SPOILERS SEASON 8!

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You were warned.

Previously on Supernatural

Band of Brothers"? "The Pacific"? None of this means anything to you All those motels, you never once watched HBO, not once? "Girls"? You're my Marnie, Moose. And Hannah - she just -she needs to be loved. She deserves it. Don't we all - you, me - we deserve to be loved. I deserve to be loved! I just want to be loved."

"What?"

"Would it be possible, Moose... I'd like... to ask you a-a favor, Sam. Earlier, when you were confessing back there... what did you say? I only ask because, given my history... it raises the question... Where do I start to even look for forgiveness? I mean..."

"How about we start with this?"

Sam raised the syringe filled with blood and Crowley hung his head. If this was the beginning to the path of forgiveness than so be it. Tilting his head to the side he allowed Sam unimpeded access to his neck.

Crowley POV

"Sam stop, don't do this!"

"I have to finish this."

"This is killing you. You're going to die if you don't stop now!"

"If that's what it takes."

Crowley watched as Sam sliced the knife across his palm and walked closer.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus."

"What about your brother," Crowley pleaded. "Dean needs you!"

"Hanc animam redintegra, lustra!"

"Damn it Sam, I can't be responsible for your death. Not now! Please don't do this!"

Dean POV

The Impala slid into the courtyard sending rocks flying in all directions. Shoving the gearshift into park he flung the door open and raced to the church. The only thought in his head was to save Sammy before it was too late. As he reached the door Dean grabbed the handle and yanked but the door refused to budge.

"Sammy," Dean yelled banging on the door.

Please don't let it be too late, he thought. Backing up Dean got a running start and smashed into the door shoulder first. The door didn't budge. He repeated the process again and again desperate to get to his brother. A loud crack caught his attention and Dean quickly glanced up at the noise. A large chunk of stone had dislodged and was plummeting down straight for him. Dean dove out of the way just barely in time to avoid being crushed. Shards of the stone still peppered him when it collided with the ground.

Crowley POV

The building began collapsing. Frantic Crowley glanced down at Sam. Sam had been hit by a piece of the collapsing ceiling moments before and hadn't moved since. There was just enough play in the chains binding his wrists to grab one of Sam's arms. Sliding his hands down Sam's arm he finally got to the wrist and checked for a pulse. Sam was alive; barely. He had to do some thing if they were going to keep it that way. Crowley reversed direction and started back up Sam's arm. When he reached the shoulder Crowley pulled until he somehow managed to get Sam's head into his lap. Glancing back to the ceiling Crowley watched as another chunk broke off and start to fall straight for them. Shifting he covered Sam as much as he could. The debris caught Crowley on his left shoulder and slid down his back. Crowley cried out in pain but didn't move. He didn't dare. If any of the falling debris hit Sam it could kill him. Gritting his teeth Crowley continued doing what little he could to protect Sam.

When the door to the church burst open he had just enough leeway to tilt his head without leaving Sam too unprotected. Dean. There was a brief moment where Crowley felt relieved that the older Winchester was finally here. The moment lasted all of two seconds before the look on Dean's face had Crowley instantly concerned for his own well being.

"Crowley," Dean growled.

Another chunk of the ceiling broke off and fell hitting Crowley square on the back and knocking the wind out of his lungs. Bloody hell that hurt, Crowley raged internally. Just as he was beginning to get his breath back Dean was there. Gripping the back of his shirt Dean threw Crowley backward. As he landed hard on the ground Crowley felt the back of the chair dig into his spine painfully. A steady ringing noise now assaulted his ears along with the sounds of the abandoned church crumbling around them. Before he could regain his bearings Dean suddenly appeared. Flinching backward Crowley had just enough time to realize he wasn't going to be able to avoid Dean's fist seconds before it collided with his face.

.

Groaning, Crowley winced in pain. Damn everything hurt. Blinking several times he tried to banish the darkness but the blackness persisted. Am I blind? He blinked a few more times but nothing changed. A persistent rumble caused his head to throb painfully. Groaning again he tried to sit up. There was a metallic clang as his head connected painfully with some thing solid. Cursing he reached up to rub his injured head only to realize some thing was preventing him from moving his arms too far. Carefully he tested the resistance. The shackles, he remembered suddenly. The church. Dean. Sam. What happened after Dean had arrived? Was Sam alright?

