his wings. Hopefully Sam and Dean would have a decent enough plan and his thoughts on the wards didn't matter in regards to humans.

Line Break

Crowley looked out the window and snorted in amusement as he felt the angel leave the perimeter of his wards. He raised a glass to his lips, sipping at the amber liquid, as he turned away from the window and walked over to his desk. Things were moving quickly now. It seemed once Lucifer's feet were on the ground there was no more holding back on the sides of Heaven or Hell. Not that the bastards were being clean or neat about their frantic work while breaking the seals, but that was beside the point now.

He wanted this fight finished before it began.

He sat down and pulled a warded box out of his right drawer and set it on the desk. He flipped it open pulling out the gun that sat in its confines and examined it carefully.

"All this panic for one gun. How quaint."

Crowley couldn't keep the morbid amusement out of his voice as he eyed the legendary gun. He made sure the Colt was loaded with only two bullets once more. He was being overly cautious at this point, but knowing the Winchester's reactions, he couldn't be too careful. Once he was done he set the gun back in the box until he'd need it later. He was about to put the box away once more when his phone rang. His eyes fell to the caller ID and he found himself raising an eyebrow at the number flashing back at him. He let it ring for a moment, not wanting the caller to think he was overly thrilled at being contacted, before answering it and putting the phone to his ear.

"Well, well, it's been a long time."

His voice didn't give away his surprise at the call, but as there was a crash on the other side of the line and a stream of cursing, he frowned slightly.

"Crowley, I heard you put out word to the Winchesters about owning a certain gun."

The feminine voice carried a perpetual teasing lilt, but it was being drowned out by the obvious sounds of fighting in the background.

"Sticking your nose where it doesn't belong again?"

"It's my job to have my nose where it doesn't belong, Mr. King of the Crossroads. Have the years finally taken their toll on your memory?"

Crowley growled softly, but it lacked the heat it would have had anyone else dared make such a comment. Instead there was the barest hint of amusement as he heard one of the combatants on the other end of the line die screaming some rather expliciet things about the woman who'd delivered the blow.

"Calling me old means very little coming from you, darling."

"Careful, Crowley. One may think you were looking."

He leaned back into his chair and despite his mounting amusement pulled the conversation back on track.

"Why exactly did you call if you know my plans?"

"The Colt won't work on Lucifer, Crowley."

Those seven words felt like getting thrown into a vat of holy water laden with salt for good measure. Crowley snapped up from his relaxed position, his hand slamming against his desk as he snapped,

"What the bloody hell do you mean it won't work?!"

The shouted question wasn't answered immediately and he heard the phone clatter to the floor. The woman gave an annoyed shout and he barely heard her voice snap,"Hold that thought!"

It was muffled but he heard a body being slammed into the ground. His agitation grew with each moment the phone wasn't picked back up. After almost a full two minutes the soft whoosh of the phone moving through the air as it was picked up filled the line.

"Now," she continued as if nothing had occurred, "I meant what I said. It won't work."

"Yes, I heard you. Now tell me why."

He hissed the final word and it spoke volumes that he didn't receive a snarky response from the other line.

"Let me put it in simple terms. The Colt is a bomb and Lucifer is the sun. How effective do you think that would prove?"

There was more patience in her voice then he was used to hearing, and Crowley fell back into the chair as he visualized the picture being painted. He muttered the first thing that came to mind, "It will only piss him off."

"Bingo, and likely get whoever is wielding the gun killed. I know you're far too smart to go face to face with Lucifer. That explains the Winchesters' involvement. Thing is, those hotheaded hunters will blame you if anyone dies on this mission and then-"

Crowley exhaled sharply and shut his eyes as he tried to arrange his thoughts. Sadly his mouth had a mind of his own at the moment.

"Fuck me."

"Ah, thank you for the offer but I'll have to pass. Covered in far too much blood for such an activity."

"Must you be a bitch?"

