A/N: Crowley trains his replacement for the keeper of the Men of Letters bunker and helper for other hunters.

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Crowley sat in the library of the bunker inspecting the news for anything out of the ordinary. There were signs that could point to cases but all in all it looked pretty quiet. From somewhere outside of the library there was a loud curse followed by several loud noises. Standing Crowley started to make his way out of the library. Moose ran past him just as he was exiting the room. He found Marc in the hallway. Several books and other items were scattered across the floor.

"That damned cat of yours is going to kill me one of these days," Marc huffed.

"Moose lives here too. You're just going to have to keep an eye open for her."

"I swear she hates me," Marc complained.

"Moose doesn't hate anyone. You said it yourself when you first moved in, you hate cats."

"Fleabag," Marc muttered.

Crowley helped Marc finish gathering things and carried them to the library just as the phone rang.

"I got it," Marc sighed. "After all this is going to be my job eventually. May as well start doing more."

Crowley sat down in the chair he'd been reading in and watched Marc. He had been training Marc to take his place after he died. Since Crowley had moved into the bunker he had slowly found himself more and more involved in the hunting world. Eventually he ended up taking on a role as mentor and organizer. Crowley's mind drifted to Bobby. A lot of hunters had lost a good friend and valuable asset when the older hunter had been killed. Bobby's death was one of the few that weighed heavier on him more than a lot of others.

After a while Crowley had taken on a similar role. It was the least he could do. If he couldn't hunt, and at his age that would be dangerous, then he could help the hunters. As time drug on he realized that death was inevitable. The least he could do was train someone to take his place. After much searching for a suitable person he finally started training Marc to fill the same roll. After a few months Marc had moved into the bunker.

The older hunter still wanted to be a part of everything but was getting too old to be in the field all the time. By taking over the roll Crowley was currently filling Marc would still be able to help others. It also helped ensure that the bunker remained in good hands and didn't fall into disuse after Crowley passed. Marc hung up and Crowley raised an eyebrow.

"Nothing important," Marc told him. "Just a few local cops questioning the validity of some of our boys. We're good."

Moose ran over to Marc and rubbed against his legs looking for attention. Marc leaned down and pet the cat.

"Stupid fleabag," Marc said with a slight smile.

"Don't insult my cat," Crowley said yawning.

"Yeah yeah," Marc dismissed. "She lives here too."

Crowley yawned again.

"Go take a nap old man."

Crowley smiled and snuggled down in the chair. Reaching behind himself he drug the blanket off the back of the chair and into his lap. "Moose," Crowley called. The cat came running and jumped into his lap. Crowley settled a hand down on the cat and pet her a few times.

"Don't you think you'd be more comfortable in a bed," Marc asked.

"Mm, not moving," Crowley hummed sleepily.

Moose meowed once as if to agree.

"See she agrees."

"She always agrees with you. It's because I won't feed her any human food like you," Marc told him.

"Always spoil women when you can," Crowley advised before yawning again.

"Get some sleep," Marc ordered.

Crowley woke to someone gently shaking his shoulder. Opening his eyes he saw Marc standing in front of him. Crowley blinked a few times trying to wake up fully.

"What's up," he asked.

"You should get up soon if you don't want to miss your weekly appointment," Marc answered.

Crowley knew what Marc meant. Time to visit Gina for flowers and then Lisa. The one thing he didn't talk about with Marc was why he still visited the grave of someone who didn't have anything to do with the hunting world. Marc, for his part, never asked. Crowley supposed everyone had their reasons for becoming involved in hunting. He never asked Marc what got him into this. Probably for the same reasons Marc didn't ask about Crowley's weekly visits. It was personal.

"I'm up," Crowley told Marc.

"I fed your cat," Marc stated as he turned to leave.

"Thanks," Crowley told him, sitting up.

"Whatever," Marc grumbled.

As much as Marc complained about Moose the other hunter seemed to really care about the cat. Moose seemed to actually like Marc as well. It was one of the many reasons Crowley picked Marc to be his successor after he was gone. He thought about what it would be like when he finally passed. Moose following Marc around as he took over all of the research, acted as a check in so they knew which hunters were closest to certain cases, took calls and helped the other hunters when needed. Crowley smiled.