CHAPTER 2

Dean and Sam Winchester sat at the diner booth, Dean working on a cheeseburger, Sam forking at some salad. Sam kept his eyes on the open laptop in front of him as he read something about human/alien hybrids infiltrating the US military.

"Do you think that could also apply to the fae?" he asked.

Dean rolled his eyes and took a sip from his beer. "Come on, Sammy. College is waaaaay behind you. Let's ditch that crap and get out of here."

"This could be important. Remember when Garth—"

"You should've gotten a cheeseburger," Dean continued. "Put some meat on those scrawny arms of yours."

Sam looked down at his biceps, horrified. "Scrawny arms?"

Dean grinned. "A growing boy needs protein, Sammy."

"Is that how you got so buff, Dean? Sucking down load after load—"

"Hello boys."

Sam stopped dead in the middle of his sentence. He continued staring at Dean, who stared right back at him. Neither needed to look up to know they had a guest.

Standing at the end of the booth was Crowley, a lopsided grin on his face. He waved a hand, trying to get Sam to move over. He sighed and took his salad with him.

"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean asked.

"A moment of your time, Moose." Crowley nodded to Sam. "Squirrel."

"Forget it," Dean said. "We're through. After that fucked up adventure with those Zim brothers—"

"Zimventure," Sam said.

Dean ignored him. "—I'd say you owe us. So turn around and fuck right off."

Crowley frowned. " I owe you?"

"That's the way I see it."

"How's Baby doing?" Crowley asked.

Dean didn't say anything.

"It's remarkable that you can actually answer that question, considering how she was a burnt out wreck before I worked some of my mojo."

The muscles of Dean's jaw started working furiously.

"That ended wonderfully for everyone except the Zims," Crowley continued. "The fact that you and Squirrel got away healthy, wealthy and, well, I hesitate to say wise. But you did have your beloved Impala with you. So you actually owe me. And I'm calling in my favor."

"This is—"

"Dean." Sam's eyebrows went up. He had a wordless conversation with his brother before Sam turned back to Crowley. "All right. Say we owe you. What, exactly, do we owe you?"

"If he says our souls, I'm—"

"I have a bit of a problem," Crowley said, "and it's funny that you should bring up the Brothers Zim, as one of them is involved."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered.

"How?" Sam asked. "Both of them were locked in the Cage. If one of them went missing, why didn't the other?"

"Unless they're both missing," Dean said.

"I only said one of them," Crowley said. "Cris Zim."

"Thank fuck," Dean said. "The other one is so . . . so . . ."

"Gross?" Sam said.

"Agreed," Crowley said. "One of my own demon-ish weirdoes went rogue, and he foolishly thought it would be a good idea to let Cris Zim out. Not entirely sure why."

"Right," Dean said.

"At any rate I need to get him back into the Cage, and you're just the boys who could do it."

"Not happening."

"I'd reconsider," Crowley said. "Think about how many times your paths have crossed recently. Do you really want to risk running into him out in the wild? Why not just reassure yourself by putting him back in the Cage?"

"We might as well do it," Sam said. "We can sit here and argue it all day, or we can just do it and get it over with so Crowley can stop hanging around us."

"Squirrel makes an excellent point."

Dean growled, and his hand creaked as it tightened around his beer bottle. Finally his eyes closed, and it looked like he was praying silently only for a second. Then he drank down the rest of his beer and pushed the bottle away. "Something tells me I'm going to need something stronger."

"I knew I could count on you," Crowley said. "Shall we?"

TO BE CONTINUED . . .