A/N: Thank you so much again to all those who left reviews for me! I'm so happy to know that the characters are staying true and that you guys are enjoying this. This chapter is less action but sets up some new players that will become important later. I hope you enjoy! Also, please let me know if I get any characters wrong. I try very hard to stick to their personalities but it can get difficult at times.

The standoff seemed to last forever even though Bobby knew he was safe within the bunker. The devil's traps etched into the walls assured that the monster at the doorway wouldn't dare cross into the room but it did little to ease the unnerving stare being directed at he and Castiel. "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. You're not being very cooperative," the demon teased, "if I were in your shoes, I'd be doing everything possible to make some friends in hell. After all, you still belong to us, don't you?" The hunter shifted uncomfortably at the reminder but stayed silent. "How long did he give you? Or did you even get a time limit?" An eerie smile twisted the man's face as he watched for any reaction to his words and Bobby took another step back, turning to partially block Castiel from view.

"None'a your damn business," he retorted, "You won't be alive long enough for it ta matter anyway."

The demon laughed, a low, ugly sound and looked up at the ceiling. From above they could both hear the continued struggle punctuated by the loud cracks of Dean's pistol and Bobby's heart tightened at the thought of what the Winchesters were facing upstairs. "If you're waiting on the cavalry, I wouldn't hold my breath. And you can't stay in this bunker forever, old man. The child doesn't need to eat, but you do. Why put yourself through that? Think about it, Bobby," the man offered in oily tones that made the older man's skin crawl, "you have something we want. We have something you want. Just make a trade. I can get your soul back and all you have to do is give me the angel."

There was a moment's hesitation on the part of the hunter. It was true; like any sane man, he didn't WANT to go to hell, in fact he'd do almost anything he could to avoid it, but when the demon mentioned Castiel in trade, a look of utter disgust filtered over Bobby's features. "If I was the kinda man that would do that, I would deserve to go ta hell," he snarled, "Drop dead. Only way yer getting' him is if ya send me to hell ahead of ya."

The man let out a low growl and reached for the doorway, his hand stopping just a few centimeters away as he realized even the doorframe was made of the offending metal and etched in sigils. His eyes narrowed dangerously as he spoke. "Don't be a fool. You think this is going to end here? Even if you manage to keep me at bay, how long do you think it's going to take before all of hell hears about this? You'll be swimming in demons and they won't be as generous," he warned.

Bobby scoffed and rubbed his hand reassuringly over Castiel's back. "I'll take my chances," he said flatly. Cold steel pressed into the skin behind the demon's left ear and the sound of a hammer being pulled back sounded in the suddenly quiet room. The creature had been far too preoccupied with its presumed prey to realize that the fighting upstairs had died, nor had it heard the sound of Dean approaching from behind. "And right now," Bobby continued with a smirk, "I think my chances are lookin' pretty damn good."

Sam moved down the last of the stairs and pulled up beside Dean. "Bobby? You and Cas ok?" he called, his eyes trained on the monster Dean had locked down.

"Yeah. Took ya long enough," the older hunter retorted, "I thought I was gonna have to stand here till he talked me ta death."

Sam and Dean exchanged flustered glances before shaking their heads. Both were covered in superficial wounds, bruises and cuts littering their bodies from head to foot, and Sam had a nice sized gash across the left side of his brow. "We'll fend off the murdering hordes faster next time," Dean snarked grumpily. He pressed the barrel harder against the demon's head and clamped him on the shoulder, forcing him to his knees. "Now, who sent you?"

The demon chortled and risked turning its head to look back over its shoulder. "Someone you will regret interfering with. Trust me when I tell you that things will go so much easier for you all if you just give me the child. You have no idea what you've gotten yourselves into."