There was a small laugh before she spoke once more, "Only because you're a bastard. So what's your new plan?"

"I need time to think. This changes things."

"I figured. Look, if you need me, you know where to find me. As far as hiding out goes, I think the time is up considering the pile of bodies in my office."

Crowley frowned and found himself asking before he could get his thoughts in order, "Lucifer loyalists?"

"In this case, yes. You'd think they'd learn."

"Could never accuse a demon who thinks Lucifer is the wise choice of being smart."

"Too true, too true."

There were several moments of silence and the woman spoke one more time,"I meant it. Get here if you need help. I've got to clean up this mess. Good luck, Crowley."

The phone call ended and Crowley set his cell phone down as he stared at the box that held the Colt with a frustrated expression. He had at least four days before those lumbering piles of flannel showed up at his door. Between now and then he'd have to come up with a different approach to the situation. So much for pointing the two hunters and their pet angel at Lucifer and waiting for the notice of the archangel's death. Now he may have to actually utilize his ace. His eyes fell to the phone at that thought and he found himself contemplating if that would be the worst idea given the limited options. He downed his drink and quickly poured another as he tried to riddle out the best course of action.

Line Break

November 3, 2009

Dean finished killing the demon quickly and turned to Jo with a grin. The younger woman smiled back at him as Sam offered her one of his larger jackets to warm up.

"Thanks, Jo."

"No issue. Be careful in there, alright? I'll wait in the car."

"Will do. Remember, take off if it looks like things are going completely tits up or call for Cas."

Sam nodded in agreement with him, but Jo just rolled her eyes as she turned to head back to the Impala.

"Whatever, I'm giving you an hour before I storm the castle."

"Jo, don't you-"

Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder as Jo walked away stopping his brother from continuing to argue with the stubborn young woman.

"Don't Dean. You know she won't listen. Let's go meet this bastard and get our damn gun back."

"Yeah, let's get this over with."

The two of them slowly made their way into the large manor and Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at the ridiculously opulent surroundings. The more they found out about this demon the less he seemed, well demony, and the more he came off as nothing more than an opportunist con man. Still, it wouldn't do well to underestimate the demon. That was how you ended up dead in a ditch somewhere or riding shotgun in your own body.

"Hey, Dean, let's put a Devil's Trap under this rug."

Sam's voice was barely above a whisper and Dean gave a small nod to show he agreed as they moved the heavy rug as quietly as they could. The manor seemed oddly deserted. Sam was spray painting the trap and Dean muttered just loud enough for his brother to hear, "Does this place seem oddly empty to you?"

"No? I mean, demons aren't exactly pack creatures or anything. Maybe he just likes being alone."

"Maybe, but isn't he like a big fish? Shouldn't he have, I dunno, underlings?"

Sam frowned as he finished the trap and shoved the spray can back in his pocket. Dean helped him move the carpet back into place only to bump into a vase and send it clattering to the floor.

"Fuck."

Dean hissed the curse as Sam shot him a look and they both backed up and tried to blend into the shadows of the room. Several moments passed before a well dressed man walked through one of the doorways, a relaxed look on his face as he held his drink. Dean stiffened slightly at the demeanor even as Sam opened his mouth and called out, "It's Crowley, right?"

There was a flash of satisfaction in the demon's eyes and Dean wanted to get the hell out of the room. He found himself having to quickly reevaluate his thoughts on Crowley as he turned to them not looking at all surprised.

"So the Hardy Boys finally found me? Took you long enough."

The demon sauntered further into the room and for a moment Dean thought he may actually walk right into the trap. Crowley stopped though a moment before he stepped into it and frowned at the rug. It was slightly askew and it seemed that Crowley was far more perceptive than most demons. He leaned down, tossing back the carpet and giving them an annoyed look before his smooth British accent once more washed over the room, but with a more deadly edge than before,

"Do you have any idea how much this rug costs?"

