A/N: To my reviewer Loreley: I'm not doing a S8 one, but that would have certainly been interesting! I loved crazy!Cas though. Of course, I've loved ALL the variations of Cas...

Huge thanks to Aini Nufire for agreeing to log on and post this for me while I'm on vacation! Everyone give her a wave... you would have been waiting an extra week for the next installment, otherwise! ^_^ Having said that, I won't be replying to reviews until I get home, so if it takes a while to hear from me, that's why :) I haven't forgotten you!

Chapter 3 is an AU (or just a missing scene?) from season 9, while Cas is still in command of his angel army.

Crowley released a slow exhale as he ducked through the arched doorway of the old, stone church. By all rights, he mused, he really shouldn't be able to even pass through the doors, to stand on holy ground. Not as a demon. He liked to believe that he could withstand the old magic trying to throw him back out again only by his own power. If he was honest with himself, though, it was probably because there was still human blood in his veins, diluting his demonic nature enough to allow him in. Even still, Crowley wouldn't be able to stay for long.

Just long enough to figure out his next move, though. Dipping a ginger finger into the pool of blood at his abdomen where one of Abaddon's lackeys had gotten in a lucky shot with something, Crowley winced and sank down onto one of the long, low pews. Bollocks.

Hiding from her was becoming harder, but with no hope of winning a straight up fight against the Knight of Hell, Crowley didn't see many other options. But a church was one of the last places anyone would expect him to go, so maybe he could hide here long enough to come up with his next hiding spot. Crowley was hardly opposed to a prudent retreat.

He needed to determine where she was, Crowley decided. Shrugging out of his suit coat, grunting with pain when it pulled at his wound, the demon draped the garment over the back of the pew and slid his cell phone from an inner pocket. If there was anyone who knew what omens to look for, it was an actual demon. He'd just have to do a quick internet search-

"Bollocks," Crowley complained when his phone informed him that he didn't get a signal in here. "So I can get Wi-Fi in Hell, but not a church. Lovely. I really must make a note for the suggestion box."

The demon sighed, but there was nothing else for it. Heaving himself up again, Crowley limped back towards the door of the sanctuary, holding his phone aloft in search of some kind of signal. So focused was he on the task, Crowley didn't immediately notice the group of people approaching the door until they'd spotted him as well.

Crowley froze.

Three pairs of eyes were staring at him, as taken aback as he was. But they weren't black eyes.

The demon couldn't actually see the celestial forms inhabiting the human bodies, but he could sense the righteous, divine power radiating from their beings.

"Well, well," one of the angels said, her eyes flaring with lightning blue. "What do we have here?"

"Demon, judging by that hideous face," another said as the three spread almost automatically into an attack position. Two already had blades in hand, and Crowley's was in his suit coat… back inside.

Definitely time for a prudent retreat.

But no sooner had he even thought about disappearing into the Void (and hoping his weakened state was even able to), a heavy hand fell on Crowley's shoulder. The demon tensed, realizing too late that there weren't three angels, but four. A face leaned in close from behind him, a silver blade snaking over his shoulder to brush his throat.

"Definitely demon, you can smell its stink," a low voice growled.

"I'm wounded," Crowley shot back, before remembering that he actually was. In combination with the angels' proximity and power, teleportation was out of the question. Time for emergency measures. This was his favorite vessel, but it wasn't worth getting killed over. Opening his mouth, the demon bailed out in a surge of pungent red smoke.

Well… he managed to bail out about half-way, anyways. If that. To his horror and dismay, the angels rushed in, raising their hands to halt his smoky form, slowly shoving it back into his body.

"Ruth, the bag," the angel behind him snapped. "Get this filth down!"

"Mmph!" With a powerful hand over his mouth, keeping his demonic form inside the vessel, Crowley was not liking his odds. He struggled, a muffled shout filling the air as one of the angels delivered a harsh blow to the bleeding wound in his abdomen. Outnumbered, he couldn't stay on his feet and soon the gaggle of angels had him down on the ground on his back.

