A/N: Thank you, friend, for giving me the heads up this was code for whatever ungodly reason. What the hell, FP? First I can't get my reviews. Now this. *sigh*

Never fails. Any time I get too attached to a place, I always have to leave. Every single time, it's because of Sam, Dean, or Cas. When I was in Missouri? They found me. When I had a semblance of a life in Baltimore? They found me (even though that was more Crowley's fault). When I was on a hunt in Philadelphia? Cas found me. One day. One day, it'll be nice to have a little bit of stability. Until then, I had a beautiful car and the King of Hell as my co-pilot. Come on, Chuck. Can't you cut me a little slack here?

"Well, Lena," Crowley twitched around in the passenger seat, "Off on another exciting adventure then?"

"Yep," I held my face in my hands, "Another day. Another town. Another close call with the boys. Repeat tomorrow."

"What's this?" he gave me a little pop to the jaw, "Why such a long face? You should be alright. I just tapped a vein for you."

"I know," I could feel it surging through my body. A warm and tingling sensation pumped in my veins, "And that may be the only thing keeping me from driving us in a ditch."

"Come on, Lena," Crowley attempted to comfort me, "Talk to me. What's wrong? What has you so manic depressive?"

"Nope," I shot him down, "I know you mean well, but there is no way in hell I'm getting touchy-feely."

After my talk with Cas, I don't think my heart could take it. Besides, I reached my quota for wearing my heart on my sleeve for a while. We can save the melodrama for the boys. For now, I just wanted to get out of Pennsylvania without having any sort of breakdown. I could do that much, right? With all this demon blood giving me an internal hug, everything was possible.

"I have an idea."

"I'll mark it on the calendar," I rolled my eyes, nowhere near being in the mood for Crowley shenanigans today.

"Can I finish?" he shot me a glare.

"Sorry."

"I'll blame it on the blood," Crowley let it slide, "But since you're just a bundle of joy today, you could stand some cheering up."

"What makes you so sure I need cheering up?" I asked, "Are you trying to say I'm being bitchy?"

"Not trying," he clarified, "Succeeding. Demon blood can do that, though. But you're so salty that if I were to touch you right now, it'd burn like hell."

"Pun intended?" I bit the inside of my cheek.

"No." But it was enough to get a cheap smile out of the devil I knew, "But I'm glad it was made now. What would you say about blowing off some steam in the bayous of Louisiana? I could call some crossroads demons for you to smack around. There are quite a few there. That's always fun."

"No," I sighed out, "As much fun as kicking demon ass is with my new powers, I'm not in the mood."

"Alright..." Crowley thought on it for a minute or two, "I got a better idea!"

"Spit it out, Crowley," I groaned, "I'm driving around aimlessly here."

"Since we're on the east coast," he suggested, "Let's go to Disney World!"

"No, thank you," I turned him down, "Long lines, screaming children, Florida. I can already feel the ulcer forming and the hepatitis coming on."

"Only you can suck the fun out of Disney World, Lena," Crowley pouted as I crossed the border into Ohio, "Where are we going then, if not Florida?"

"I know exactly where I need to go," I felt something stronger in my gut than that ulcer and laser focused on the road.

"Lena..." Crowley worried, "Are you alright? Is this something we need to talk about? You're not dragging me into a Thelma and Louise situation into one of the Great Lakes, are you?"

"Tempting," I admitted, "But no. I like you too much to do that. Besides, it'd get too messy. No one would be alive to tell Sam and Dean to stop looking for me."

"I'm sure Chuck would get that message to them," he figured, "Even if I made it out alive, Sam and Dean would assume I had something to do with your death. The last thing I want is the Winchester boys on my ass when their own are involved."

"Don't I know it," I mumbled under my breath, my eyelids growing a little too heavy for my liking, "Hey, Crowley, I think I'm starting to lose my buzz. You think you could be a sacrificial lamb and hook a sister up here? I've done withdrawal once. I'd rather not do it while I'm driving."

"We really need to get you a new demon to bleed dry," he whined, "Or...I like that idea better."