A moment later Dean felt a strong grip around his arms as he was yanked back. He shot a look to his side and saw Sam in the same position as him. Crowley now stood a few feet in front of them as he pulled out The Colt and observed it with a half interested look.

"This is it right? This is what it's all about."

His voice still carried that dangerous edge that spoke volumes about how comfortable he was with the situation. Dean knew he and his brother tended to send monsters, demons, and angels scattering in the opposite direction. It was something he took pride in. For Crowley to be utterly relaxed was disquieting. The gun was leveled at them and Dean froze for a moment thinking they may have actually met a demon smart enough to kill them. Then with the aim of a freaking marksman Crowley put a bullet in the demons that were holding him and Sam before either could react. The bodies hit the ground and Dean shot his brother a shocked look as Crowley spoke once more, "We need to talk. Privately."

The demon began making his way into another room and all the two of them could do was follow after the overly confident entity. He finally stopped as he walked into an office and made his way behind the desk and Dean finally snapped, "What the hell is this about?"

"Do you have any idea how deep I could have buried this?"

The demon waved the Colt patronizingly at them, and Dean heard Sam let out the smallest hiss of annoyance before Crowley continued to speak, "There is no reason you, or anyone else," he seemed to pause at that thought and a strange look passed over his face before it blanked once more, "should know I have this except that I told you."

"You told us?"

Dean couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice. He had a feeling they'd been played but that seemed to be going a bit too far. The demon smirked slightly and set the gun down on the desk for a moment before responding.

"Of course. Rumors, innuendo, etcetera. Now," Crowley snapped his wrist and the office door slammed shut causing Sam to startle slightly at his side. Dean though refused to take his eyes off the demon, and Crowley seemed pleased at the obvious distrust, "Let's see if we can help each other, no?"

"How could you possibly help us?"

Sam snarled the question and Dean found himself tilting his head in agreement. Honestly, it wasn't like the demon was going to just hand The Colt over from the goodness of his heart.

"Well, by informing you upfront that this cute little antique won't do anything against Lucifer."

Dean felt his heart fall into his stomach at the seriousness that had bled into the demon's voice. No, that wasn't possible. The Colt was their one hope going up against Lucifer. It couldn't be a fucking dead end.

"You're lying."

Sam snapped out the statement, but there was a noticeable waver in his brother's voice. Crowley frowned and responded calmly, "If only I were, Moose. I've got it from a reliable source that shooting that tantrum throwing child with this gun would be like bombing the sun. Pointless and disgustingly expensive."

Dean exhaled sharply at what was going unsaid. The expense in this case would be your life when the bullet failed to do its job and likely the death of anyone who went with you on that suicide run.

"I still don't-"

"Sam, stop."

Dean hated having to call out his brother in front of a demon but he had to. Sam shot him a questioning look and Dean spoke softly, "He's telling the truth. What reason does he have to lie? If he wanted us dead he could have shot us just now. Hell, he could have given us the damn Colt and sent us on our merry way."

Sam seemed conflicted and Crowley made it worse when he clapped his hands with a condescending smile.

"Well, Well, it seems the rumours about you aren't all true, Squirrel. Quite perceptive of you."

"You can fuck right off."

Dean snapped the statement not appreciating the backhanded compliment or snarked nickname. The demon didn't even look a bit wary about his increased temper. Instead Crowley chose to push on, "You are right of course. I have no reason to lie. I want Lucifer dead as much as the two of you after all."

"And why would you want that? Shouldn't you be glad Daddy Dearest is back?"

Crowley's good mood seemed to evaporate in a moment and he narrowed his eyes at Sam who glared back just as hatefully. Dean stepped forward slightly putting himself between his brother and the demon. Crowley raised an eyebrow but chose to respond rather than retalite to Sam's obvious bait.

"Lucifer wants humanity dead. You're nothing to him, hell you're nothing to most of the angels as I'm sure you noticed. Now, if he succeeds where does that leave demons?"

When neither of them responded Crowley rolled his eyes and spread his arms, "Demons are next. He hates humanity, and what are we but the worst of humanity."

