Careful What You Wish For

Chapter Ten

Don't Count the Miles...

Bobby had to run upstairs. His favorite hat was still in his bedroom. The boys were already long gone, having promised to meet Bobby there. There was Granddaddy Winchester's old hidey-hole: the place that soulless-Sam had been working out of with the clan before all had gone to Hell in a handbasket. They needed more books, more research to figure out the solution to Eve. Having exhausted Bobby's vast library, Sam had suggested trying their grandfather's hideaway. Bobby was bringing boxes, and his truck to tote home any volumes he didn't already possess.

But his hat... He needed it. There were only so many things he was willing to do without one. And today called for the beaten-up blue mesh-back, that had come as a third anniversary gift from his wife. Thinking of her always brought back the few days she'd risen from the grave, a few years back. How she'd scolded him for living in a cave; how she was always pulling open curtains and letting light back into his house. He found himself doing just that more and more often.

After he plucked his cap from the hat rack, and jammed it down on his head, he reached out and yanked the curtains back, letting the late autumn sunlight stream through. Just as he was about to turn away, his gaze caught something out of place. Running his fingers along the windowsill, he came up with a fine yellow powder. His heart began to sink as he automatically sniffed the substance to confirm his worst fear. Sulfur.

Sign of a demon's passage.

Dammit. "Kayla..." he muttered, as he yanked his phone out of his pocket and bailed for the truck. Dean's number came up on speed dial, as he locked the house door behind him.

"Dean. We got a problem. I just found sulfur on the windowsill."

"Yeah, Sammy, I wanna find her and be the knight in shining armor just as much as you do, but we don't have enough to go on." Dean pushed over a pile of boards, sending a cascade of dust and debris falling down. He coughed and waved his hand through the air, waiting for it to clear.

"So, we know demons have been after her a while," Sam mused, picking his way through the boards to the door behind the pile. "They were watching her mother, and now, they've gone and nabbed her. We were supposed to protect her, Dean."

Dean sighed, before stepping back and helping his brother kick in the locked door to the study. "I know, Sammy." It was eating at him as much as it was eating at his brother. To them, Kayla was still an innocent, she didn't know anything, much less enough to save herself from the hands of demons. "Believe me, I know."

"Dean's right, Sam." Bobby gave both brothers a squeeze on the shoulder before he stepped into the study beyond. "All we can do now is wait to see if they give themselves away. Besides, that's one smart girl you picked up; if anyone can find her way outta a bad situation, I'm sure she can." Bobby knew he sounded more positive than he felt. But they needed Sam on his A-Game, not moping about something they couldn't fix just yet. "We tackle this, find ourselves answers to our Eve problem, and then we'll figure out what we can about Kayla. Deal?"

Sam sighed, rubbing the back of his neck because he couldn't find the right words to express his frustration. "Fine. Deal." Looking around the room that Samuel Winchester had used for a study, he was dismayed to find it bare-walled, and silent. "Look, I know it's gotta be around here somewhere... Help me move this."

"Well, she's a peach." Dean tried to laugh, but what Castiel's lieutenant had said rattled him. Did he only call on Cass now when he needed help? Was he hurting his angel-friend's attempts to get Heaven back in control of itself? Was his stupid, needy complex going to sabotage the hope for ending the Apocalypse for good? He missed Sam explaining what needed to happen. He missed Castiel's agreement to help out, just so long as he could quickly wrap up a few things elsewhere first. He didn't miss Castiel's hesitation to leave.

"Where's..." He trailed off, unwilling to label her verbally for the moment. He raised a hand, indicating an empty space where had expected to find the fresh-faced girl.

Bobby glanced at Sam, and Sam glanced at Dean. "We, uh... lost her." Dean supplied.

At the dark cloud that passed over the angel's features, Sam jumped in. "Lost isn't the right word. She was... kidnapped. But... Bobby's going to try and find her while we're... y'know.. hunting a phoenix." Cass didn't answer immediately, but looked at each one of them in turn.

"If she is dead, this is on you." He vanished instantly, leaving the three of them alone with their thoughts.

Dean swore loudly.