Dean's lip curled in irritation and a dangerous growl formed in the back of his throat. "I'm not interested in playing games, asshole. Just tell me who sent you or I'll snuff you clean out of existence." His patience had been worn far too thin over the last few years to indulge in these sorts of conversations with demons. He knew the denizens of hell well enough to know that their words were just as dangerous as any other weapon they brought to bear and all he wanted right then were simple concise answers.

The demon scoffed at the threat and shook its head. "You think dying scares me? I know what will happen to me if I help you. I know what's hunting the angels." He shot an oily smile up at the brothers. "And I know what's going to happen to your precious little infant when it gets a hold of him. Do you want to hear?" The words sent chills up Dean's spine and his stomach turned at the obvious joy the demon was taking in whatever sick thoughts were running through its head right then. "Do you have any idea how rare infant angels are?" it continued quietly in a voice that left the hunter feeling ill, "Do you know what we do with them when we get them? All those little feathers. Such tiny delicate things," it whispered hungrily, "such fragile bones. The older angels aren't as much fun, you see. You can't kill them, not really. But infants? Oh I almost wish he was still in the egg." The demon licked its lips obscenely and before he even realized it, Dean pulled the trigger, shudders wracking his body as he tried to wipe that image from his mind.

"Well, so much for interrogation," Bobby said as the demon's lifeless body flopped to the ground.

Dean slid his gun away and shot his friend an irritable look. "What? You wanted to keep listening to that shit?"

"Hell no," Bobby said, "I'm glad the miserable SOB is dead but we ain't gonna get any answers out of him now, are we?"

Sensing an argument, Sam quickly stepped in between the two of them and made his way into the bunker. "It doesn't matter. He wasn't going to tell us what we wanted to know anyway but he DID tell us something useful," he said as he reached to take Castiel from Bobby's arms. He knew the older hunter had done a good job protecting the infant and yet some selfish part of him needed to hold Cas again for his own comfort if nothing else. The rage he'd felt upstairs had unsettled him, a reminder that he had not escaped hell without his own scars to bear, and he sought out the calming affect that cradling the tiny angel had produced before. As he lifted Castiel and pressed him close to his chest, he could already feel the comforting warmth that spread out from where the child lay. The muscles in his shoulders and back relaxed and he let out a long low sigh as he rubbed absently at the soft patch of skin between the neatly folded wings, careful not to brush the feathers themselves. Castiel also seemed to have relaxed in the absence of demonic presence and he lifted his head from Sam's shoulder to curl under the protection of his chin instead. The wings flicked once and then stilled though they were no longer sealed tightly against his skin the way they had been when he'd been frightened.

Dean joined the others in the safety of the bunker, pulling the door shut behind him as he entered. "You wanna elaborate on what the hell he said that you actually found useful?" the older Winchester said, his voice still low with distaste.

Sam turned to face him as he rested his chin ever so gently onto the top of Castiel's head. "He said they don't know how to kill angels, Dean. Think about that. It means that wherever Gabriel is, chances are he's still alive. We just have to find him."

Dean mulled over the thought for a minute and nodded. "Good thinking. Now we just have to figure out how the hell to do that. We can't exactly go around putting up flyers all over the neighborhood. 'Reward: Lost angel. Responds to the name Gabe or Trickster. Do not leave alone around family pets or hot chicks.'"

Sam sighed. "Well I don't know what else to try. You'd think the other angels would be out there looking for Gabe too but we can't exactly ask them if they know what's going on."

"No," Bobby interjected, "but we might be able to ask someone from the other side of things." He looked meaningfully between the two brothers. "Crowley," he said with disgust. "I hate to say it but that slimy bastard knows all about what goes on down in the pit and he might be able to get us some answers. The kidnapping of an archangel should be making headline news downstairs. No way he won't know somethin'. "

Dean was already shaking his head. "No," he said emphatically, "Last time he showed up, you sold your damn soul to him. I don't trust him. We'll find some other way."