"What?" I guessed, "Filling IV bags instead, so I can suck them down like Capri-Sun at my convenience?"

"It's scary when you're in my head," Crowley nodded, "It's better than you having to ask me."

"And a lot less unsanitary," I approved. Hopefully, he's smart enough to not hold that over my head and keep my blood from me. That was a little bit of an oversight on his part.

"The next time we pull over," he promised, "I'll take care of you. But in all seriousness, where are we going?"

"Sioux Falls."

"Really?" Crowley wondered, questioning my sanity, "Why?"

"I need somewhere to clear my head," I told him, "There's nowhere in this world that centers me like a place in Sioux Falls."

"Bobby's house, isn't it?" he assumed, "Or what's left of it anyway."

On this little back road in the middle of Nowhere, Ohio, with no one else around, I slammed on the brakes and pulled a dagger out of my boot, "Don't."

"What did I do?" Crowley freaked.

"Just. Don't," I gave him the biggest dirty look.

"That's right," he remembered, "That house burned down, didn't it?"

"Crowley," I snapped, slamming on the gas pedal, "What did I just say?"

"Alright, alright," Crowley braced himself, "Just slow down…Please. Whatever it was I did, I'm sorry and I won't do it again. Just please slow down!"

I took my foot off the gas pedal and let her coast for a while, keeping my voice down, "What did you do?"

"Do I not speak Bobby Singer's name in vein or something?"

"Think about it, dumbass," I growled, "Think about how I came to be. What's happened to me TWICE in my life? And who is the one person that means more to me than anything else in the world?"

"House fires are a sensitive issue with you," Crowley settled me, "I understand. I see that's something we'll avoid like the plague from now on."

"Thank you."

The car was running low on gas, I was getting tired, and my belly was a bit grumbly. Besides, a cigarette didn't sound like a half bad idea either. I turned off on the exit and hit a gas station. As the nicotine rush washed over me, I started to even out again. For his penance, I made Crowley go get me another pack and a new lighter and an energy drink. And a cherry pie. Like I said. Grumbly.

"Menthols?" I asked as he came back out with the bags in hand.

"You don't smoke menthols," Crowley froze, "Right?"

"I was testing you," I smirked, "I had a friend of mine that only smoked menthols when he had a sore throat. Said it worked like a charm."

"Should I worry about the company you keep?" he got back in the car.

"No, Dad," I rolled my eyes, "Your little girl isn't surrounded by bad influences."

"Other than me."

"Other than you," I could pretend to hate Crowley all I wanted to. Deep down, I had a soft spot for him. Everyone does eventually whether they want to admit it or not. And I'm definitely not saying this because his blood is hitting the spot right now.

"Hold on," he thought, "Did you just call me Dad, Lena?"

"With irony, yes," I nodded, "Don't read too much into it."

"Do you see me as a father figure?" Crowley jabbed, "Because honestly, I'm flattered."

"Shut up, Crowley," I got back in the driver's seat.

"I'm not sure what to do with this information," he awed, "I mean, I wasn't even this good of a father to my own son, but you could be my second chance."

"Forget I said anything."

"No, no, no," Crowley grinned, "It's you and Daddy for the next fourteen hours."

"I will push you out of the car if you ever refer to yourself as Daddy again."

"Is that any way to be talking to me, young lady?"

"Crowley…"

"Lena…"

"Crowley…" I'm ready to stab him. I can stab him, drain his blood, and walk away. No one would know.

"Fourteen hours," he reminded me, "Fourteen hours of this. Between the blood and the caffeine, you're not sleeping any time soon."

"I could just not talk." Or I could push him out of the car.

"I can find other ways of toying with you." Crowley was really trying to push my buttons today, wasn't he?

"Like any other loving father would do?" I rolled my eyes.

"Aren't you just like every other bratty teenager since the dawn of time…"

I wasn't going to argue with him. I didn't have that kind of energy. The blood hadn't kicked in yet. Instead, I'd just turn the radio up and completely space out. The best way of healing. I wasn't going to have Crowley's shenanigans. Although, once in a while, I'd catch him whispering something in my head that I could hardly make out, but I could only guess it was something suggestive. Or more insistence that he was Dad now. Not happening. I've only called one person Dad for its intended purpose and it sure as hell wasn't Crowley.

