Chapter 4

06:34. That was the time when Christian stumbled into his and Morgan's motel room, collapsing onto the closest bed with a grunt. Morgan was by his side before he had finished falling, worry etched all over her face as what he was feeling radiated off him. He didn't say anything, and Morgan reached out cautiously to touch him to try and comfort him, only to have him jump away from her whilst she was an inch away from his skin. He avoided her gaze as he rolled off the bed, making his way to the bathroom where he could get some degree of privacy, where he could collect himself after the encounter with the tall one that travelled with Castiel. He sorted through the memories he had collected to try and get even a glimpse of a name, but nothing cried out to him. Christian hoped a shower would help his thoughts get in order as Morgan just sat on the bed he had vacated, staring after him. She hadn't had to endure what he had endured, but he needed to share the memories with her, and he would try to hide the experience from her, probably with little chance of success. He quickly decided a shower would definitely help him get the thoughts in order, accidentally slamming the door shut just as Morgan called out his name. Morgan was still sat on the bed, now staring at the door to the bathroom rather than her brother's back. She was hurt - Christian had never flinched at her touch before, and it was a feeling she didn't want to experience again. The sound of the shower turning on brought her out of her reverie, and she turned away, sifting through the memories she had collected from Dean, to try and draw some degree of knowledge and comfort from them. Her mood meant that all the memories drawn to her consciousness were ones of hurt, so she quickly abandoned that venture. She stood and stretched, deciding fresh air would probably help more, when an idea struck her. Smiling, she hastily wrote a note for Christian and vanished, the pen clattering to the table, unnoticed by Christian.

When Morgan reappeared, the smell of sulphur overwhelmed her senses, confirming she had arrived where she had intended even though it looked nothing like what she had imagined. The corridor seemed to go on forever, with just a single file of people waiting what looked like patiently. If Morgan hadn't been able to feel the annoyance and aggrivation radiating off them, she would assume that patiently was indeed how they were waiting. Part of her enjoyed the feeling she could sense, but the other part knew that it was an awful way to spend eternity.

"If you're staying, I'd suggest you take a ticket." The British accent she had been expecting helped her to collect herself, leaving the two halves of her nature fighting it out in her subconscious.

"And if it's just a fleeting visit?" She turned around, smiling, letting the black eyed illusion come down over the blue. "Stuff's happening upstairs, and you don't think I'd leave you out of it, do you now?" She let the black down, showing the natural blue and shuddering internally at the use of that side of her nature. Morgan looked over at the owner of the British accent and smirked at the look of confusion on their face.

"I'm sorry, but have we met?"

"Never had the pleasure, Crowley. But I know who you are, and I need information from you." Morgan stepped forwards to close the gap between the two of them, but Crowley took a step back. There was something about her that put him off in a big way, but he cursed the involuntary step backwards. Damn Moose and his damned ritual. He shifted where he stood, trying to regain his composure and stare down the girl who was ordering him around. Crowley couldn't help but think that she looked remarkably like the vessel Castiel had taken possession of.

"You know, you look an awful lot like someone I know. Sure we haven't met, darling?" She moved closer to him again, closing the gap between the two of them, and Crowley secretly marvelled at the power radiating from within her. It all seemed familiar in different ways, which confused him.

"I believe you knew someone who I'm looking for information on. In fact, I believe you killed her." Crowley blinked. "Why d'you kill her, Crowley? Why d'you kill Meg?" Crowley blinked again, trying to remember who Meg was. He'd killed a lot of people, and didn't bother attempting to know all their names. He rolled his shoulder as a fragment of a memory came back, of being stabbed with an angel killing blade and stabbing back with his own. Then a name hit him. Meg. Now he remembered.

"She stabbed me first..." He, muttered under his breath, trailing off at the end of the sentence, forgetting the close proximity to the girl who gave him the creeps. He didn't register a fist, but the next thing he knew he was on his back, skidding some distance down the corridor. He sat up meeting dazzlingly blue eyes that shone with fury. She grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him closer to her face, noses mere millimetres away from touching. Even in those moments, he couldn't help but have his anger flare at another ruined suit.

"Watch the suit! Bloody hell..." He tried to remove her hands, but they had him in a vice like grip.

"Grow up, Crowley. Now, tell me what I want to know. What was the relationship like between Meg and Castiel?" He moved back as far as he could in her grip, but Morgan was unwielding. It was the only way she was likely to get any answers. Crowley cleared his throat.

"Meg and Castiel?" Blue stared coldly at him. "She looked after him after he removed Moose's psychosis and they got pretty chummy after that because he wouldn't let anyone hurt her. Except me, but Castiel had all but disappeared before it had happened. She stopped me getting my hands on his feathery arse, so I stabbed her, killed her whilst he wasn't around." Crowley noticed a slight shift in her posture. "Ooh, did I hit a nerve?" This time he saw the fist, and felt it connect with his jaw as it snapped out of place. "OW!" Morgan stood up and spat at his feet.