"I know what I did, son," Bobby said, his voice holding a clear warning that he didn't want to discuss the subject, "an I did it to save the world. So sue me. Not a one of us in here hasn't been in the same boat at some point. But it ain't like he can do more damage either. Can't sell him my soul twice. So we get him here, ask him some questions and if he acts up, we send his ass right back out the door."

Sam didn't like the idea any more than Dean did but he had to admit that it was an angle they hadn't played yet and it might yield a little more information on what they were facing. "Can't hurt to give it a try, Dean," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring voice, "We keep Bobby and Cas in here and summon Crowley out there," he nodded toward the door, "They'll be perfectly safe."

Dean scowled and shot challenging looks at both of the other men in the room but it was obvious that they'd all but made up their minds already and as much as he hated to admit it, they had a valid point. Crowley was a miserable, vile, and entirely untrustworthy being but he had proven some level of usefulness during the final battles of the apocalypse, even if that help had often resulted in some of the worst days of Dean's life. "Fine," he snapped, turning on his heel and striding from the room, "but he steps ONE foot out of line and I'm shooting his ass."

Sam let out a slow breath. He had backed Bobby's play but certainly didn't care much for what they were about to do. It was with a great deal of reluctance as well that he parted with the warm bundle that had settled beneath his chin but he wouldn't risk bringing Cas anywhere near another demon again. The reactions of the others had been surprising and extremely unpleasant and it was not an experience he wished to repeat even if he was sure he could protect the angel. While Bobby waited with Cas in the bunker, the Winchesters set to work building a protective circle in which to summon the demon. They gathered the ingredients from around the house, which had suffered heavily from the attack, and then closed and barricaded the door to the cellar to ensure they didn't have any additional unwanted visitors interrupting the ritual. When all was set and ready, Dean cast Sam one last sidelong look which his brother answered with a nod. A match was dropped into the mixing plate where it flared a bright yellow against the sulfur and smoke began pouring from it in a thin sickly ribbon. The stench filled the air and Dean crinkled his nose. He really hated demons. The candles they had set up around the makeshift altar guttered in a nonexistent wind and the brothers quickly glanced around the room.

"Good evening, gentlemen," drawled a smooth voice from directly behind them, "Why do I get the impression this isn't a social call?"

The Winchesters snapped around to find Crowley leaning nonchalantly against the stair railing, dressed as impeccably as always, with his fingers laced together as he watched them. Dean swallowed the instant urge to strangle him. The smugness was practically rolling off the man's form and it irked a serious nerve for the hunter. He'd been beaten severely because of Crowley's supposed help and had even been left to meet death face to face because of it. Not to mention that the man he thought of as a father was consigned to hell because of this being. Dean's fingers itched to reach for the colt and just end it right there but he knew that wouldn't help them figure out who was behind everything they were dealing with, nor would it free Bobby. "We need some information," he said tersely.

"I see," Crowley responded, "and you thought you'd just ring me up, we'd have a sleepover, and I'd spill my guts like a twelve year old girl? Come on now, boys. We've done this enough times, you know how it works. What's my incentive?" He smiled patronizingly at them and Dean's ire rose even more. He hated feeling like he was out of his league and talking to Crowley always left him feeling like he was the punchline to a joke he didn't even understand yet.

"How about 'spill it or I blow your damned head off,'" Dean spit. Crowley raised a single well manicured eyebrow and then looked over at Sam as if the younger brother were the voice of reason among the two.

"Well aren't WE in a lovely mood this evening. But let's skip the melodramatic threats, shall we? After all, you didn't bring me here just to kill me and a dead body isn't exactly going to help your cause, now is it?" Crowley glanced over at the corpse of the demon lying in front of the bunker door. "Though you do seem to have a habit of stockpiling them regardless." The demon righted himself and straightened his jacket, wiping away an invisible speck from one lapel as if leaning against the banister had sullied him somehow. "So what is it this time boys?" he said as he strolled toward them, "Lucifer is back in his cage and the whole sodding world's already been saved. Shouldn't you two be off somewhere holding hands and picking flowers or something instead of mixing it up with demons again? Or is it just that you missed me?"