After driving through the night and a part of the next day, we finally made it to Sioux Falls city limits without me running my dagger through Crowley. Good for me! I made sure to keep my head down, though. I didn't want to get caught by local cops. They'd take me to the sheriff and I DEFINITELY didn't need that. Jody would tell Sam and Dean and we're trying to avoid that, Lena. It's not like I was going to be in town long. Just enough to get my head on straight again.

"Hey, Lena," Crowley chirped up, "I had an idea."

"We're a little far from Disney World," I pointed out, pulling into the scrapyard. Just as gut wrenching as last time.

"No," he opened up his wrist and put it to my mouth. Bless him, "I was thinking while we're here, we could clean up the scrapyard."

"What do you mean?" I wiped my mouth off and killed the engine. Then, the most surreal feeling set in. The last time this car was here, she was a rusted mess. You definitely had a glow-up, baby. We both did.

"You can do so much more with your powers than exorcise a few demons," Crowley explained, "Do you see that truck over there?"

He pointed toward a beat up old Ford that had to be an early sixties model coated in rust and sadness hiding in the weeds. I remember that truck. Another one of those projects Uncle Bobby wanted to do, but never had the time or the energy to do. He was too busy saving the world from what I've come to understand. No worries, "Yeah. What about it?"

"I want you to focus all of your energy on that truck," he coached me, "And lift it. Then, if you can, throw it aside."

"Are you high?" I scoffed, "There's no way I could lift something like that. I mean, I know I have some serious power here, but lifting a truck seems a bit farfetched."

"You're selling yourself short," Crowley insisted, "Go on. Make Daddy proud."

"What have I said about that?" I cringed.

"And now, you're angry with me," he applauded, "Good. Use that. You want to throw that truck at me, don't you?"

"God, yes," I didn't even hesitate. With my power focused in my hands, I lifted the truck with the greatest of ease and whipped it at Crowley. Wait a second…Did I just lift a truck like it was nothing? I'm not sure how I did it, but I did it, "That just happened, didn't it?"

"That's my girl!" Crowley squealed, "Do it again. Go on, Lena. Clean up the scrapyard. Take out anything you want. Stack everything up just to knock it down. The world is your oyster."

I had to admit. Throwing that truck did feel pretty good. I picked up another car and flung it across the scrapyard. Uncle Bobby always told me to be careful when I played back here. I don't think he ever anticipated me playing like this back here. Stay away from the broken glass, Lena. Little did he know, I was adding to the broken glass. This was fun! Although, my fun didn't last long. All of a sudden, I got really lightheaded and nearly passed out.

"Crowley," I fell to the ground, "What the hell just happened?"

"You're exhausted," he opened the scab on his arm and gave me my fix, "The blood is strong, but you're still human. You need to rest for a while. You did very well, Lena. I'm proud of you. We can find a hotel for the night."

"It's the middle of the afternoon," I attempted to catch my breath.

"And you need some sleep," Crowley helped me back to my feet, "Give me your keys."

"Ok," I couldn't fight him. My energy reserves had been one hundred percent depleted. Although, I knew one place that could help me out. And I still had one of my fake IDs that Dean made for me. Looks like I was going to be Annie Wilson again.

I left Crowley in our hotel room and headed to the bar down the street. I could've stayed and drank at the one in the lobby, but I needed some familiarity. The holes in the wall were my happy place. Those were the places that felt like home. When I walked in, this bar was dead. Perfect. I wanted to be left alone anyway.

"What can I get for you, sweetheart?" the bartender asked.

"I'm not your sweetheart."

"Ok," he backed off, "What are you drinking?"

"Whiskey, if you don't mind," I took some cash out of my pocket and threw it on the bar, "Keep them coming."

"Yes, ma'am."

