She stood under the water for a long time, eyes closed as the jets of water massaged her skin and the steam opened her pores. For the first time in her life, she looked at her future and didn't see struggle or the numbing sting of depression. It wasn't a life of monotony ahead of her. Not anymore.

In the comfort of that thought she was able to take the most satisfying shower she'd ever taken. She opened the shower door, the whole room smelling like lavender and vanilla. She dried herself with a towel that felt like it had never been used and was about to wrap herself in it before spotting the clothing that had been left on the counter sometime during her shower. She was sure then that it had been Crowley who kept the door from locking.

Grace picked up the soft, black pair of underwear that, thankfully, would not be up her ass all night. She tried not to think about Crowley getting them for her or wonder where exactly he'd gotten them as she put them on. The only other article of clothing was a black dress shirt that could only have belonged to Crowley. She picked it up, feeling the satiny texture slip across her fingers as she brought it up to her face. It smelled like him.

Grace put on the shirt, making sure to button it correctly and that she wasn't going to accidentally show more than she meant to. She rolled up the sleeves and fixed the collar, admiring herself in the mirror. The shirt was barely long enough to cover her ass, which would have been ideal had she not been about to go prance around a hotel room with the King of Hell. Her wet hair was so dark it almost looked black and the contrast of her ice blue eyes was stunning.

As Grace was towel drying her hair there was a loud bang, immediately followed by a booming voice.

"Alright, Jabba. Where are you hiding Laia?" Despite the geeky reference the voice was loud and threatening. And unfortunately familiar.

"Oh, not you two again," That was Crowley, an annoyed growl taking over his voice. "She's just gotten out of the shower. I don't suggest you go barging in," Grace opened the bathroom door and peeked out. She could see Dean pointing the nose of a shotgun at Crowley, no doubt with Sam somewhere behind him. Without thought, Grace ran from the bathroom, positioning herself between Dean and Crowley. Both boys lowered their guns slightly.

"Get out of the way, Grace," Dean warned, looking ready to kill whether he had to go through her or not.

"Grace," Sam gestured for her, looking panicked and holding his hand out expectantly.

"You morons," Crowley stood and placed himself next to Grace, sliding his hand over her back before gripping her shoulder. "Do you have any idea why you're even here?" He asked the boys sharply.

"Stop screwing around, Crowley. We're here for Grace. Now, hand her over," Dean snatched Grace's wrist and before she could react he was across the room, the force of his impact with the wall knocking a painting to the floor.

"Grace will not be going anywhere," Crowley shoved Grace behind him. She clung to his shirt in a panic, prompting him to turn his attention to her momentarily.

"Don't worry yourself, darling," He gently removed her hand and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it before turning back to the problem at hand.

"She sold her soul to you. That means she has ten years of freedom before you can collect," Sam said, now pointing his weapon at Crowley once again.

"I'm afraid you're wrong, Moose. Grace and I have a different sort of deal," Crowley informed him.

"Different how?" Dean groaned as he stood up from where he was crumpled on the floor.