Bollocks. Oh, bollocks.

He'd found him.

Bollocks.

Crowley took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fear that was twisting his gut unpleasantly.

"You can do this, Crowley," he muttered to himself, his eyes fixed on the man just visible inside the cottage. "You were the King of Hell for god's sake. You can do this." He took in another lungful of air and forced it out it a whistling gush. "Oh, god," he whimpered.

Straightening himself up, he tweaked his perfectly straight tie and strode forward determinedly.

He knocked four times on the solid wooden door, ignoring the ornate brass knocker. After weeks of searching, you'd think he'd be at least a bit pleased he'd finally found Cain. In theory, he was. He hated missions. All this legwork with no payoff – how did the Winchesters do it?

He heard footsteps on floorboards and gulped.

That's enough, he told himself, rolling his shoulders. You've dealt with this guy before; he's not that bad. He tried to believe that.

The door swung inward and Crowley looked up into the bearded face and stern gaze of the very first murderer.

"Crowley," he greeted with a small nod. "It's about time you worked up the courage to knock on my door. I heard you arrive over an hour ago."

Crowley blushed. "Well, had to make sure I was presentable for the first born, now didn't I?" He spread his arms and glanced down at his immaculate suit.

Cain raised one dark eyebrow sardonically and stood aside to allow Crowley to enter the small house.

"So you knew I was coming, then?" Crowley asked as he walked down the narrow corridor and into an open-plan kitchen and sitting room area. Cain's new home was almost identical to the previous one. The same couches faced each other in front of a dormant fire in the chimneybreast. The same photos of his dead wife adorned the single bookcase in the corner. Looking around the quaint little cottage, you'd never suspect it was inhabited by the once most powerful and feared demon in history. The man had a crocheted throw draped over the backs of the couches for god's sake! Talk about nightmarish.

"I assumed you or Dean would find me eventually." He gestured to one of the pear coloured couches and Crowley sat, putting a hand over his tie. "How did you manage it? You told me last time we met that the spell you used was a once off trace for the Blade."

"Yes, well, the Winchesters can be remarkably resourceful when they want to be."

"So Dean sent you?" Cain sank down onto the couch and crossed his legs, reminding Crowley forcefully of an old lecturer he'd made a deal with a while back.

"Not exactly. His brother, Sam."

Cain raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Sam? And why are you running errands for a human? Are you his lapdog now?"

Crowley smiled humourlessly. "Ha ha. Sam and I are business partners."

"And what business is that?"

"Stopping Dean."

Cain remained silent, nodding knowingly.

"So you've heard what's happened to him? What he's been up to?"

Cain uncrossed his legs and leant forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I have heard. He's quite the successor," he added regretfully.

"You knew he'd do all this?"

"No," Cain said slowly, staring at the mahogany coffee table between them. "But I know the Mark. And I know how it can twist one's thoughts. I warned him it was a terrible burden. I had hoped he would be strong enough to resist its power."

"Yeah, well. He did try. Before he died, he did try to fight it, but ..."

Silence fell between them as they each stared into empty space.

"So," Crowley said, suddenly brisk. He needed to get this over with before his host turned nasty. "Will you help us stop him?"

Cain looked up, his deep eyes thoughtful. "Why do you think I can stop him? That I'd even want to?"

Crowley looked taken aback. "Well, I just assumed, since you gave up the Blade and all that you'd give a damn that a good man is using it to, basically, ruin the world!"

"A good man?"

"What?"

"You think Dean Winchester is a good man?" Cain clarified evenly.

"I tell you the whole world is literally in danger and that's your takeaway?"

Cain merely stared at him with those steady, fathomless eyes.

Crowley rolled his. "Yes, I think he's a good man. They both are. Just don't tell them I said that, I'll never hear the end of it."

"And what is the worth of a demon's opinion on the virtue of a human?"

"Excuse me?" Indignation was making him bold. "You don't want to take my word for it, fine. He stopped the apocalypse –"

"He also started it." Cain interjected.

Crowley glared at him. "Yeah, but he and Sam stopped it when no one else could have – no else would have. He's been fighting since he was a tot – look, my point is, he doesn't deserve this curse you gave him. And, more importantly, the world doesn't deserve what he's planning."

"So you say I do deserve the curse of the Mark?"

Oh bollocks. "No, I didn't say that," Crowley backtracked desperately. "It's just, I've known the kid for years and despite what a pain in the ass he is – look, do you know what the idiot's planning?" he asked, exasperated.

Cain nodded. "He killed Abaddon. I imagine he's taken her place as leader of her soul mines and army. He'll probably try to take over Hell. And then, presumably, bring his demons to Earth. And to war."

"... And?" Crowley prompted.

Cain blinked. "There's more?"

Crowley took a calming breath, resisting the urge to insult the demon sitting opposite him. "He's already taken Hell. And not just taken over management, he's repopulated it with his own army. All loyal exclusively to him. All raised on what he's told them and nothing else. Idealists, all of them, but smart, too, and good fighters –"

"What do mean 'repopulated'?" Cain's brow was furrowed.

"I mean repopulated – he's killed every single demon that was in Hell when he stormed the keep. Now his demons are the ones turning souls and torturing, and only his demons. And he'll have hunted down the rest of them who were up top by now. 'Cept for me, of course."

"Why hasn't he found you?"

Crowley reached into the neck of his shirt and pulled out the corded pendant to show Cain. "Finest in demon warding."

Cain leant forward slightly to peer at the charms fastened into the leather thong. "I wondered why I couldn't sense you," he murmured, more to himself than to Crowley. He straightened. "I assumed I was just getting on in years. I'm still not sure if I can lose my abilities or not."

There was a pause as Crowley tucked the pendant back under his shirt and readjusted his tie.

"So the demon Winchester has taken Hell," Cain mused. "Impressive for one so young. He's –"

"A natural," Crowley finished for him. "You have no idea."

"I still don't see why that's such a tragedy. Most of those demons were pompous old traditionalists. No imagination."

Crowley barked with laughter. "That's what I'd been telling them for centuries!"

Cain's beard twitched in amusement.

"But," Crowley continued, his tone serious once more. "Dean isn't. He's creative and he's got drive. He's already made hundreds of new demons. And," he said, pausing slightly for dramatic effect. "I don't think his plans will end with Earth."

"What do you mean?"

"He means to attack Heaven. Take over. Divert the power of all those millions of souls to his own ends. I can't be sure that's what he's planning, but it makes sense. It's what I would do if I were him."

Cain leant forward, looking perturbed. "Heaven? What makes him think he can take on the angels?"

Crowley smirked. He loved knowing more than others. "The angels fell. You didn't notice that global meteor shower a year and half ago?"

"I did," Cain allowed. "I just assumed they'd all be back in Heaven by now. Even without wings, it's not that hard to travel between dimensions, and especially since they are of Heaven, one spell would be enough to return them to their home."

"That's probably what they thought. But Metatron, the old scribe, sealed Heaven off. Some angels are back there now, but they're weak and disorganised. Ripe for the ambushing."

Cain fixed Crowley with a penetrating glare. "And do you honestly think that Dean Winchester has the power to take Heaven?"

Crowley met the old demon's eyes without fear. "I think Dean Winchester can do a lot more than just overthrow the angels. I think he could turn every soul in Heaven to black smoke within a few years."

Cain blanched.

"And unless we stop him now," Crowley continued, his voice low and emphatic, "there won't be anyone left strong enough to try."