Suddenly Crowley was thrown sideways and his back collided painfully with some thing hard. The rumbling stopped and there was a slamming noise that sounded suspiciously like a car door. The Impala, Crowley realized. Reaching out he ran his hands over anything he could find. The trunk, he thought, I'm in the trunk of the Impala. That meant one of the Winchesters had to be okay didn't it? There was only the three of them at the church. If someone had thrown him in the trunk and driven off in the Impala one of the brothers had to be alright, right? A second car door slammed. Crowley reached up and beat on the inside of the trunk.

"Hey! Hey, open up! Sam? Dean?"

"Quiet, or I'll let you rot in there."

Dean, Crowley thought.

"Where's Sam? How is he? You got him out of the-"

"I swear if you don't shut up I'll kill you right now. I have more important things than you to worry about right now. Keep your mouth shut and maybe I'll let you out later. For now I better not hear another sound out of you. Do you understand me?"

"But you got Sam right?" He had know. He couldn't stand the thought that Sam hadn't made it out of the church. There had been two car doors he reminded himself. Two car doors meant both of the brothers made it out of the church didn't it?

"I don't have time for this right now. If you don't want to die than you'll shut your mouth. If you can keep quiet maybe I'll let you out of there later."

Crowley waited but there was only silence. "Dean?" No response. "Dean?" Still no response. Damn damn and damn. Suddenly the trunk popped open. Crowley winced and jerked backward away from the brightness that burned his eyes. Cautiously he cracked one eye open in time to see Dean reaching down with a strip of duct tape. Dean secured the duct tape over Crowley's mouth before Crowley had a chance to ask anything. There was no sign of Sam anywhere. Crowley yelled against the duct tape but the scream came out as a muffled "Mmph." Dean slammed the trunk shut and darkness descended again.

Bloody hell, Crowley thought. If Sam was injured... No, the Winchesters weren't that easy to kill. Sam was fine, he told himself. And you care why, some small part inside of him asked. Closing his eyes Crowley tried to shut out that voice. I care, he reassured himself. Sam shouldn't have sacrificed himself for me. I wasn't worth it. You're still not worth it, the voice persisted. Shut up he raged back at the voice. The people you've killed? Tortured? You really think you deserve to be saved? Shut up!

.

Hours or years, he didn't know. The only thing Crowley was sure of was that being left alone with nothing except his own thoughts was pure torture. He would do anything to get a break from the internal monologue running through his mind. He was so intent on trying to shut out the voice that he jumped in surprise when someone banged on the trunk.

"Crowley, listen up, you son of a bitch. One for yes, two for no. You alive?"

Dean? Still no Sam. Was Sam alright? He needed Sam to be alright so that he could take steps to make up for everything. Please let him be alright, he pleaded.

"Come on, don't be a pouter."

Reaching up Crowley banged his fists once against the inside of the trunk and waited.

"There we go."

Crowley waited as patiently as he could to see what Dean wanted.

"You prayed?"

Crowley frowned in confusion at the new voice and pressed his head closer to the metal trying to hear better.

"Yeah for help," Dean replied.

"You'll be helping me."

For a second there was only silence. What the hell, Crowley wondered. Some thing slammed against the top of the trunk and Crowley jerked back away from the noise. His head bouced off the bottom of the trunk painfully. Shaking his head he tried to focus.

"If you lie to me Dean Winchester I will rip your throat out. Where is Castiel?"

"Who's asking?"

"Try every angel that was ejected from their home."

Angels? This is bad. Not that angel business was ever good but this sounded worse than normal.

"Oh, well in that case I have no clue."

There was more banging against the trunk. Crowley racked his mind for the best course of action. Logic dictated that it was better to stay quiet and wait for the inevitable outcome. Some thing else inside, vying for his attention, was telling him he couldn't let anything happen to Dean. If Sam was alive he needed Dean, if Sam wasn't alive Crowley needed to make amends. Hell, he needed to make amends no matter what. Everything he had done to those two?

