21. Crowley

Let me make something clear: I liked playing dress up when I was a little girl. I especially liked it when I had my younger sister at my side. We'd always do little fashion shows and whatnot. But that was before I hit double digits.

I wasn't a fan of playing dress up now.

I wasn't in anything scandalous like you can imagine, just a simple evening gown, just like Jo. We were both made up, it was all part of the plan. How we got here was quite a story.

After the whole incident with Gabriel, Sam, Dean, and myself had somehow been summoned to a, and I couldn't believe it when I heard it, a Supernatural convention. As in, there were books that were based on the boys' lives. The man behind the books was a very lanky man named Chuck, who, I found out, was a prophet of the lord. Of course, only Sam, Dean, and Cas, and possibly a few others I didn't know knew this big piece of information. It was still hard to wrap my head around.

Long story short, turned out the place where the convention was had a real haunting. What made it worse was that the violent spirits were little boys who loved to use big knives. So, when that situation got solved, a rabid fan by the name of Becky (who for some reason looked at me with the most intense look of hatred I'd ever seen on anyone) had given us some crucial information that I, of course, didn't know about. Supposedly, there was this all powerful gun called the Colt, with bullets that could supposedly kill anything. Its current owner was a demon by the name of Crowley, who'd received the gun from a certain woman by the name of Bela Talbot. I'd gotten the (mostly) full catch up between Sam and Dean behind the questions I had about Becky's story.

So, the Supernatural convention led to this plan. Our mission: to get the Colt from this Crowley guy so that it could be used to take out Lucifer and solve all our problems. Cas had been sent on scouting duty, which led us to this mansion. He wasn't going to be able to extract the gun himself, which was where Jo and I came in. We'd get the gates open and take out the security measures. Sounded easy enough, right?

"Don't be nervous," Jo told me as we approached the intercom of the gate. "Just follow my lead."

"I'm not nervous," I said lowly. "I'm not a big fan of this dress."

"It's worth the discomfort." She pressed the button on the intercom.

"Hello?" came the voice.

"Hello," I said shakily. "Our car broke down. We—we need some help."

"I'll be down in a minute."

I bounced lightly in place as Jo and I waited. The voice didn't sound suspicious of us.

I backed up as the gates opened, two men approached us. I looked at Jo, a bit nervous. One for each of us.

"Evening, pretty ladies," said the first man. "Get yourselves on in here."

"We just need to make a call," said Jo.

"You don't need to call anyone, baby." He glanced at his partner. "We're the only help you're ever gonna need."

"You know what?" I said suddenly. "I think we should wait by the car."

Jo and I turned, and we were both turned right back around, knocking shoulders in the process. I hid my fear as my guy's eyes were pitch black. Demon eyes. Keep calm. They'll get taken care of.

"We said," said the first man, who had Jo by the shoulder, "get your asses in here."

Jo shook her man loose, and I jumped away as my guy had a bloody knife protruding from his neck. As the body fell, I threw Sam a grateful smile. He then turned the knife on the first demon, killing him as well.

"Nice work, ladies," Dean commended us, appearing.

"Thanks," we ladies piped. Dean handed Jo a bag, she pulled out something that looked to be wire cutters.

"Okay. Shall we?"

It was determined that I was deemed trained up enough to accompany the boys. I chucked off the heels I had to wear in exchange for being handed over a gun. While Jo ran off to cut the lights on the mansion, Sam, Dean, and I headed inside mutely. This felt like something out of an action movie, or a mystery. Sam was armed with his bloody knife, Dean and I with guns.

"I don't see him," I whispered as the windows filtered in moonlight.

"That's a good thing," Dean told me. "We've got some time."

"Time for what?"

"Drawing."

I pulled up the closest rug, allowing Sam to paint a good Devil's trap underneath. I flattened the rug back out. It was almost as if the moment I did, Jo got the lights. I kept the gun at my side. All we could do was wait now.

We didn't have to for very long. He walked in mutely. I could admit he was perhaps the best-dressed demon I'd ever encountered. His overall appearance didn't really intimidate me much. His eyes were dark pits, and I wasn't talking about his natural demon eyes.

"It's Crowley, right?" Sam got the conversation started.

