Author's Note: WARNING: There is graphic violence and language in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised. Brownie points to anyone who can figure out what song inspired the dialogue in this chapter.

Back at the bunker, Dean and Sam had just finished a hunt and were home relaxing. Sam sat with a book in his hands, doing some research on the monster they had face, trying to figure out any other weaknesses it might have had than the one he had found. Nearby, Dean drank a bottle of beer as he flipped through a new copy of Busty Asian Babes. About an hour later, Castiel came inside.

"Dean." He said. Dean and Sam looked up in unison.

"Cas? What's going on?" Dean asked, putting the magazine on the nearby table.

"The angels have been talking."

"What about?"

"Something's going on in hell. It's been too quiet lately. No demons, no omens, no uprisings. Nothing."

"And they think that's a bad thing? Sounds like Crowley finally got things settled down there. Why should we worry?"

Cas gave him an odd look. Dean sighed.

"Fine. So what do we do?"

"Let's check in with Crowley." He said. Dean shrugged and pulled his cell phone from his pocket and pressed his phone number. Putting the call on speaker, he listened to the ringing until he was eventually sent to voicemail. That raised a red flag for Dean. He never got voicemail when it came to Crowley. Sam did, Cas did, but Dean never did.

"Hey Crowley. Just wanted to check in. Call me when you get this."

He hung up and then stared blankly at the phone for a few seconds.

"Maybe we should go down there. Just to be safe." Dean felt the words being pulled out of him. He had a niggling feeling that something wasn't right. Then, he looked over to his brother. "Sammy?"

Sam gave a noncommittal shrug. "Alright. But let's at least get something to eat first."

Dean nodded. "Deal."

About an hour later, Castiel took them down into hell. But instead of finding demons going about their business, the corridors were empty. It was eerily quiet. They went down the hall, expecting at least one person to be there and tell them what was going on, but there was no one there.

Then, in the empty halls echoed a piercing scream.

Sam and Dean didn't hesitate to start running forward, but finding the source of the shriek was difficult and the halls were like a maze. But the closer they got the more they could hear. They heard the sound of flesh connecting with flesh, and a man yelling angrily while a woman sobbed out apologies. The voices grew clearer as they carried on.

"Sit down bitch, you move again I'll beat the shit out of you!"

"Okay!"

They heard the sound of him striking her, and her quiet cry of pain.

"Quit crying. Why do you always make me shout at you?!"

A quiet sob emphasized the statement.

They finally reached the door and opened it. A large and physically intimidating man was looming over a huddled figure. But by her hair, they recognized the victim. It was Rowena. Her face was bloodied and bruised, her lower lip was swollen, her eye was blackened, and she was covered in cuts and scrapes, but it was her.

"Don't make me hurt this baby!" He threatened, and for the first time Dean and Sam realized a baby had been crying underneath it all. The baby had to be Crowley. There was no other explanation that fit.

"No! Please!" Rowena sobbed. "I'll behave! I promise!"

He grabbed her hair. "Come on, get up!"

"Angus please! I'm scared!"

"I said get up, bitch!"

"Let go of my hair! Please don't do this Angus, please! I love you! We- we can go away! We can take the baby and leave!"

"Fuck you!" He thundered, punching her in the jaw and sending her skidding across the floor. "This is all your fault!"

"You're drunk! You'll never get away with this!"

"I already have." He raised a fist to her and she cowered away sobbing, putting her hands up as a feeble attempt at self defense.

Suddenly, a hand reached up and caught the fist.

"No you haven't." Said Dean in a voice cold as ice. With all his might he punched Angus in the jaw.

Rowena watched the scene, frozen with shock and unable to move. Her tears ceased as reality played out before her. In a scene that could only have come from her most outlandish dreams, she watched the Winchester brothers and Castiel take down Angus. Castiel helped to hold him down while the brothers worked to cuff him. Angus fought them as he tried to escape, shouting to her and chilling her to the bone with his words.

"I won't forget this! I'll get you someday you bitch! Do you hear me?! You and your baby are DEAD! YOU'RE DEAD! YOU'RE ALL DEAD!"

The door shut, and he was gone. There was no sound but the slowly fading noise of Angus' rantings and ravings and the sound of her own labored breathing. She winced each time she took a breath. A part of her brain told her that her ribs might be broken, but she couldn't really process or understand the thought. She was still too startled from her experience that reality seemed to be a place far distant from her. How long she sat there, mind numb and body ridden with excruciating pain, she didn't know. But reality quickly came crashing on her when the door opened and the three men stepped inside, free of Angus. She started to cry again, out of hysterical despair and relief in equal parts.

It was when she heard another shrill wail that she was brought back to life completely. She looked over and saw her son crawling toward her. She went over to where he was, despite the horrific pain dogging her every movement and pulled him into her arms. She sobbed and clutched the baby to her chest, kissing his head, cheeks, nose, and forehead in relief and joy.

It was over. He was finally safe.