"Easy there, brother. This young man has prayed for our assistance. Are we creatures of wrath or compassion? I would argue the latter."

Crowley's frown deepened at the newest voice. Just what the bloody hell was going on out there?

"Forgive me, brother. I don't recognize you," replied the first stranger.

"Happy to make your re-acquaintance. After you disarm," stated the newest arrival.

There was a muffled noise that sounded suspiciously like someone punching someone.

"Come, now. Is that any way to treat a brother injured in the fall," the newest arrival asked.

Damn it, Crowley cursed. Whatever the hell was happening it didn't sound like this was going to end well. Bound in the trunk there wasn't much he could do to help. The muted sounds of fighting reached his ears. All Crowley could do was hope Dean would be alright when everything was said and done. The fight didn't last more than a minute or two before silence reigned again. Crowley was torn between beating on the trunk to get someone's attention and remaining quiet. Fuck it, he thought finally. Grasping his hands together he prepared to strike the trunk when he hear someone speak.

"Who are you?"

Crowley let out a sigh of relief. At least Dean was still alive. For now.

"Never mind me. You're Dean Winchester. I heard your prayer, and I am here to help."

There was another brief spate of silence before the trunk opened. Crowley squinted against the brightness.

"Mmm... Mmph-"

"Shut it Crowley," Dean ordered. "I don't have time to deal with you."

Dean gripped one of Crowley's shoulders and rolled him forward. Crowley winced in pain as Dean's fingers dug into the bruises on his shoulder. His face pressed against the bottom of the trunk reopening the cuts. Dean shoved him back and Crowley barely managed to get a glimpse of the strange container in Dean's hands before the trunk was slammed shut once again.

Fucking hell! First no Sam and now angels. Things just kept getting better and better didn't they? And what makes you think you deserve better? Crowley shut his eyes against the pain those words brought. He had given up on trying to argue with the voice. No matter how painful it was he knew he deserved this. Confined in this small space with nothing aside from some inner voice pointing out all of his flaws. Actually, Crowley thought bitterly, it was probably better than he deserved.

Sam POV

God his head was killing him. A bright light passed across his eyelids causing Sam to squint. After the light finally passed Sam blinked a few times trying to clear the sleep out of his eyes. The Impala? Glancing sideways he took in his brother. Dean seemed focused on the road but there was some thing else. Dean's expression was set in the the one he always wore when he was worried. Shifting in his seat Sam finally spoke.

"Where are we?"

"Sam?"

"What?"

"Okay, take it easy. How you feeling?"

"Tired. Like... Like I slept for a week."

"Well, try a day. You've been out since the sky was spittin' angels."

"What the hell happened," Sam asked as he turned to face his brother more directly.

"What do you remember?"

"The church, feeling like crap, the angels falling, and that's it."

"But you're feeling good?"

"Yeah. I mean, I just... Wait, you've been driving around with me passed out in the passenger's seat for a day?"

"Oh, I stopped, you know, let a few Japanese tourists take some pictures. Nobody got too handsy. I knew you'd pull through. I meant what I said at the church. You're capable of anything, Sam, and hell if you didn't prove me right."

"Good. 'Cause we got work to do."

.

Sam eyed his brother who was currently laying on top of a picnic table. Dean was worried about some thing, there was no doubt about that. There was no point in asking though. Dean wouldn't talk unless he was ready. Sam was just going to have to wait until his brother was ready to discuss whatever was troubling him. Shaking his head Sam walked over and sat down at the table.

"So, what, Cas is human?"

Dean sighed heavily and sat up. "Ish. I mean, he's got no Grace, no wings, no... harp, whatever the hell else he had."

"Okay. Where'd he crash-land?"

"Called me from a pay phone from Longmont, Colorado. I told him just to make for the bunker."

"You think he can handle a road trip like that?"

"Cas is a big boy," Dean answered with a shrug. "Things go Breaking Bad, he knows our number. Right now we got bigger worries."

"The fallen angels?"

"Yeah. I mean, thanks to Metatron, we now have a couple of thousand confused loose nukes walking around down here."

"What do you think they're gonna do?"

"I got no damn clue."