"Screw you, Crowley." She made a move to leave, but Crowley grabbed her ankle.

"Why don't you look into the vessel's past? That might give you more information into their, eh, relationship?" Morgan barely made out what he had said because of his broken jaw before she realised the sulphur smell had gone, signalling that Crowley had left. Morgan quickly followes suit, leaving only the queue to move forward a place next to a long skid in the dirt and a small amount of blood near where the skid ended - the only evidence of any confrontation.

When Crowley reappeared, he found it unusual to be staring out of a window that looked out on to asphalt, but a familiar smell brought him back to his senses. He turned around, not suprised to see the Winchesters and Castiel stood near the bowl used to summon him.

"Hello..." Crowley stopped, spitting out blood whilst ignoring the bemused look from the Winchesters. Castiel just looked understanding as he reset his jaw, wiping a small trickle of blood off his chin.

"What do you want?" Dean was barely supressing laughter as Sam stepped forward, almost into Crowley's personal space. "And watch where you put yourself, Moose. I got my bite back." He moved closer to Sam to prove his point, but hit an invisible wall before he got too close. Looking down, he saw the Devil's Trap chalked on the floor and almost snarled at Sam and Dean. Whoever that girl was had really set him on edge.

"Jesus, what got your panties in a twist?" Dean received a look off Castiel for the use of blasphemy, and a very black look off Crowley. "In fact, I don't care. I just wanna know why you got demons runnin' round people's heads pretending to be angels!" Castiel noted that Sam must have told Dean about the nights events whilst he was still asleep, and the black look disappeared off Crowley's face, being replaced with confusion and then realisation. He straightened his tie and met Dean's stare head on.

"Whilst I'd like to take credit for that one, boys, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint. More of the bastards are starting to follow Abbadon, so they might be hers. And if you hadn't noticed, one of them took a disliking to my jaw." He rubbed a hand across it as if to make a point, then put it back into the pocket of his jacket.

"Looks like more than just a disliking of your jaw. You look like you were on the losing end of a fight." Crowley turned the black look on to Sam, who crossed his arms over his chest and perched on a chair that Crowley hadn't noticed earlier. "Was it Abbadon?"

"No. Crowley does not bear the scent of a Knight of Hell." Castiel's sudden input into the discussion made Crowley jump, and he found himself damning the Moose and the ritual again. Castiel pushed himself off the wall he was leaning on, and discared his coat to the chair Sam was perched on, making his way to the Devil's Trap Crowley was stuck in. He walked right up to the chalk like and began to carefully circle around Crowley, inhaling deeply as he did so.

"Uh, Cas... What are you doing?" He stopped, head tilted in confusion, and inhaled deeply twice more, ignoring Dean's question.

"He does not have the scent of Abbadon on him..."

"We've established." Sarcasm dripped from Crowley's voice.

"But the scent is familiar." Castiel turned to face Crowley. "Why would an angel and a demon attack you simultaneously?" Now Crowley looked confused.

"I've never been attacked by both, not at once. And the girl was a demon - maybe she'd had the altercation with an angel? I don't bloody know!" He paused, thinking about her appearance. The blue eyes sent a jolt down his spine, and he turned to stare angrily at Castiel.

"You! She bloody looked like you, or your meatsuit, or whatever!" Dean stood up now, walking towards Crowley whilst moving Castiel back at the same time. They glowered at each other over the chalk line before Dean stopped.

"She wasn't a demon, Crowley. Trust me, she was a freakin' angel!" He turned to look at Castiel. "She did look a lot like you though, Cas..." He furrowed his eyebrows at the second mention of someone unknown looking like him. He also wondered why it was relevant.

"Why is that relevant?"

"She asked about you. Wanted to know what your relationship to Meg was." Crowley shrugged. "Told her I didn't know, she broke my jaw, went seperate ways." Now Castiel looked confused. He hadn't had any relationship besides their shared kiss after learning it off the pizza man, but a small part of him thought that Crowley was probably not letting on as much as he really knew. Dean nudged him, breaking his chain of thought.

"What aren't you telling us, Cas?" Castiel turned the confused look to Dean.

"I do not know what you wish me to say, Dean. I have no knowledge of what Crowley is implying." Crowley coughed, drawing the attention back to him.

"I think you know, angel. Did you look into your meatsuit before you chose it, or did you just choose at random?"

"I don't understand wha-" Crowley held his hand up to stop Castiel talking, earning him an annoyed look.

"Look into your meatsuit a bit more, you'll get it." He turned his attention back to Sam and Dean, leaving Castiel looking like a fish out of water. "As for your angel/demon/girl... Whatever. Wasn't me, now may I?" He gestured towards the chalk of the Devil's Trap, which Dean begrudgingly wiped a spot away with his foor, allowing Crowley to leave. He grunted in thanks.

"Pleasure doing business with you boys." And he disappeared.