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Liz: Thanks! Will do :D

Liv: Weeeelll, I don't usually dabble in Resurrections myself, but I know a necromancer who offers great deals – no? Or you can just have a new chapter :p

Chapter 13: Let's Get Down To Business (To Defeat the Hastur)

"Sooo, ganking Hastur. Our best shot is getting Aziraphale close for a direct exorcism, but you're sure that would be a bad idea."

"Pretty much," Crowley nodded. "I...wouldn't want him to die because Hastur's hunting me," the demon said, though he wasn't looking at Dean.

They were currently alone in the room, Sam having gone outside to retrieve more equipment from the Impala and Aziraphale unsurprisingly having offered his help.

Dean was now looking Crowley up and down very carefully. A demon making deals to save his own skin was nothing new.

A demon jeopardizing his own life to protect an angel was.

The older Winchester narrowed his eyes.

"...you're not very good at this whole demonic thing, are you?"

Crowley glared at him over his sunglasses.

"Shout it from the rooftops, why don't you."

"That's what I thought. Because your evil deeds, dude, they suck."

"Excuse me?!" Now Crowley actually seemed insulted. "My wiles are top notch, thank you! I keep telling people, corrupting souls isn't about quality but quantity, but will anyone ever appreciate my work? Nooo, of course not."

"What?" Dean asked, now honestly lost. Crowley waved an irritable hand.

"Most demons try to rake in souls one by one. Your average cross roads demon? Hangs around forever, and maybe makes a couple of deals a year. Succubi trying to corrupt priests take even longer. Not to mention that kind of blatantly obvious blundering about more often than not gets them noticed and excorcized by the likes of you," the demon explained, somehow giving off the exasperated air of someone who had held a particular lecture many times.

"...okay," Dean said, although he had no idea where Crowley was going with this. "And you...?"

"Ohhh, I'm more ssubtle," the demon replied with a smile, and now there actually seemed to be some pride in his tone. "I corrupt whole-sale. Bit by bit, blackening hundreds of souls little by little."

"Huh?"

"Like, for example, roadworks that seem to take forever."

"Oh yeah, hate those," Dean replied automatically. "But what's that got to do with-"

"I invented those."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh yeah," Crowley replied, smiling at the surprise on the hunter's face. "I'm also responsible for hotel plastic card keys that never work, the Z-block appearing when you don't need it in Tetris, and restaurants being fresh out of dessert despite it still being an hour until closing time," the demon counted off smugly.

Dean blinked, leaning forward. "You," he said, somewhat hoarsely, "Invented dessert shortage?"

Crowley grinned. "Yup."

And it was at that point that Sam and Aziraphale walked back in right as Dean's fist was landing squarely in Crowley's face.

"That is for every single slice of pie I never had!"

"Dean! What the hell!"

"You ssstupid hairless ape-!"

"Stop it, Crowley!"

Dean had tensed up as the demon's eyes had started glowing red, the hunter already expecting to be thrown against a wall next (this had happened so often by now that Sam and Dean had already developed their very own rating system for wall-softness – the car trips sometimes could be very boring), but Aziraphale had raised a hand and Crowley relaxed again, the red print Dean's fist had left on his cheekbone vanishing.

The demon glared at both the angel and the hunter.

"He hit me."

"Were you telling him about the restaurant thing, dear?"

"...maybe. He asked," Crowley pointed out plaintively.

"Yes, I'm sure he did. But you know how difficult it can be for people to find out about our involvement."

Crowley's lips settled into a sulk. "He just doesn't understand my genius," he muttered. And thought he probably shouldn't mention his involvement in the invention of blue shells in that case.

Sam and Aziraphale were now setting more demon-destroying stuff on the table and Crowley scooted a bit backwards.

"You still haven't answered my question," the younger Winchester said to the angel, indicating there might have been a conversation going on before they came back in. "What is the Guardian angel of the Eastern gate of Eden doing in Soho?"

"I was sort of...relocated," Aziraphale replied, looking uncomfortable.