"He created you."

Dean felt the need to point that out but Crowley simply rolled his eyes as he let his arms fall back to his sides once more. The demon didn't respond right away but when he did his voice was deceitfully even. Dean had a feeling there was a rage bubbling right below the surface and he really had no desire to be on the receiving end of it.

"We're cannon fodder. Nothing more than foot soldiers he can point at the angels in an attempt to weaken Heaven's armies. We mean nothing to Lucifer, and I for one would rather him dead than myself."

Dean didn't have anything to say to that. He could see where the demon was coming from, and truthfully he fully believed Crowley's assessment about Lucifer. He never really understood why the demons were so gung ho for Lucifer, an archangel, to freely walk amongst them. Fanatical devotion seemed to be something both sides of this bullshit fight suffered from and Dean was sick of it. When neither he or Sam spoke up Crowley decided to move things along once more.

"Let's go back to simpler times, shall we? Kill or be killed is much more my speed then some family feud, don't you agree?"

"The Colt won't work, so unless you have a back up option you're just talking out your ass."

Sam's cold response had Dean watching the demon carefully. There was a moment, a blink and miss it moment, of hesitation before the demon spoke. It was as if he wasn't really sure he wanted to go this route but didn't have another viable option.

"I know someone who could possibly help. They have a vested interest in the outcome of this whole pissing match and would rather it not spill out and affect the general human populace."

"And why should we trust you? You may just be turning us over to Lucifer."

Dean didn't argue against his brother even though he didn't agree. He was mulling over Crowley's words and trying to place why the description of the person sounded familiar. As if he'd met another person who held similar ideals to what Crowley was describing.

"Well for one, I'm giving you a small gift."

Crowley picked up the Colt and to Dean's shock offered it to Sam. His brother stared at the gun, but finally took it. Crowley sat against his desk and looked at them with a relaxed smile. Without warning, Sam turned the gun on Crowley and pulled the trigger without a moment's hesitation.

Well, at least his brother had learned trusting a demon wasn't worth while.

The gun didn't discharge though, and there was a hollow click that signaled that the barrel was empty. Crowley still looked completely at ease and after several awkward seconds of silence spoke, "Ah, you'll need ammunition won't you? Otherwise it's just a fancy paper weight."

The demon walked back around the desk and Dean couldn't help but update his mental score board. Crowley 3, Winchesters 0. The demon was more than a few steps ahead of them and it was showing. Sam shot him a confused look and all Dean could do was shrug as Crowley pulled a small wrap of ammunition from his desk. The demon turned around and held the bullets with a frown on his face.

"Look, I'm willing to introduce you to my contact. The Colt is merely me showing you that I'm serious about dealing with Lucifer."

"Do you even know where Lucifer will be?"

Dean had to ask the question because if the demon did, they may just have to take the plunge and deal with the consequences later.

"Why do you think I'm here? He's in Hell. Hence why my delicate ass is top side with no intention of heading back downstairs until he's dealt with."

Sam huffed and Dean made a quick choice that would at least leave the score 3 to 1 rather than the zero they currently had.

"Then for now, we have no reason to team up with you. Your contact," Dean used air quotes and he noted with surprise that there was a genuine flash of annoyance in the demon's eyes that vanished rather quickly, "may very well kill us. We'll find our own way."

Crowley considered them for a moment and when it was clear they weren't going to change their mind he gave a careless shrug.

"Well, if you change your mind, feel free to reach out."

Crowley threw the bullets at him, and Dean grabbed them in surprise. By the time he looked up, the demon was gone. Dean unrolled the holder and was surprised to see a business card sitting with the bullets. He picked it up, staring down at, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Crowley, King of the Crossroads."

Sam read the card over his shoulder, shock clear in his voice. They exchanged a look and Dean had to begrudgingly change the score once more: final score 4 to 1, a crushing defeat for the good guys.

Damn it.