She felt like it had been days, but she knew she'd only been hostage a few hours. Someone came in at one point to loosen the ties on her hands for about fifteen minutes. It was Raspy-Breather, and he sat on the edge of the table nearby, watching like a hawk as she flexed her fingers to work blood back into them. Kayla used the opportunity to sit herself up as well. A little of her disorientation faded, but she still felt like her thoughts were muddy and slow. When her time was up, and Raspy-Breather knelt back down to tighten her bonds, it occurred to her far too late that she should have flexed her wrists, to afford herself some attempt at escape.

Raspy-Breather left the room with a wink and a wave, as though he were enjoying keeping her captive. How long would this last? How would she ever be found? She shuddered to think she may end up like the Dugard girl, lost for a decade. Panic rose in her chest to blind any manner of coherent thought, and she started to twist and writhe in her bonds once more. She lost track of how long she kept at it, but her wrists were raw and sticky by the time she was finished. Devastated, drained, she began to weep softly.

At that moment, the door swung open once more. They weren't even bothering to keep it locked. It was Crowley again, carrying a chair this time. Behind him, the raspy-breather carried a tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch. Crowley set the chair down, and his servant placed the tray nearby, before scuttling out backwards. He lowered himself into the chair, and poured a glass of scotch before he ever looked in Kayla's direction.

"Oh, Poppet," he began, mock sympathy dripping from his voice. Leaning forward, he tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her head. Kayla couldn't stop the tears running down her face if she tried, but he whipped out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed lightly at her face. "No need to cry. No need at all. What say you and me, we make a deal, eh?"

"A deal?" She repeated the word numbly, not certain what he meant.

Crowley's face crinkled into a smile; as before the expression never touched his eyes, leaving him cold and calculating while he pretended to be nice. "Exactly. See, you are going to be coming between me, and some very important property of mine, in the near future. I need you as... Well, can I call you my insurance policy?"

Kayla stared blankly at him, blinking owlishly in confusion. Crowley let her face go, sitting back, while he sipped his scotch. "Damnation, those things really work, don't they?" Grumbling to himself, he got to his feet and moved slowly around the room, inspecting the sigils painted on the walls. When he finally found the one he was looking for, he pressed his hand flat against it, and the paint bubbled until it peeled away in great strips.

Kayla, who had been watching him the entire time, suddenly felt a great pressure lift from her mind. The bottleneck that had kept her thoughts from moving quickly was suddenly undone, and she winced against the sudden glut of information that came crashing through. Crowley gave her a few minutes to process, returning to his seat slowly. This time, he poured the second glass a few fingers of scotch, in preparation for the deal about to go down.

Kayla glanced at the blackened wall while her thoughts forced themselves into order. Those sigils were why she couldn't leave, came the rationalization. Angel-proofing, as Mr. Singer had referred to it. As her gaze shifted to Crowley, the pieces began to fall into place.

"You're supposed to be dead, aren't you?" She asked finally.

"And a Kewpie doll for the brilliant young lady!" Crowley crowed, lifting his glass in a toast. "I am. And that's a secret you're going to keep for me."

"What says I keep it?" Kayla countered. She knew she was arguing from a weak position, tied up, sitting on the floor. But since her ankles were tied she couldn't get to her feet to put herself on more even ground.

"Mmm, just that I hold your life in the palm of my hand right now." Again, that lifeless smile flitted across his face. "You want to live, you keep my secret. You want your precious new friends to live, you help me out."

"Help you how?" Kayla wondered if he was bluffing. Maybe he'd be going after Sam and Dean anyway. Isn't that what they said the demons did? She bit the inside of her lip lightly as Crowley leaned forward once more.

"Sometime soon, there is going to be a door opened. A door to a very special place. Your dirty-winged angel will try to find a way to avoid that. Your job is to make him open that door. No matter what. You do that, the giraffe and his Neanderthal brother are safe from me and mine."

"And if I can't?" Kayla's voice betrayed her fear, shaking as she spoke even though she wanted to pretend she was strong. She wondered if he could melt flesh like he had melted the paint.