"What about Crowley," Sam asked. "You, uh..." He trailed off and subtly mimed a slicing motion. There was no one else at the park right now but it didn't pay to take unnecessary chances.

"I would've loved nothing better than to ice that limey bitch. But then I thought to myself, what would Sam Winchester do?"

"I'd have stabbed him in the brain," Sam replied.

"Oh. Well, I figured the King of Hell might know a few things, so why not Zero Dark Thirty his ass?"

Sam frowned at that revelation. When Dean stood Sam followed him to the Impala.

"Wait, so Crowley is... alive?"

Dean opened the Impala's trunk. Sam stared down at Crowley still shackled, now with duct tape on his mouth, crammed into the Impala's trunk. For a moment Sam could have sworn he saw some thing in Crowley's eyes. Relief? Sam shook his head to clear it.

"Oh yeah. He's the junk in my trunk," Dean joked.

For some reason the sight of Crowley bound and effectively gagged in the trunk of the Impala didn't make him feel as good as he thought it would.

Crowley POV

Crowley stumbled for what seemed like the hundredth time. Okay, so the blindfold he could almost understand. The earmuffs? Not so much. What did they think he was going to do if he could hear? A thought crossed his mind. What if the ear protection was so they could discuss how they were going to repay him for everything he had done to them? This time when he stumbled it didn't have anything to do with the terrain.

Hands firmly grasped his upper arms and kept him from falling. Crowley reminded himself whatever they did to him he deserved it. He probably deserved worse than anything they would do to him. Neither of the brothers were the type to torture just for the sake of inflicting pain. That thought should have given him some comfort but somehow it failed. Some part deep inside insisted that he deserved it, deserved the pain. If he could do nothing else to atone, perhaps this small penance would count for some thing.

The hands moved to his shoulders and pulled him to a stop. Sam's hands, Crowley thought. He didn't know how he was so sure when it had been Dean who had placed the bag over his over his head and put the earmuffs over his ears. Maybe it was because Sam was taller, Crowley reasoned. The hands rested on his shoulders easily, though Crowley knew either brother would be prepared if he tried anything. He almost shook his head at the thought. If they only knew how much he regretted the things he'd done they would know he wouldn't try to flee whatever was coming. After some time the hands gripped his shoulders and directed him forward slowly.

.

When the bag was pulled off of his head Crowley wasn't too surprised to see Dean as well as Sam. There had been two sets of footsteps following him on their way down. Raising his head he made eye contact with Dean and waited for the inevitable. Dean reached up and ripped off the duct tape covering Crowley's mouth.

"Owww," Crowley exclaimed as he winced against the sting. As the pain faded he turned his head back to face Dean. Before he could meet the elder Winchester's eyes Dean punched him.

"Never get tired of doing that," Dean informed him.

Bloody hell that hurt. Deciding it was in his better interest Crowley focused his eyes on the table instead of trying to meet Dean's eyes again. Meeting Sam's eyes was out of the question for reasons Crowley still couldn't understand. It was enough to know Sam was alright. Remaining still Crowley let his eyes slide closed. Whatever was going to happen would happen. He didn't need to see what was coming before hand.

"Alright, here's how it's gonna go. You're giving us the name of every demon on earth, and the people they're possessing," Sam stated bluntly.

In retrospect he should have expected that they would get straight to demon business. The request its self was completely doable, however he wasn't sure he wanted to part with that information just yet. Part of him wanted to comply immediately. Yet another part of him insisted that he ignore the request and make some snarky retort. Crowley struggled trying to decide how to respond.

"I saw you break down, Crowley; when I was trying to cure you. I know a part of you was human again, maybe still is," Sam said quietly.

If you only knew, Crowley thought. Still, Sam's quiet voice comforted him. God, how long has it been since you've felt comforted? Frowning Crowley tried to understand why that even mattered. A loud bang in front of him jarred Crowley out of his thoughts. Opening his eyes Crowley noted the paper and crayon now in front of him. Seriously? Just what did they think he would do with a proper writing utensil? He couldn't help but shake his head.

"Oh you're giving us their names," Dean insisted.