The female, Ruth, had stepped back to unsling a bag from her shoulder. From his vantage, Crowley couldn't see what she was digging for, but he recognized the sound of tape being torn. Glaring at her fiercely, Crowley tried again to squirm away, again without success. The angel knelt over him, a silver strip of duct tape in hand. It looked like she had scribbled something onto it in marker. Crowley would bet dollars to doughnuts it was an Encochian spell to keep him in his meatsuit.

"I'm going to-" he managed to spit out as the hand released him long enough for Ruth to slap the duct tape down across his mouth.

"You're going to what?" one of the others snickered. "Bind its hands."

Another sound of tape being ripped off a roll. The angels yanked his wrists together in spite of his embarrassingly useless struggles, allowing Ruth to wrap the sticky strip around them, securing him tightly. More sigils were scratched on in black ink, leaving Crowley as helpless as though he were caught in a Devil's trap.

Stuck now, Crowley could only scowl in fury up at his captors as they stood and gazed down at him with triumphant eyes. Given his druthers, Crowley would have preferred death by demon than angel. Not because it would hurt any less, but because it wasn't nearly as demeaning as letting an angel win points.

"Wait a minute," the angel who'd grabbed him from behind snapped, squinting and leaning down slightly. "I recognize this one. It's Crowley, isn't it?"

Oh, that didn't sound good, if the angel's tone of voice was any indication. Crowley tried to shake his head, but one of the others let out a harsh bark of laughter.

"You're right. It is. I remember, from back when Castiel was fighting Raphael."

This was not the headache that Crowley needed at the moment. It was looking less and less like he was going to find a way out of this—especially when one of the angels raised a blade and pointed it at the demon.

"That's right," he sneered. "After what happened, Castiel must hate this one more than any other. Let's bring him a present. Load the demon up and head back, and we'll let Castiel dispose of this one himself. Metatron isn't here, anyway, and it might boost our brothers and sisters' morale to see the demon struck down."

Shooting the angels a glare as they reached down to haul him up, Crowley nonetheless felt the smallest sliver of relief that they hadn't simply killed him. Perhaps he could escape whilst in transit, or maybe Cas would slip up somehow.

Two of the angels pulled him up between them, feet barely even touching the ground as he was humiliatingly toted along like a rag doll. The demon found no opportunity to break free, and those blades of theirs could prove quite nasty if he tried and failed. An old church van sat on the grass not far away, and Crowley found himself shoved inside and forced down on the floor boards between two rows. A bag was pulled over his head, and everything went dark.

SPN SPN SPN

Crowley had never thought he would be sorry that the angels had all lost their wings. After a day and a half stuck in the same cramped position at their feet in the van, though, the demon was sorely wishing they could have just flown him back to Cas and spared him the torture of sheer boredom listening to the four gush about their brave and wonderful leader.

Not that he necessarily disagreed with their assessment of Castiel; it was just that he happened to know these were probably the same angels who'd been ready to execute Cas themselves following the heavenly drama.

Now that his position as King of Hell had been usurped and half of his own constituents had turned on him, Crowley had a new appreciation for how despicable such wavering loyalties were. These four who were singing Cas's praise—for thirty-six hours straight—would turn on him again as soon as the winds changed. Sickening.

Of course, that was Cas's problem, not Crowley's. He was mostly focusing on his plan of escape, and slowly healing from his wound with only a minimal amount of power.

"Here we are," Ruth finally said, just when Crowley thought he could take no more of their prattle. "Castiel will be pleased."

The creak of the door opening preceded the first change in his position in a day and a half. With the hood over his head blocking his vision completely, they had succeeded in leaving him too disoriented to discern where this top secret base was. Crowley tried to jerk away when the angels grabbed his arms to haul him out of the van, but it was for his own pride more than an actual hope of escape. As soon as the cold metal of an angel blade pressed into his throat, the demon held still.

"Move," one of them snarled, leaving him no choice anyway as he was once again dragged along.

Crowley felt the cool inside air when they entered whatever building they were in, hearing the background chatter of an impressive degree. Castiel had come a long way, judging by the sound; he must have had a small army gathered by now. The noise soon fell silent, though, as the angels seemed to have caught sight of him.

