Chapter 16: Lure me with your lying flatteries

Oh God.

Oh no, no, no, no, no. What had she done?

She woke up, covered in a thick travelling coat, and turned to face the man sleeping beside her. Without hesitation she burst into tears, letting them spill shamelessly down her cheeks as the figure next to her turned over in his slumber. How could she have let this happen?

What had she done!

Quickly, she donned her scattered clothing and walked from the bar, trying to remember the events of the previous day, so hazy from a rare afternoon spent with friends and too many bottles of Jack. It was futile however, receiving only glimpses of images, of people, talking, laughing, dancing, and drinking in a seemingly never-ending manner. It would seem she never left the bar.

Somehow, she had woken up after a night of drunken stupidity with an equally naked Michael.

She returned home and showered immediately, scrubbing every inch of her body. She was due to meet with Crowley this afternoon before business took him elsewhere for a few days. Dread was just one of the emotions flying through her system. What to do, what to do…

How could she have been so stupid as to let herself sleep with Michael? Sure, she had wanted it for some time, something that even Crowley knew, but given their circumstances, she knew such a desire could never be satisfied. She settled for admiring him from a distance, never letting herself get too close, and most importantly, never ever mentioning his name to Crowley. But now after too many drinks, she wound up biting the bullet anyway, and she was officially screwed. Crowley will kill him, before punishing her in unthinkable ways. He told her of the parties he attended, the revels, the celebrations... If he participated in such corrupt practices when he was happy, she could not fathom the breadth of his imagination for torture when he was irate.

Over the past month she had been gathering together evidence, and putting pieces of the puzzle together to try and figure out Crowley's plans, especially those pertaining to the Winchesters. She had managed to keep it completely secret, gathering information from other hunters she ran into whilst working for Crowley, or those rare few who came through the bar. Even though she had no idea what any of the information led to, it was somewhat of an achievement; somehow she was able to keep part of her life away from Crowley. It kept her sane knowing that privacy was still achievable if she was willing to work at it. She knew the repercussions should he find out; being willing to work at it becomes easy when you're life is on the line. Although she knew he would find out eventually, hopefully, when that time came, she would have gathered enough intelligence to kill him without the threat of her own demise.

This would have to be her only source of comfort with Michael. She grabbed her cell, noticing several missed calls and alarmed text messages from his number. Instinctively, she deleted all record of him from her phone and turned it off, not wanting any unwelcome contact from him whilst Crowley was around.

Putting it down on the bedside table, she walked over to the kitchen counter to brew some tea and hopefully calm her nerves. Any minute now…

As she reached up to grab her favourite mug, she felt someone come up from behind and grab her waist, running their hands along her side until they reached her hips, moving inwards with firm purpose. Her eyes fluttered shut as Crowley started rubbing her groin through her jeans, focusing his middle finger on the firm stitching running down the centre.

Michael's face shot into her mind and her eyes snapped open. Grabbing his hand away from her, she turned around to face him, affecting a confidence which in reality was thoroughly shaken.

'I need to get this over with Crowley, I have to work tonight'.

'Of course, and given my personal interest in the trivial aspects of your private life, I will of course happily comply.' His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and she sighed, walking to her wardrobe to grab her jacket.

'Fine, do what you will.'

'Oh so it's obedient Barbie today, how thoroughly unlike you,' he said dryly. Damnit, she cursed. Always fight back. Quickly tossing together an explanation, she replied 'I just can't be bothered arguing with you today.' He didn't hesitate in walking over and grabbing her arm, quelling the fear that he suspected something. Taking a mental sigh of relief, she allowed him to transport her to their private bedroom, sleeping with her second person in 24 hours.

She knew Crowley would find out; he was too damn cunning, and her acting skills were too damn poor for him not to. But losing Michael, one of the few beacons of light in the craphole of her servile life, was a thought she could not bear to contemplate. It would seem that despite whatever her best efforts may be, the unimaginable would indeed become the inevitable.

I'm never drinking again, she recited for the millionth time. Although, of course, previously such outlandish statements of intent had been due to a particularly painful hangover, not the impending assassination of her best friend. Her mind raced as she thought of ways to conceal this from him, though she knew most would inevitably be insufficient. Her best bet would be for Michael to leave Duluth, and for Crowley to be unenlightened for as long as possible to ensure his safety.