And so began my evening. I had my whiskey and the bar to myself. I'm not complaining. Although, a sudden wave of melancholy washed over me as a familiar tune started playing on the jukebox. My life story in a Bob Segar song. What is it with Bob Segar finding me so much lately? Weird. Turn the Page always hit me weird. And tonight would be no different. However, it hit me differently than it ever had before.

If it would've been Night Moves, I would've been in tears, but instead of crying, I harbored a heavy feeling in my heart. As much I don't need them, I missed my boys. I wonder where they are right now. After my third glass of whiskey, I spun my phone around on the bar. Dare I do it? Am I that level of buzzed where I still have my head, but I also have a little bit of bravery? Hell, I broke down talking with Cas. God only knows what this phone call will do to me. What the hell? Let's do it.

Ring…

Ring…

Ring…

"Who is this?" a deep voice rumbled, shaking me to my very core, "You should not have this number."

Hold yourself together, Lena. I know it's been a while since you've tried talking to either one of them, but you can do this. That's what the whiskey was for. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to force back any tears trying to make their way up. The lump in my throat was suffocating and my hands struggled to hold my phone up.

"Hello…?"

The tiniest sob escaped my throat. Don't you dare start now. You've come too far. I threw back the rest of my whiskey and ordered another, "Hi, Dean."

"Lena?" he gasped, not quite sure what to make of the situation.

"Yeah," my voice broke. Not happening, Lena. I cleared my throat, "It's me."

"Where are you?" Dean didn't even want to exchange pleasantries. We're skipping the foreplay here. Ok. Understandable.

"At the bar," I wasn't lying to him. Just avoiding certain truths to keep myself safe, "Dean…I'm so sorry."

"And I'm pissed!" he snapped, "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm on a job right now." That job might be honing certain new abilities that Crowley was kind enough to give me, but that's beside the point, "And I got thinking about you and Sam."

"I promise you, kid," Dean growled, "Next time I see you, I'm throttling you. You know that, don't you?"

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"As much as I want to kick your ass," his voice softened, "Damn, it's good to hear from you. In almost two years, would it have killed you to have picked up the phone?"

"It killed me every time I picked up the phone," I admitted.

"Lena," Dean begged, "Please. Come home. When you're done with whatever job you're on right now, come back to the bunker. We'll be here waiting for you."

"To cold clock me with your .22?" I joked, trying to make light of the situation.

"Yeah," he chuckled a little, "We do miss you, Lena. And we've never stopped looking. Sammy and me…We need you back."

"Come on," I tried to cheer him up, "You guys are Sam and Dean Winchester. When it comes to hunting, you're rockstars. You're what monsters check under their beds for. You don't need an amateur like me holding you guys back."

"You don't ever hold us back," Dean assured, "You hold us together. There's a big difference."

That was a blow I didn't need tonight. I downed the whiskey in my glass like it was nothing, "I have to go, Dean."

"Lena, wait…"

But I couldn't bear to keep going. I knew they never stopped looking. Cas told me. I don't hold them back, but I hold them together, huh? For the rest of the night, I knew one thing for absolute certain. I'm getting wasted. The bartender kept them coming just as I asked him. Although, whiskey mixed with mascara infused tears was an odd taste.

"So," Crowley joined me, ordering a top shelf scotch, "Who was that on the phone?"

Someone I hurt. Someone I loved. Someone I didn't deserve. Someone that, despite how much I've hurt him, still loved me. Someone that had the audacity to say he still needed me. Someone that I never thought I'd ever hurt a day in my life. Someone that told me he'd do anything to protect me, yet I've turned around and started hitting something worse than the bottle of whiskey I've probably gone through.

"Wrong number."

A/N: I hate when I end up with a heavy chapter that wasn't intended to be heavy, but it's a punch to the gut regardless. This was supposed to just be some goofy, lighthearted fun with Lena and Crowley and Crowley being a pain in the ass, but then…I need a hug. Unfortunately, my whole house is asleep, including my dog (that's taken a liking to sleeping on my devil's trap rug. Should I be worried?), so I shall send virtual hugs to all of you, friends. Hopefully, I can bring some lightness soon. See you next chapter! xx