"So." My ears picked up on the English accent instantly. "The Hardy Boys finally found me, and you've brought a friend. Took you long enough."

I kept my anticipation at bay as Crowley came for us at a cautious walk. I cursed under my breath when he stopped just before the rug. I closed my eyes, realizing I had missed a spot when flattening out the rug. The red of the Devil's trap showed on the floor.

"Do you have any idea how much this rug cost?" Crowley snarled.

I yelped as the gun I had was smacked out of my hand, and I was grabbed by both arms. Sam and Dean had a guard each. I kicked at my captor's legs, but he wasn't buckling. It was a time like this that made me wish I'd kept the heels on. I hissed and stopped struggling as my arms were stuck behind my back.

I swallowed as Crowley pulled out a gun, the Colt I assumed.

"This is it, right?" he said. "This is what it's all about."

I wriggled as the demon aimed the gun at Dean. He was going to take us all out, one by one. I wonder if he'd go down the line, or skip over me and take out Sam once he was done with Dean.

Shots were fired, but Dean survived. Our captors didn't. Crowley took out all three of the demon guards, all head shots. I looked over my shoulder to see three fresh corpses. It wasn't surprising. We were bound to have a casualty somewhere in this.

"We need to talk," said Crowley. "Privately."

Supposedly, privately included me as well. Crowley didn't say a word as I followed him and the brothers into another room. It almost looked like an office, sort of, with a huge desk, dormant fireplace.

"What the hell is this?" Dean demanded.

"Do you know how deep I could have buried this thing?"

I cringed as the door slammed shut behind us. No way out unless we wanted to break the nearest window.

"There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists, except that I told you."

"You told us," I said disbelievingly.

"Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine."

"Why?" Sam asked. "Why tell us anything?"

I took a step back as the Colt was aimed straight at me. "I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

I cocked my head. Was I hearing this right? A demon, someone who would be considered a friend to Lucifer, wanted him dead? Is there a catch to this?

"Uh-huh, okay," said Dean skeptically, "and why exactly would you want the Devil dead?"

"It's called"—Crowley put the gun down, I relaxed—"survival. Well, I forgot you two at best are functioning morons—"

"You're functioning...morons..."

"Let me spit out a comeback next time, eh?" I whispered to Dean.

"Lucifer isn't a demon, remember?" Crowley reminded us. "He's an angel. An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus. If that's the way he feels about you, what can he think about us?"

"But he created you," said Sam.

"To him, we're just servants. Cannon fodder. If Lucifer manages to exterminate humankind, we're next. So, help me, huh? Let's all go back to simpler, better times, back to when we could all follow our natures. I'm in sales, dammit! So what do you say if I give you this thing, and you go kill the Devil?"

Crowley held out the gun, handle first. We three looked at each other. Crowley, impatient, wiggled the gun in our faces. Sam was the brave one to reach out and take it.

"Great," he said.

"Great," Crowley repeated.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the Devil is, by chance, would you?" I asked.

"Thursday, birdies tell me, there's an appointment in Carthage, Missouri."

"Great." I didn't say it, Sam did. He put the barrel of the gun right between Crowley's eyes. We all heard the click, but no boom. No dead Crowley. I scowled. This demon wasn't stupid.

"Oh, yeah, right," Crowley said. "You'll probably need some more ammunition." The demon slunk off to his desk.

"Oh, uh, excuse me for asking, but aren't you kind of signing your death warrant?" asked Dean. "I mean, what happens to you if we go up against the Devil and lose?"

"Way to be pessimistic," I grumbled.

"Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway," said Crowley. "Two, after you leave here, I go on an extended vacation to all points nowhere. And three, how about you don't miss, okay! Morons!" He chucked something which Dean caught nimbly. The ammo for the Colt.

I sighed as Crowley disappeared. Angels and demons had their fun ways of leaving abruptly.

It looked like it was time to return to home base.

**So, yes, I skipped the Supernatural convention episode. Like the past few that I skipped over, I'd considered doing it. But for time purposes, I decided to cut it from the book. I tried to incorporate as many of the important episodes (that I deemed important, at least) into this book. The convention one didn't seem important enough, really.

Sooo, any fanart is encouraged!!**