'I think that glass is polished enough,' came Juanita's voice from beside her. She put the tumbler onto the counter and picked up the next one, smiling in a pained sort of way. She was finally able to get to work an hour late, after Crowley insisted on several rounds of sex purely to emphasise his complete lack of affinity towards her non-hunting responsibilities.

For a reason she couldn't quite pinpoint, she abruptly turned to Juanita and confessed, 'I had sex with Michael last night.' Her head snapped around so quickly Jo was sure it was going to fall right off.

'Wait, what?' She asked, clearly shocked, 'but what about your-'

'He doesn't know, and he can never know. It wouldn't end well for Michael.' Juanita just stood, staring at her, waiting for an elaboration Jo wasn't planning to provide.

'Damn alcohol hey?' She said lightly, trying to lift the solemn mood. Jo nodded, returning with a weak smile. 'Well, what are you going to do?'

'I... don't know. But my – whatever he is – is dangerous. I know I've alluded to it before, but if he finds out,' tears started threatening the corners of her eyes, 'I don't even want to imagine what would happen...'. Her voice started cracking as she gathered up the momentum to add, 'listen, Juanita, I think- I think I'll need your help.'

'My help?'

'I need to convince Michael to leave, to get as far away from hear as possible.'

Juanita contemplated Jo's request for a moment, shook her head angrily and threw the polishing cloth onto the counter, walking towards the back entrance.

'Juanita, wait!' She cried.

'No,' she said and turned around, shooting Jo a look of such disappointment she was sure her insides would never stop crumbling. 'No, that's enough. I've watched you now for almost a year, throwing yourself into this black hole of a relationship, bending over backwards for a guy who has beaten almost every inch of resolve out of your system. I have watched you fall in and out of love with him, I have lent an ear and comforted you against my own better judgement and I have just sat back and watched him treat you like a dog. And now you want me to help you rid this town of one of my best friends? No. I'm done.' She finished, throwing her arms into the air in submission.

'I know how it looks!'

'Do you! You know I get that some relationships are hard, and I get that maybe you can't get out so easily, but the Jo I knew would never push her own friends out of town because of her own drunken mistake. He has taken every inch of the girl I loved and replaced her with some hollowed out shell, too scared to face her problems head on. Please, count me out of this circus. I'm done.' She repeated, walking out of the bar.

The tears spilled over her cheeks. She was right, of course. Jo had known for some time the permanent damage Crowley had done to her, but she thought that at least, as of late, she had evened out enough to regain some form of her old self. Perhaps not. Perhaps this Michael situation had taken her back to square one.

But this wasn't about her. This was about Michael and his safety, which in this situation, needed to come first. She closed the bar early, resolving to get him the hell away from there as soon as possible.

He didn't take it well. The whole "you have to leave town now, for reasons I can't explain, but it's for your own good" argument is only viable in dramatic soap operas. He promised her he would leave and visit his parents in New York for a few weeks, but for no longer than that. It was the best she could ask for; if it had have been him asking her, she knew she wouldn't even grant him that much. Secrets are exhausting, and with the number she had it was surprising she wasn't constantly fatigued. She wished she could just have someone, anyone to understand. Juanita was her only real outlet, and now she wouldn't return her calls. If she was planning on reconciling with Jo, all hope would be dashed when she discovered Michael's absence. Everything was such a mess, and a future in this town, with that bloody demon without the support of Juanita or Michael became incomprehensible.

With Crowley gone until Tuesday, she had three solid days of nothing: no friends, no hunting assignments, no work. She couldn't go on a road trip because Crowley had demons watching the state lines. She couldn't do freelance hunting because he forbade it and stationed connections everywhere. She couldn't see her friends because she had driven them all away. She had become a prisoner in her own town.

Not comfortable with relying on her own darkened thought for company, she rented a dozen slasher flicks and resolved to wait out the days of boredom until work on Tuesday morning.

Crowley's attendance at the bar was very limited until she caved and convinced her boss to start ordering in bottles of the supremely expensive Craig to satiate his complaints about their lack of premium whiskey. It shut him up, but also saw his presence at work increase, mostly on Tuesdays when the bar was near empty and she was the only one working. Even her nasty perverted manager never showed up anymore. Of course, after a weekend away on business, she was not at all surprised to see him walk through the door at dusk wanting a drink. She didn't actually think he really wanted to be there, but knew how frustrated it made her.

