Ermergerd, a new chapter. More of a fragment, really. Ending's not very dramatic because I was too lazy to adapt the fact that I copied and pasted half the whole chapter into just this one so I could update before people started unfollowing me. ~le sob~

- hire a navy! -

'Listening' turned out to be more of an ordeal than expected. Castiel wasn't at all happy to see Crowley, which wasn't much of a stretch, but this time something felt different. It was like the dynamic of their relationship had somehow shifted. Dean couldn't exactly pinpoint it, so he put it off as just another side effect of this new stolid personality Castiel had adopted since the civil war broke out in heaven.

However, despite Castiel's advice about how Dean should not trust Crowley (did it seem like Dean was stupid enough to trust him, or…), the angel didn't stick around. Apparently, duty called, so it was only Dean who ended up alone in the Impala with a snippy demon who had no respect for premium leather or classic cars. Having him in the Impala seemed wrong, but Crowley had insisted they talk somewhere safe, and Dean knew of no safer place than the Impala. Not even heaven had proven as safe as that damned car.

Crowley didn't seem to agree with his sentiment. "You call this safe?" he groused. "How can you stand traversing the country in this wretched old thing?"

"Hey," Dean objected. "Don't talk about my baby like that."

Crowley quirked an eyebrow. "Well at least we know where your true loyalty lies," he remarked , and Dean didn't have the words to respond, so instead he fumed silently in the driver's seat. "Let's get this over with, then." Dean gave him a small nod, but maintained his scowl.

Casting a distasteful look around the car, Crowley began: "I said I was losing things. Getting them back, however, isn't the issue. I need to find out exactly where and why they're slipping away... and whether or not there's a 'who' behind it."

Well-well then. It was an issue relevant to Dean's interests. Then again, any issue where Crowley was being humiliated was relevant to Dean's interests.

"Okay, so what exactly are you 'losing'?" he asked, making quotes around the last word.

It was a perfectly sound question in his opinion, but Crowley still rolled his eyes. "Souls, Dean. I'm losing souls."

"... what?" His mind jumped immediately to the angel who had just left them. "You mean someone's taking souls? Have you tried asking heaven?"

"No, you don't understand," Crowley sighed impatiently. "They're not being taken. They're being… released."

'Released' was an interesting word. "Wouldn't that mean it's someone on your end?" Dean suggested somewhat condescendingly.

"Yes, and no," Crowley drawled, as if both annoyed and amused at Dean's assumption. "You see, there's a common factor within all the souls I've lost- I haven't technically gained them yet."

It took Dean a moment to realize the meaning behind Crowley's words. "So people are finding a way to get out of crossroads deals," he stated, narrowing his eyes. "I thought you held all the deals, and you were the only one who could, y'know, de-hell them."

Crowley raised his glass in a sarcastic testament to Dean's observation. "You see my predicament, then."

Dean was now starting to think that this actually might be his kind of thing. After all, the last person to have broken a deal was Bobby and the Winchesters, and they were sort of a special exception. It certainly was puzzling, but Dean was still unclear on why he should care. After all, broken deals were kind of his thing. If someone was out there imitating him, he should be supporting them- not helping Crowley reel them in. It seemed as if he had nothing to gain.

Just as he was about to voice his thoughts, however, he was rudely interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Crowley threw him a disparaging look, but Dean ignored him, grabbing the phone from his pocket and checking the caller I.D. It was Sam.