Crowley tapped her on the nose with one finger, causing her to flinch away from him. He laughed at her reaction, enjoyed that his display had curried the exact amount of fear from her. He leaned down close enough that she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "I own you."

Kayla tried to lean away from him, but her bound hands made it difficult to keep her balance. She had to think fast. Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find something inspiring to help her get out of the dire situation.

"Clocks ticking, Poppet." Crowley purred, getting a little closer. "Tick tock... tick tock... I won't leave the offer on the table forever."

Kayla grasped at mental straws. "Include me, and my family too!" She blurted out suddenly. "If I.. if I get Cass to open this door, if I do this... me and my family are safe too, just like the brothers! Forever!"

Crowley tipped his head to one side, considering. Then he shrugged. "If that's what it takes." Tossing back the rest of his scotch, he waved one hand nonchalantly and suddenly, Kayla's bonds were freed. Shaking her wrists out of the ropes, she got to her feet quickly. "Toast. And then, we'll seal the deal." Crowley offered her the other glass of scotch, after refilling his own.

Kayla touched the raw skin left behind by her struggles before she accepted the scotch. Crowley clinked his glass against hers, and winked at her.

"The future, my dear, is looking bright." He toasted, conspiratorially. With that, he tossed back his own drink; Kayla following suit a few moments later. She coughed at the strength of the scotch, and held her breath for a second while it traced a line of fire down her throat. Giving herself a shake, she held out her right hand, waiting for the handshake that would seal the deal.

Crowley laughed, and grabbed her arm up by the elbow. "Oh, no, dear child. Haven't you ever heard the term sealed with a kiss?" Kayla started to pull away, but his hand was like an iron cuff. He pulled her ever closer, wearing an evil little smile that, for the first time, glimmered as real delight in his eyes. "That's it." He soothed, as she slowly stopped resisting. Folding her up inside his arms, Crowley leaned down and breathed her scent in. No matter what, he figured he was making a good deal. Either he got souls from Purgatory, or he owned the soul of a nephilim.

Kayla screwed her eyes shut, and tried to pretend that something nice was about to happen. But she could only smell the alcohol, mixed with sulfur and the acrid burn of brimstone. Tears slid silently down her face as she lifted her lips to meet his, and in one long, drawn out eternity of heartbeats, she sealed her deal with the devil.

"Pray for me in twenty-four hours."

Bobby nodded, but Cass had already gone. With a thought the angel was halfway across the United States, descending upon the base of the one being he knew had something to do with all of this. He allowed the other angelic communications to filter through his mind, keeping partial track on the latest in a long line of skirmishes. If he was desperately needed, he would have to attend, but at this moment, Rachel and the others were holding their own. It was well enough that they were occupied, as his destination was not the most angel-friendly in the waking world.

Crowley jumped a mile when Cass banged his hand down on the desk between them.

"Don't you angels ever knock?" The demon huffed softly, and set down his glass of scotch before the angel could notice his hands shaking. "I mean, a little common courtesy between business partners..."

"Courtesy does not mean kidnapping on my allies." Castiel growled. "Where is she?"

"Who?" Crowley feigned innocence, quite cheerfully. But his cheer faded as Castiel leaned down close to him, with the intense look of someone about to commit murder written all over his face. Crowley weighed his options, and wondered just how close to the edge the angel was toeing the line these days.

Castiel didn't even need to draw a breath. The old scent of books, and secrets clung to Crowley's skin like a miasma. "I can smell her all over you. Where. Is. She?"

Crowley edged his chair away from the desk, trying to put some distance between the angry angel and his own personal space. Swallowing his first automatic denial of any involvement in anything, he reconsidered. He already had the girl's deal sealed, so he didn't really need to keep her captive the entire time. What was a deal without a sporting chance of success, after all? Getting to his feet, he put his hand out, palm down, about a foot shorter than himself.

"About yay-tall? Dark hair?" Crowley stalled for time, wondering just how he'd get out of this. If Castiel knew about the insurance policy he'd just extracted, then everything would change. Castiel's head tilted to one side, and that was the last warning Crowley needed. Throwing out a hand, he pointed to a door just on the end of the room, and then he tried to smile encouragement to the angel. "Just through there, my fine feathered fie- friend."