'I know you have a store of this in your own house.'

'I come for the view,' he said, smirking at her.

She scoffed, placing one hand on the bar and the other on her hip, 'well, so long as you don't mind the 300% mark up.'

'Close up the bar early tonight. I have some business to attend to later this evening and we have an appointment before then.'

'No. I'm not supposed to see you until tomorrow night.'

Looking vaguely irritated he added, 'and now you have one tonight.'

'At this rate, if you keep cutting my hours, you're going to have to support me.'

'And here I thought you'd be too proud to take my dirty demon money.'

'I'd rather you just give me a break,' she replied, testing the waters in her usual fashion. He sneered at her reply, and downed the rest of his glass. 'One more,' he said, throwing it to her.

Her back was turned, pulling the bottle from the highest shelf, and so it was Crowley who was the first to notice Michael walking through the front door.

'Bar's closed, son,' he said, arrogantly.

'I believe I make that ca- Michael!' Her heart sank a few feet below the ground. Shite! 'You're supposed to be in New York. Wh-what are you doing here?' She asked shakily. Crowley looked at her tentatively, noting her changed demeanour. Her eyes darted between them uncontrollably. Michael never looked kindly upon her association with Crowley, and seeing their relationship in a similar light to Juanita. She knew this attitude would make him tactless, and by the look on his face as he marched to the counter, his discontent with the situation wouldn't help in the slightest. Her breath hitched as he started talking.

'Jo, I get that you're spoken for, and have no real plans to change that anytime soon,' he shot a look at Crowley, who appeared curious, even amused, 'but I know how he treats you. I can give you so much more than... this,' he finished, nodding his head towards his adversary.

'What?' Crowley asked, half laughing.

'I'm pretty sure you heard me, old man,' replied Michael scathingly.

'Ol-Old man? So that's what you see me as, Michael, is it?' He replied, pointing at his chest. He was clearly enjoying this, as Jo could tell, however the amusement had evaporated from his voice as he replied, 'then it must kill you, son, to know how often I throw her down and pound the stuffing right out of her. And it is go-ood!' He said, leaning back.

'Hey!' Interjected Jo, thoroughly horrified by the turn of conversation. Michael, it seemed, felt the same.

'You shit! You show her no respect! You know, I see you for what you really are,' he said, pressing his finger to Crowley's chest; ' a bored, tired, pathetic, middle-aged man, whose only perverted form of pleasure can come from tearing apart those who are of far better character than themselves-'

'Michael STOP!' Screamed Jo.

'Yes Michael, you would do well to stop. Because you're right, she is spoken for, and if you continue to insist upon looking down your nose at me, I can guarantee the next words out of your mouth will be your last,' threatened Crowley, placing particular emphasis on those final three words.

'Just go, Michael, you have no right to be here,' she said, furiously. What was he thinking? His lips tightened to an almost non-existent white line, his entire body shaking with rage.

'Yes, run along tiny human,' sneered Crowley, returning to his earlier bemused expression. Michael turned to Jo, opening his mouth as if to speak. Thankfully, her frantic head shaking in warning convinced him otherwise, and he marched out the door.

'You would do well to not indulge the boy, Harvelle. If I hear his name again I'll make you watch as I hang him from the ceiling by his intestines' He warned, downing the last of his scotch and rising to his feet. 'Be done in 20 minutes, I'm getting antsy,' he said, and vanished.

Somehow, she had dodged a very violent bullet.

A/N

No I did not forget about this story. It has just fallen by the wayside as I entered my final semester of university. So here it is, A NEW FREAKING CHAPTER! *hears applause* No… stop… you're embarrassing me….

I just want to say there is a solid chance I would have completely abandoned this story if it weren't for the constant support. Even the heap of you who subscribe (but never review), thank you for just taking the time to read it.

Title: Faust (duh).

This chapter is a bit out of the blue, and the issue might not be breached again for some time, BUT it is necessary. Also, it's a solid time filler as we move to the end of 2006 and into 2007. Story ends in 2009. So expect a good dozen chapters at least left. Once I get around to them of course.

Any questions, PM me

Also: Apologies to Luna del Cielo – I was going to update the story at about 2am this morning after work, but wine was provided (and I'm easily distracted by shiny Shiraz). Cheers for the continued dedication to the furthering of this storyline.

-thesolitaryone-