"What, Heaven has a department rotating system?" Dean grunted.

"Uh, no. I lost my post because I...misplaced the flaming sword I was given," the angel now looked faintly guilty.

"You misplaced your flaming sword?" Sam asked, one eye brow raised.

"Actually, he gave it to you lot," Crowley drawled as he was a bit gingerly picking his way through the equipment. not looking up from the gear on the table.

Aziraphale didn't look at them. "They had just been cast out," he said quietly. "It was the first rain, and they looked so cold. She was pregnant, too," he said, and now looked at the two hunters in a way as if he was almost asking them for forgiveness.

"Wait," Sam said and Dean could see he was currently making that face that meant he was thinking very, very fast. "You're talking about Adam and Eve, aren't you? That means...you gave the humans fire? Like Prometheus?"

"Wanna explain that to rest of us, nerd?" Dean asked, and Sam looked at him with that kind of expression that should have annoyed Dean because of its lecture-y-ness, but didn't, because it meant his kid brother was excited about something.

"Prometheus," Sam clarified, "The first hero in Greek lore. He stole fire from the gods and gave it to mankind." He nodded at Aziraphale. "That legend might be based on him."

Crowley raised an eye brow, but Aziraphale actually seemed to blush at the statement and that was a first for an angel.

But to Dean, something else was more interesting.

"So...you weren't punished for giving it away? Most of what I heard they don't take very kindly to ideas of free will up there."

"Well..." Aziraphale fidgeted a bit. "The Lord did tell me I would fall."

"But you didn't," Sam stated, and now both Winchesters were interested, because this was the first non-archangel who claimed that he had actually spoken to God directly. "What made Him change His mind?"

The angel gave a tired smile, as if remembering something that had happened a long time ago but to him might still have been clear as day.

"I said it might be worth the fall of an angel if it meant the rise of an ape," he said. "I think He liked it. I didn't fall, though I did lose my post. My new assignment since then has been mostly to live on Earth and encourage mankind since I apparently liked them so much," Aziraphale said the last sentence with the air of quoting somebody, but he did so fondly.

Dean leaned forward, interrupting the reverent air.

"You are aware that God is kinda AWOL, right?"

The angel gave a small shrug. "I know it can seem that way. But it's true that His ways are ineffable."

"Ineffa-whu-?" started Dean, but Crowley stopped him.

"Don't. Seriously, don't. We'd be here for days."

"What happened to the flaming sword?" Sam asked curiously, not only because he thought it might help in their current fight with Hastur and Alastair, but also because he remembered how Castiel was still hunting around for divine weapons to use against Raphael. Dean also looked newly interested, but Sam correctly assumed this was mostly because his brother thought 'flaming sword' sounded awesome.

Aziraphale cocked his head a little. "Well...the last time I saw it, War had it."

"War?" Dean frowned. "We saw him. He didn't have a sword."

"'Him'?" Crowley laughed. "War is a woman, boy. War has always been a woman."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he was a guy," Dean retorted. "Not many salt and pepper ladies with a receding hairline around these parts."

The demon snorted. "Nah. Believe me, kid, War is a woman. So blessedly beautiful and enticing from a distance that the men of your species used to run after her for millenia, only to find out up close that she's not very pretty or romantic at all." He gave a cold smile. When Dean looked like he was about to protest again, he waved a hand.

"If you've seen anyone claiming to be her, it probably was one of her delegates. Possibly Riot. Drive a big sports car?"

"Yeah..." Dean replied with a frown and Crowley nodded.

"That'll be him. War works as a reporter and rides a motorcycle. Last time I heard, she was in North Korea." Crowley shrugged. "She has had the sword for a while now. Not the angel's fault," – he briefly looked over at Aziraphale who still seemed faintly guilty – "but that's humanity for ya. Give them fire, they make war."

"Well, our sides tried to destroy the planet," Aziraphale pointed out in a reasonable tone, adding, "Twice, apparently. I think we agreed humanity is a good thing?"