"Castiel!" one of the ones holding him called. "We've brought you a gift!"

The hood was ripped away, leaving Crowley to squint against the blazing indoor lighting. He could just make out the form of the trench-coated angel a few feet away.

"What-" Castiel's gruff voice started, before cutting off with an air of surprise. "Crowley?"

"Caught him hiding in a church. We thought you might like the pleasure of executing this demon yourself," Ruth announced with obvious pride. "Given your history…"

Crowley studied Castiel as his eyes adjusted to the light, watching intently for a sign of the angel's intentions for him. Though the demon hated to admit it, any window of opportunity he'd had at escape was probably past; he hadn't expected the tree-topper to have quite so many angels at his beck and call. He wouldn't get three steps towards the door before they cut him down.

Castiel, for his part, looked somewhere between confused and disappointed, probably having been expecting the scribe they were all so intent on catching. Even as Crowley dared to hope the angel would deem him unworthy of attention at the moment and leave him in an escapable cell somewhere, though, the angel's blade slid down into his hand.

Bollocks.

Forcing himself to hold still as Castiel approached, Crowley nevertheless felt a tingle of uncertainty as the angel's expression cleared, becoming unreadable. Cas's blade rose to hover in front of Crowley's face. The demon nearly went cross-eyed, trying to keep it in his wary gaze.

The moment stretched on, Castiel considering him with an intense look that left Crowley wanting to squirm. Ever stubborn, he merely glared back at the angel, refusing to be cowed.

"No," Cas finally said out loud, turning to Ruth and tucking his blade away. "I have a better idea. I'll take it from here, thank you. You four have done well. The rest of you, continue with your duties."

The group that had brought him in beamed under the praise, while the rest of the angelic horde slowly pried their attention away from the demon and back to whatever they were doing. Crowley glared at Castiel as the angel grabbed his arm and jerked him forward. The grip was too tight for him to pull away, and it wasn't like he could run anyhow, so Crowley decided to go along with things for the moment.

In his experience, the only "better idea" than killing an enemy was long, slow torture—sort of like what he'd planned for Castiel following the incident with Purgatory. Crowley wasn't afraid of being tortured. He was a demon after all. Like all demons, torture was how he'd gotten this way to begin with. But he couldn't say he was relishing the idea, and he'd hoped that unlike him, Castiel was above such things.

The hallway they were walking through had several doors opening on either side. Castiel pushed one open and hauled Crowley inside, propelling him back into a chair in the center of the room. To his surprise, the angel didn't bind him to it, but instead reached up and yanked the duct tape off in one quick move.

"Ow!" Crowley complained. He glared up at the angel standing over him. "Shouldn't you really be more concerned with finding that scribe of yours? Torturing me will take too much time, trust me."

Cas didn't reply, merely eyed him with a cold expression. He wasn't holding the angel blade, but Crowley wasn't stupid enough to think the angel needed it to be deadly.

"I mean, that is the plan, right?" the demon went on. "Relieve some of that stress? I can't say I blame you, what with-"

"Stop talking," Castiel growled. "I'm not interested in torturing you."

"You're… not?" Huh. Crowley couldn't imagine not being interested in torturing an enemy.

"I imagine Lucifer himself couldn't break you for good. Anyway, most of the angels are… short-sighted," Cas went on, taking a step back but maintaining his domineering stance. "They know killing you is the right move, right now. You're evil, a demon. You can't be trusted."

"Don't sugarcoat it, darling. I'm your worst nightmare." Crowley smirked, not about to let his last few moments be spent groveling at the feet of some angel.

Cas merely snorted and crossed his arms. "Hardly. Which is exactly why I'm considering letting you go."

Wait… what? Crowley stared at the angel, wondering if Cas had lost his marbles again. He'd seemed sane, up until that moment. Why…?

"Don't get the wrong idea," Castiel warned. "We're not friends."

"No, we're not," agreed the demon. Which was why he wasn't sure what to make of this.

"Like I said, the angels know you're evil. What they don't understand is that Abaddon is far worse, long-term," Cas went on. "Between the two of you, I'd rather have you sitting on the throne. You, I know I can beat if I have to."

