Still waiting for a certain angel of the weekday starting with Thurs and ending with day...

CeleryFallenAngel- yeah, you know I do ;)

TheSwanWriter- Whhaaaa? You changed your name? Well, that certainly threw me through a loop! Hello ESwan! Haha! Everyone wants Krysta and Kevin to be together xD Is it because their names both start with K's? :P Yay for your account working again! *confetti* That's why I never really said much about Krysta :P And you're going to learn more about her later...yes... *folds fingers into that evil mastermind triangle thingy* and no worries about not reviewing earlier. you did it now. That's what counts :P

I DON'T OWN SUPERNATURAL!yet. I'm working on it. Waiting for Erik (yeah, we're on a first-name basis) to text me back.

Chapter 10 – The King of Hell

When the light surrounded Krysta, she couldn't move, couldn't speak. She had no idea what was going on, so when the light dispersed, she expected the worst.

What she didn't expect was Sam, Dean, her uncle Cas, and a demon—Krysta recognized her, Meg—to be staring at her expectantly.

"Welcome back, kid," Dean smirked.

Krysta folded her arms over her chest. She opened her mouth to make a snide retort, but stopped. She was looking up at Dean.

Up.

Looking down at her body, she let out a gleeful squeal.

"I'm me again!" she crowed. Hugging herself—damn, was it good to be back in her own body—she glanced around the room. "But, how…?"

Sam pouted. "Apparently it was Gabriel who pulled a Freaky Friday on us. Dick probably got quite the kick out of it too. Cas sorted things out."

Krysta looked to her uncle. "Thanks," she said sincerely. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion when Castiel ignored her, muttering something about monkeys.

"Hey," Dean clapped his hands together, regaining the angel's attention, "focus. Is Kevin alive?"

Seeing how uncomfortable her uncle looked, Krysta answered for him. "Yeah, he is. They have him."

Dean turned to her, his eyes wide. "Leviathans?" Krysta nodded. "How do you know?"

"Because I was just there."

"Guys," Meg interrupted. Krysta resisted the urge to roll her eyes and ask why is she here? The hunters shifted their attention to the demon who was looking at a full bowl of seemingly random objects. "What's all that?" she asked.

"We called Crowley," Sam answered.

'Crowley? As in, gave-me-the-Colt Crowley?'

Meg's eyes grew comically wide. "You what?"

"Don't worry, he never showed," Dean assured her.

"What do you mean never—"

"You see him anywhere? He stood us up!"

"Well," the demon scoffed, "I'm sorry about that, but I'm outtey. He could still show—"

"Show up at any time."

Crowley's words had overlapped Meg's and five heads whipped around to the sound.

'Great,' thought Krysta, 'him again.'

"Hello boys," Crowley greeted the Winchesters. "Krysta. Long time."

Krysta stifled a groan. "Crowley," she drawled. "Hear you're the new King of Hell. Sorry, my fruit basket must have gotten lost in the mail."

Sam and Dean's shocked expressions met Krysta's. "You know him?" they asked in unison.

She rolled her eyes. "Remember how I said I got the Colt from a guy I knew?" When the boys nodded she gestured to Crowley. "He's the guy."

"Yes," Crowley smirked. "Sorry I'm late. This is an embarrassment of riches. Stay, won't you," he told Meg who had made her way closer to the door. "There's really nowhere to run." When she tried anyways, he appeared in front of her, blocking her exit. "Don't even think of smoking out, Pussy Cat. I've got eyes all over the place," Crowley warned.

"Leave her be," Cas ordered, stepping forward.

Krysta balked at his words. Why was he protecting a demon?

"Castiel." Crowley was the epitome of calm. "When last we spoke, you…well…enslaved me. I'm confused. Why aren't you dead?"

Shaking her head sadly, Krysta sighed. 'Ah, uncle Cas, what did you do this time?'

"I don't know."

"Well do you want to be? Because I can help with that."

"Alright, that's enough," Dean intervened.

Crowley sneered at him. "It's enough when I say. I came here to help you; find out you've been lying to me, harboring an angel—and not just any angel, the one angel I most want to crush between my teeth!"

Krysta barked out a humorless laugh. "Oh, so you can crush angels now?"

Facing her, Crowley tilted his head to the side. "You bore me, you know that? You've no sense of poetry."

Bristling slightly, Krysta harrumphed. 'I'll show him poetry.'

"Now, what do you have to say for yourself?" the King of Hell asked Castiel.

"Well I'm still honing my communication strategy. I haven't even been back to Heaven, I keep thinking there are no insects up there, but here we have trillions. They're making honey and silk and…miracles really."

'Uhh,' thought Krysta.

Crowley stared at him in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"Um, preferring insects to angels I guess," Cas looked at them as though it were obvious. Walking to Crowley, he pulled a bag of…something out of his trench coat pocket. "Here," he handed it to Crowley, "an offer—token, if you like." When Crowley stared at the bag, unmoving, Castiel explained. "It's honey. I collected it myself."

Krysta gaped at her uncle, her jaw practically hitting the floor. Was he being serious? Castiel—warrior of God, angel of Thursday, the man who rescued Dean from Hell—was handing the King of Hell a Ziploc baggie of honey, grinning proudly.

Crowley looked to Dean for help. Dean shrugged.

"You're off your rocker," Crowley accused. "He's off his rocker, is that it?"

Krysta's hands flew up to her mouth. 'Oh no. Oh, uncle Cas, no.' This couldn't happen to him. He was too strong, too smart, too…too… She knew she was wrong when no one moved to correct Crowley.

Reaching over and grabbing a shot of whiskey, the King of Hell laughed. "Karma's a bitch, you know."

"Look," Dean said exasperatedly, "did you come here to donkey-punch your old grudges, or to help us end Dick? Pick a battle!"

Putting the alcohol back down, Crowley looked at the older Winchester. "Well, I'm vexed. I'd like to do both. But where's the fun in clobbering a ball of wet fur? Text me when Sparkles here gets back his marbles, I suppose."

"Hey!" cried out Krysta indigently. Even if he was crazy, Cas was still her uncle and she wasn't going to let Crowley just walk all over him. "Why don't you leave the insults for someone with a comeback!"

"Maybe later, Sweetcheeks," he replied, smirking. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Crowley pulled out a vial of blood. "Meanwhile, a little present."

"Really, just boxed up and ready to go?"

"I'm a model of efficiency."

"Is that right?" Sam was skeptical, for good reason too. "Then why were you late?"

"Dick had me in a devil's trap." Crowley rolled his eyes. "He's not an idiot. He knows what you two are after.

"So what did he offer you?"

As they spoke, Krysta scratched her head. 'So Crowley's blood is the key to Dick's downfall? And if he was with Dick that whole time, and he doesn't know I was there, chances are that neither did Dick. Then we might actually have a shot at winning this! That is, if Crowley's telling the truth…you don't get to be King of Hell for nothing...

"…hilariously, it seems he'd be upset by losing you." Crowley was speaking to Meg when Krysta tuned back in. "And the boys need Cas to get Dick, don't they Cas?"

"Well I…I don't fight anymore."

"Come on," smirked Crowley, "given the particulars of your enemy, sadly, you're vital."

Tossing the vial into the air, Crowley vanished. Thankfully, Sam had caught the blood.

Krysta shuddered. "Man, I hate that guy!"

Reviews will get you multiple scenes with the Winchesters clad only in skimpy, too-short towels in season 8 once Supernatural's mine!