"I suppose," Crowley said, sounding like he was making somewhat of a concession on that one. "Not that it's going to matter much if Hastur comes on up tonight and decides to level half of London," he added glumly.

"Yeah, about that," Dean said, standing up again. "What are we gonna do about it? Less talking and more practical planning please, Ladies."

"We don't technically have a gender," Crowley pointed out, but it still sounded like the demon was a bit miffed at the address. "How do you usually deal with powerful enemies, anyway?"

"We, uh, usually wait until they look the other way and then we stab them," Sam said. He had to admit himself that this didn't sound very professional.

"Really," Crowley said.

"Sometimes one of us distracts them and then the other comes up from beh – look, it works, okay?!" Sam replied, now seeming to get somewhat pissy at Crowley's unimpressed stare. "We're humans, okay? We push stuff down into pits. We yell 'Look over there!' and then we backstab. Taking down stronger things when they're not paying attention is practically what we do."

"Okay, okay," Crowley raised his hands. If he was completely honest, at the moment he wasn't able to come up with a much better plan himself. After all, the last time he had tried to stop a Big Bad, he had gone into battle with nothing but a crowbar.

"How long approximately until Hastur and Alastair get here?" Dean asked, apparently trying to keep this flying circus of a conversation on track if it killed him.

Crowley grimaced. "I'm thinking he's now going in for the kill - ascend in something like his true form. As in, a bespoke body, like mine and Aziraphale's. It takes some time to apply for one, but when he does have it, he could tear us all to shreds."

"How long?" Dean repeated again, in the tone of voice of a man who had been torn to shreds before and hadn't been all that impressed.

Crowley ran a hand through his black hair, "A demon of his status versus hell's bureaucracy...I'd say he'll be here by midnight."

"With Alastair in tow," Dean added grimly.

"So we need to figure out a way to distract Hastur, a duke of hell, so Aziraphale can perform that excorcism. While Alastair will be doing everything he can to kill us," Sam summed it up. "Fantastic."

"Do you know anything that could distract Hastur sufficiently?" Aziraphale asked, but Crowley only shook his head.

"Look, I've been doing my damndest to stay out of that guy's way for the past several millennia. And we don't exactly have celeb demon mags down there to read about the nobility." With a look at Sam and Dean, he added: "I invented those, by the way. Fostering jealousy like nobody's business."

"Great. I'll call you if we ever need help saving the world with an editorial," Dean replied with a touch of sarcasm, earning another slight glare from yellow eyes.

"Hey, if you're the tall and brawny all-American army here, I'll gladly leave that battle to you," Crowley said glibly. "Why don't you call in your trenchcoat warrior, if he's the big excorcising cheese, and Aziraphale can stay out of the fire?"

"Cas is busy," Dean replied coldly. "Besides, he's got a lot on his plate right now, so the last thing I want is for him to get banged up wrestling with some dangerous hell mo'fo that isn't even his responsibility in the first place."

"Okay, okay," Crowley held his hands up to stop the argument and Sam thought that if this hadn't been a life-or-death situation, watching both Dean and Crowley both trying to be the bigger protector of their respective angels might even have been funny.

"Besides, the last time Cas tried to excorcise even only Alastair, it didn't even work. Sam had to take care of him," Dean added. "If that Hastur freak is even more powerful, I don't know squat what to do about him."

"So we need to do some more research," Sam said, and Dean winced, already knowing where this was leading.

"Spend the day buried in the angel's book store?" he asked miserably. Sam nodded, and while both the resident demon and the older Winchester looked less than thrilled, Aziraphale actually seemed somewhat pleased at this notion of where to spend your possibly last day alive.

xxx

The doorbell jingled as Crowley entered, the door conveniently forgetting it was supposed to be locked. After him, Aziraphale and the Winchester brothers trooped into the shop, dumping the bag with the equipment Crowley had deemed suitable against Hastur on the floor. Dean slumped down in a seat, opening the laptop he had brought in a hopeful attempt to maybe avoid having to read an actual book, while Aziraphale wandered off to a particular shelf and started going through the titles, trailed by a mildly curious-looking Sam. Crowley discovered something on the kitchen table.