Crowley bristled. "I beg your pardon-" He'd just started to get to his feet before Castiel's blade was at his neck, forcing him back down again.

"You disagree?" Cas pointed out, gesturing to the bound demon, stuck in his body, in the middle of Angel Central.

So the feather duster had a point, though it irked Crowley to even think it. Still… gift horse, mouth, he just wanted out of there. Shrugging, he moved to get up once again, but again Cas's blade had him rethinking the maneuver.

"I didn't say you could leave," the angel snapped. "I only said I'm considering it."

"Cas," Crowley purred in return. "I love it when you get all dominant. Makes me go quivery. How can I help persuade you?"

The angel scrutinized him for another moment before finally lowering the blade. "I have two conditions."

Naturally, a deal. Crowley was well-versed in such things. With a confident smirk, the demon nodded. "Name your terms."

"First…" Castiel gestured to the wound in Crowley's abdomen, closed up by now but still visible. "Is this the best you can do, Crowley? Hiding from Abaddon in a church?"

"I'll have you know," the demon snapped. "That bitch is tougher than she looks!"

"I'm not interested in your excuses, Crowley. Are you the King of Hell, or not? Is this how the king is supposed to act? I thought you wanted the throne. Perhaps I was mistaken."

Crowley bristled again, fuming silently. He didn't really have a good defense, though. Wordlessly, he glared at the angel until Castiel snorted and added,

"Yes, let me see, how did you put it?" He leaned in, growling, "You're no good to me except that you can fight her. So get… yourself… up."

"Clever boy, aren't you," Crowley snapped back. He did want Abaddon dead, he did want his seat of power. He wanted things back the way they were. Maybe the feather duster was right… maybe it was time to stop running and start fighting. "I don't suppose you have any bright ideas how exactly I'm supposed to do that?"

Castiel shrugged. "Sounds like your problem. You're supposed to be so devious and clever. I'm sure you'll think of something. So, agree to get out there and put a stop to this mess, or I really have no reason to keep you alive anyway."

Very well. He was the savviest and most cunning of the demons. Surely he could take care of one Knight of Hell. Raising his eyebrows, Crowley loftily replied, "Done. And I keep my end, unlike some I know. What's the second condition?"

His expression shifted into a frown as Castiel leaned down, a hand on either arm of the chair so that the two were nearly nose to nose. One side of the angel's mouth pulled up in a rare smirk.

"I want to hear the magic words."

Oh, was that all? Crowley rolled his eyes. "Please," he said readily, holding up his bound hands to be cut loose.

"No, that's not good enough."

Crowley's shrewd glare narrowed on the angel, not sure where this was going. "That is the magic-"

"You would beg for anything if you thought it would get you what you were after," Cas pointed out. Crowley almost thought the angel was enjoying this. "It doesn't mean a thing to you. No, I want to hear you admit that I won."

The demon balked, boggling eyes staring at Cas, trying to determine if he was serious. "You're joking."

Castiel didn't move, didn't even twitch. Crowley's horrified mind whirled to process this. "You're not joking?!"

"I believe you said something about re-evaluating whether pride was stronger than self-preservation?"

Ohhhh, he was going to kill this angel. Too well, Crowley remembered saying those very words when Castiel had been his captive instead of the other way around. Should have known it would come back to bite him in the end.

"Well played," Crowley bit out, trying not to show how furious he was, knowing that he was failing. He chewed his tongue for a moment, already shuddering at how the words were going to taste, because of course self-preservation would win out in the end. "Fine. You win."

Castiel smiled. "Good." In one swift motion, he'd leaned back up, slicing down with his blade. The tape was ripped in two, breaking the physical bonds and the magic one.

"Just remember you started this," Crowley grumbled under his breath. Technically he only had himself to blame, but he was in no mood to be generous now.

Prepared to flee before Castiel changed his mind, Crowley nevertheless paused when the angel spoke up one last time.

"Crowley… make sure she dies."

The two regarded each other, a dark understanding passing between them. Then, Crowley gave Castiel a sharp nod, and was gone.