Castiel threw the door open without touching it, but stopped cold at the threshold. Crowley allowed himself a small smile of triumph, the angel-proofing sigils still kept the unwanted out, and the prisoners inside. Crowley's triumph didn't last long, as Castiel was suddenly upon him. The angel curled his fist into Crowley's shirt, hauling the demon around to crab-walk him toward the door.

"Let her out, or I find another demon to wrap in the mantel of your supposed power."

"You don't have the balls," Crowley countered, forcing Castiel's hand loose from his shirt. Smoothing his tie down, and fixing his lapels, Crowley poised just inside the door for a few moments, facing out, facing the angry angel from the safety of the sigil-scribed room. The challenge resulted in a silent staredown between them, as Crowley tried to determine if Castiel would replace him or not. Finally, seeing the uncompromising anger in his business associate, Crowley chose to cut his losses, instead of pushing the envelope. Laying his hand against the wall, he concentrated for a few moments.

The walls glowed momentarily red, as the paint bubbled and boiled right off the walls, disrupting the sigils and allowing Castiel entrance to the small room. Cass was instantly beside the inert form in the center of the room, running his hands over her arms lightly to check her for injuries. There were inconsistencies, but nothing majorly wrong with her. Cass looked up once to see Crowley watching them both from the doorway. Glaring at the self-appointed King of Hell, Cass gathered Kayla up into his arms, and promptly vanished with her.

He couldn't bring her instantly back to Bobby's house. Instead, he sought out somewhere quiet, and peaceful, to assess the damage that had been done. He ended up laying her gently down upon a sandy beach, somewhere in the Caribbean. It was remote; it was deserted. It would suit his purposes quite nicely. His first matter of business was to tend her wounds.

She had a nasty lump on the side of her head, probably a concussion as well. He fixed that first, hoping she would wake up shortly. He wasn't disappointed: as he untangled his fingers from her thick hair, her eyes fluttered open. With a little cry, she sat bolt upright, and tried to back away from him. Cass grabbed her hands before she could get too far, holding her firmly in place. He let his Grace speak for him, releasing it slowly into her skin, so the raw, red rope burns around her wrists would heal without scar or discomfort.

As her skin knitted back together, her eyes came into focus, staring at him with such intensity he thought he may burst into flames. He waited for her next move, unwilling to break the tenuous silence that stretched between them. He half-expected tears, or maybe a rambling rant of some sort. But the catatonic silence was new, and unusual. She turned a little green at the edges, and suddenly lurched to her feet.

Castiel let her scramble about a dozen steps away from him before she fell to her knees and began to retch. They were dry heaves, coming from the very core of her being, but her stomach was empty after her captivity. She continued for a few moments in that fashion, until she spat a small gobbet of black fluid out. It hit the sand with a splatter, and proceeded to evaporate in a trail of black smoke. That caught his attention, and it had the stink of Crowley all about it.

Cass moved through the soft sand to loop an arm around her shoulders, and gently lead her away from that spot. He guided her to a small shady place beside a palm coconut, helped her lean against its smooth trunk, before he lowered himself to the ground beside her, facing her. Laying a hand on her knee, he patted her lightly, awkwardly.

"Do you feel better, now?" he tried to sound as gentle as possible. Garnering fear in the nephil would do him no good in the long run. When she nodded, mutely, still a little green at the edges, he felt a slight sigh filter through the guarded expression. "Kayla, I need to know what he said to you. What he did. Can you tell me?"

"He made me promise him..." Kayla whispered it, and Cass edged a little closer. "You have to open the door, Cass. You have to, or... he'll kill them."

"Kill who?"

"All of them.. my family... Sam... Dean..." Kayla sniffled slightly, fighting back the urge to break down. She needed to be stronger than this whimpering crybaby. She sucked down a deep breath of air, and tried to focus on the ocean to help her calm down. But instead of the ocean, her eyes found a tall, stately woman, with dirty-blond hair watching them. Kayla's hand grasped for Cass', but he had already risen and turned to face the newcomer.

He greeted her with a slight nod of his head. "Rachel."