Crowley opened his mouth to protest that he hadn't meant he wouldn't give the names before he realized he hadn't really decided he would give them either. He began to shake his head again but stopped himself. Without moving his head he finally lifted his eyes to meet Sam's. As Crowley watched Sam raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. Crowley dropped his gaze back to the paper.

"If.. If I do this..." Crowley struggled, trying to get the words out.

"No deals Crowley," Dean growled.

"No," Crowley whispered. "I don't want to make a deal."

When a hand settled on his shoulder Crowley jumped. Turning he suddenly found himself looking up at Sam once again. Sam's eyes were curious, which was understandable, but there was some thing else in them. Compassion? Unable to stand it Crowley shifted uncomfortably and dropped his eyes back to the paper on the table in front of him.

"If I do this," he began again, "will it help?"

"Help," Sam asked.

"Yeah help. You know, help make up... for..." Crowley shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. "Make up for some of what I've done," he finished in a rush. God he hated being weak. He had promised himself centuries ago he would never be weak again. Being weak got you hurt or killed. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Hey?"

Sam's voice was quiet. Too quiet, too comforting; too nice. Crowley shook his head again without opening his eyes. "Just answer. Please?"

There was a brief moment of silence. Crowley could just imagine Sam and Dean staring at him with looks of pity.

"It's a start," Sam said finally.

Crowley merely nodded absently.

.

Sam POV

"You're not seriously buying this are you?"

"I don't know Dean. You weren't there, you didn't see him."

"Are you serious? This is Crowley Sammy, King of Hell, remember?"

"I know who he is Dean. I'm just saying you weren't there. Something happened."

"Yeah, apparently he brainwashed you."

Sam ran a hand through his hair and stared at his brother.

"He's a demon Sam. Demons lie."

"I know," Sam snapped defensively. Dean was right, still he couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened in that church. That Crowley had changed somehow. Crowley's words echoed through Sam's mind once again. 'I deserve to be loved! I just want to be loved.' "You're probably right," he finally admitted.

"I know I am," Dean insisted. "Damn it." Dean let out a sigh before continuing. "Do you know what found when I arrive? You, bloody and unconscious. You were inside the Devil's Trap with Crowley and he was leaning over you like he was getting ready to kill you."

Unable to take the intensity in his brothers eyes Sam looked away.

"I don't even want to think about what would have happened if I hadn't gotten there when I did. If he had killed you..."

"I know Dean," Sam huffed exasperated.

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"They why are you taking up for him," Dean asked.

"I'm not," Sam insisted.

"Sure as hell sounds like you are."

"You know what? I'm too tired for this. If you want to talk about this later, fine. Right now I'm going to go lay down."

Sam stalked down the hall away from his brother. Some thing had happened in the church, he knew it. He just didn't know precisely what had happened. Until he could sort through everything there was no point in arguing with Dean. Dean was going to believe whatever he wanted. Reaching his bedroom Sam opened the door, entered the room and slammed the door shut behind himself.

"Fuck," he cursed as he ran a hand through his hair.

Crowley POV

At least the lights were on. Generally speaking Crowley didn't have any issues with the dark. If he had, being a demon would have cured them centuries ago. The big reason he was grateful for the lights was that it helped to reassure him when the voice would return to torment him. It was much better being able to see the world around him when the voice taunted him than it was being lost in a dark void. It's nothing, Crowley reassured himself, just some kind of residual affect from the blood injections.

Crowley stared at the paper in front of him. Had he really agreed to give up the identities and where abouts of all the demons posessing humans? What the hell was he thinking? That blood must have gotten to him more than he realized. Sam's blood, Crowley thought with a frown. Subconsciously he rubbed at the side of his neck as he remembered the events that led him here.

'Your demon ass is going to be a mortal ass pretty damn quick.'

'You're the third trial, Crowley.'

'And Hannah, she just, she needs to be loved I deserve to be loved!'

"I just want to be loved," whispered Crowley.

He still wasn't sure if he had actually known what he was saying at the church. Did he want to be loved? What exactly was love? It seemed that he had known what love was once, many years ago. How many years, he wondered. How many years has it been since I lost what it means to love or be loved? How many years has it been since I've even cared about love at all? The answer was simple. Too many.