A slight smile curved the corner of Dean's mouth. "Oh trust me, Crowley. I might miss you at some point but it won't be with the first shot."

"Funny," Crowley said dryly, "You're a regular bloody comedian. Now can we skip to the point? I have an appointment in a half an hour with a lovely little thing that is ready to sell his soul to be a rockstar and I don't want to miss it. So let's make this quick."

"We want to know who's got the archangel Gabriel," Sam blurted out.

Crowley stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at the younger Winchester. "Let's just say anyone picking that sort of fight isn't someone you want to go getting mixed up with. Besides, I thought you already had a pet angel. Looking to start a collection?"

Sam huffed in annoyance. These games were getting old very quickly and pulling information out of Crowley was nigh impossible without going into logic circles that he had no doubts would leave his head pounding later. He knew full well that Crowley was twisting them into giving away more intel than they were getting but he didn't know what other options they had. "Cas is…in trouble. We think the one who took Gabriel is the same one responsible for what happened to Cas and we need to find him. Can you help us or not?"

Crowley looked thoughtful and admittedly curious. "Well, I can't tell you who went and caught themselves an angel, whoever it is is taking pains to keep it quiet, but perhaps if I knew more about this trouble, I might be able to figure it out. Or you could continue being obtuse and I can simply be on my way. I have better things to do than play guessing games with the poster children for mixing guns and ADD."

Dean and Sam exchanged looks and it was obvious that Dean's mistrust at this whole situation was growing by the minute. He pulled the colt from its hiding spot just to be on the safe side and then yanked the bunker door open. Crowley peered inside and his brows shot up at the sight of Bobby cradling the infant Castiel in his arms. "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

Bobby looked positively furious at the sudden appearance of the demon and he shot up from his seat. Castiel swiveled about to look at the new intruder and his wings instantly folded down in a sign of discomfort. "What the HELL are you DOIN'?" Bobby shouted, "Have you lost yer damn MIND?"

"He wouldn't help us until he knew the whole story, Bobby. I don't like it either," Dean said stiffly, his eyes locked on the demon in front of him and the colt at the ready, but Crowley wasn't reacting with quite the same obvious hunger the other demons had. He was smiling enigmatically instead.

"Oh this is just bloody perfect," Crowley crooned, "I certainly wasn't expecting this. Gentlemen, you are, in a word, fucked." He seemed far too pleased by this proclamation and he leaned forward to waggle his fingers almost playfully at Castiel, who was none too amused by this and shied back into Bobby's shoulder. "What you have here is one of the rarest things in existence, boys. You see, new demons are born every time a human goes to hell and climbs down off the rack to take his turn with the whip," he explained calmly, casting a knowing look at Dean, "They're a dime a dozen. But angels? Only God can make new ones and he's bloody stingy with them. I'd say there hasn't been a new angel in over two thousand years or so, give or take a century. More's the pity too since they're one of the most powerful ingredients one can use in demonic rituals. Not to mention they're considered a delicacy," he added offhandedly. The last statement earned him a glare from all three hunters and he rolled his eyes. "What? I've never had one myself," he said sullenly though it sounded more like a complaint than a declaration of innocence.

"So can you tell us who could have done this?" Sam interjected before the subject wandered back into territory he was definitively uncomfortable with. "What kind of demon can turn an angel into a baby?"

Crowley shrugged. "None." He met the eyes of the two Winchesters who were giving him disbelieving looks. "Seriously, at least make an attempt to use the gray matter between your ears. If anyone in hell were powerful enough to turn an angel into a baby, don't you think there would be a lot less angels? We'd be doing it every chance we got. Thing is, there simply isn't any demon powerful enough to do this." He leaned back and folded his hands into his pockets, his voice going low and serious. "Gentlemen, the only thing powerful enough to do this AND capture an archangel, is another angel."