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"There's a note on your desk here. Says 'Lizard stuff taken care of, PLEASE NO MORE DIMENSIONAL PORTALS,

Love,

the Doctor.'"

The demon raised an eye ridge.

"Do I know this person?"

"Oh, he passes by," Aziraphale replied a bit distractedly. "Nice fellow. Really likes books."

"Right," Crowley replied with a bit of a confused frown.

"And he sometimes leaves me absolutely wonderful hot chocolate as a present," the angel added, walking over and picking up another small bag that had been lying next to the note and which was indeed emanating a slightly sweet chocolate smell. Aziraphale smiled. "It does taste as if it was out of this world, I swear-"

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah. And now, let's stop talking hot chocolare and start discussing slaying freakin' hell beasts from the pit, because in five hours' time we need something that packs more punch than even an excorcism from a damn angel, in case you have forgot-"

"Wait, there's a PS," Crowley interrupted him, having turned the small note around. "Says 'Oh, and for your hell thing - look at the FUN bookcase!'." The demon looked up.

"Okay, angel, just who exactly-?"

"The 'fun' bookcase?" Dean asked flatly, apparently having long since given up on protesting when weird strangers knew way more than they should.

"There's this shelf with fantasy books and stuff," Sam replied, nodding toward the case with the brightly coloured novels inside. "Also has us," he added with a grimace.

"Yeeeah, not touching those," Dean said carefully. "How are they supposed to help, anyway?"

"Maybe it wasn't referring to your series," Aziraphale said, looking thoughtfully at the shelf, his eyes roving over the other colourful titles standing next to Supernatural. Everyone else's gaze followed his, and Crowley's stopped at a particular seven-volume series.

"Wait, I think I may have an idea..."

xxx

"THEY! THEY WERE THE ONES WHO FOILED ME IN THE CAFE!"

A few metaphorical stories down below, literally all hell was currently breaking loose. Several smaller demons and Imps had already hastily vacated the premises of Hastur's department, and most of them were still accelerating. This was mostly because the duke of hell himself, now once more in his own body, was currently tearing anything he could get his hands on apart, and that also included any unfortunate personal.

"THEY RUINED EVERYTHING!" the duke roared, breaking his Crowley dartboard in half.

"Yeah. They have that habit," Alastair agreed, the human demon only sounding a tad bit resigned at that statement.

"Alright," Hastur hissed, turning around. "No more puny posssessions. I will ascend in my true form, and I shall lay waste to their homes and devour their corpses and drag that wretch Crawly with me to hell where he shall wish he would be only subjected to the torture I will heap upon those miserable Chinwenches-!"

"Winchesters."

"Whatever their name is, it shall frighten children to hear it when I am done with them because no one will ever have felt as much pain!" Hastur bellowed, not letting himself be interrupted in a good rage fit, much in the manner of most seasoned middle management executives.

"You better plan that well, then," Alastair replied calmly. "Actually, both of them have been down here already. I think they've started treating death as some sort of revolving door."

"Oh, that won't be a concern," Hastur growled like a wounded tiger. "I am a duke of hell," he said, and curiously, the corners of the room seemed to grow darker as he said it, the gaunt from of the high-ranking demon now somehow looking taller without him having moved at all, "I will ascend in my true form. When I am done with any one of those three, there won't be anything left that you could scrape out of the depths of Dis..." he hissed, and his voice was a tone that would have melted a mortal coil on the spot as the infernal duke spread his dark wings.

The effect was only slightly ruined by one last, forgotten retriever puppy gnawing enthusiastically on his pointy shoe.

To be continued...

YES! Almost up-to-date in SPN (just missing the last episode) and it's finally picking up but WHYYYYYY can't they have Cas and the boys together SERIOUSLY IS THAT SO HARD ARGH-!

...yes. No worries, have almost contained myself again over here. BUT, hope you liked the chapter (even though it was a slow one, but hey, gotta have set-up) and if you read, please review! :D