Hey guys! So I'll be honest, I've been really caught up in college courses and multiple jobs so I haven't written anything in a very long time. I'm a bit rusty at this, so if it sucks, I apologize. But I'm gonna give it a shot, because you guys deserve it, and so does this story.

-Xero

Chapter 7

The King of Hell entered the room to see Cassie, half dressed, writhing on the floor as though she were having a seizure.

"Huh," he muttered to himself. "So... angels can have PTSD. Who would've thought?" He nudged her with his foot. "Wake up, Lizzie," he said softly, like he was rousing a slumbering child.

She whimpered in response, her teeth clenched, and her eyes misty with unshed tears, her whole body clenched tight in a ball.

Crowley furrowed his brow. None of this made sense. Cassandra was an angel, but she was exuding emotions, pain, trauma...these were all human attributes.

Angels weren't supposed to feel this at all. None of this.

He rolled his eyes. This wasn't going to work. He needed this white winged woman to be in one piece if she was gonna be of any use to him.

"I'm not asking," he said more firmly.

He didn't have time for this.

Crowley bent down on his knee to her level, pressing his thumb and pointer finger to her forehead.

Finally, her eyes cleared, and she snapped out of it.

She looked up at him, the echoes of battle and blood still in her gaze and she slowly rose to sitting position.

She was still in survival mode. Her eyes darted across the room, to a pair of jeans in a crumpled heap on the floor, completely ignoring Crowley's presence.

The Angel quickly darted over to them, clutching them like they were water jugs in a desert. "Turn around," she said, her voice low and her tone dangerous.

Crowley sighed, rolling his eyes, but did as he was told.

She had her skirt off and the jeans on in half a minute.

"We have business," He said, turning back around once he heard the ruffling of clothes stop. "I held up my end of the bargain, now it's your turn."

She was in a light blue blouse and jeans, barefoot, tying her hair back into a long braid. "Damn straight we do," she said, glaring at him. "You turned my brother's boyfriend into a demon."

Crowley held his hands up. "I didn't know they were an item," he said, his face the picture perfect image of "have mercy, I surrender."

"Bullshit," she spat, crossing her arms. "You turned Dean into your black-eyed bitch and now he's banging anything that moves."

Crowley smirked. "To be fair, he was doing that before any of this Mark of Cain business," he mumbled. "But let's focus on the positive. You're alive, and yourself, the only owner of that..." His eyes went up and down her body, but not in a sexual way, more like he was assessing the quality of an object, "property," he cleared his throat, "And your precious would-have-been-brother-in-law is alive, as opposed to six feet under."

She scoffed. "it's not like he hasn't been dead before. Dead I could've fixed."

"Except you didn't," Crowley pointed out, making her grit her teeth.

He noticed her tense up. "That's what's really got you smog in the nog, isn't it? That you did your best to save him and you couldn't?"

Cassie swallowed, balling up her fist. "Where is he?" She asked, changing the subject.

"Ah, that's where you come in, Love," he said. "I need you to fetch him for me. He's run off, and I need him to come back. See... in the absence of the rest of his posse," he began, stating to pace around the room, "he's blossomed as my partner. We're more iconic than Bonnie and Clyde. But Clyde can't be Clyde without his Bonnie, now can he?"

She scowled. "You aren't partners. He's hired muscle with trigger happy tendencies."

Crowley shrugged. "He's been quite useful to me as of late. Our arrangement was really working."

"Lies," she said immediately, shaking her head. "You're an idiot for thinking you had control over Dean Winchester at all in the first place. The worst thing you could've done was turn him into a demon. Now he's Dean Winchester, but without a moral code. Jeez, stopping the apocalypse turned out to be for nothing, because you just set loose a rabid dog that can't die."

Crowley was losing patience. Everything she was saying was right. He'd been a handful these past few months and putting up with him was turning out to be a higher price for his abilities than he'd been counting on. He had a customer who needed someone killed, and now he's run off to hell-knows-where, and he's short a piece on the board.

Just because Dean was a demon, that didn't make him any easier to handle.

In fact if anything it had just made him worse.

Cassie grew flushed in the face as a message on Angel Radio came through. The words were sinister as they echoed in her mind.

I have a mission for you.

It was Hannah's voice.

"Fetching him for you is going to be a little complicated," Cassie said, staring at the floor, looking defeated.

Crowley frowned, growing irritated. "And why is that, Lizzie?"

She bit her lip, letting out a sigh of disgruntlement. "Because I've just been ordered to kill him." She looked at him with an expression of now what do we do?

~.~

Dean twirled around Suan Ywe Gou in his left hand as he held the steering wheel with his right.

This blade had a lot of history.

It didn't belong in the hands of an Angel.

He didn't turn on any music, just zoned out to the sound of the pouring rain and the wind shield wipers as he drove. The rushing water and consistency of the sounds in the darkness blocked out anything he would have to deal with.

The First Blade and Cassie's Angel Blade were resting on the passenger seat, where Sam usually sat.

Or Cas.

Despite the fact he'd won that battle, Cassandra's words had gotten into his head.

My brother is DYING! Do you understand that, Dean?! Castiel, the man you love, is killing himself over you! And for what?

He'd been taking pleasure from that woman...Anne Marie...doing his best to enjoy his newfound freedom, but no matter how hard he tried, it just didn't do it for him. Not like...

He opened his phone, looking down.

He hadn't bothered to change the screensaver.

Castiel, his Angel, sprawled across Dean's pillows, sound asleep.

Surprisingly, despite being a demon, the image still tugged at his heart, reminding him of happier times.

Waking up with Castiel in his arms, the smell of his shampoo in that jet black hair, the scratch of his stubble when they nuzzled and kissed each other, the intense pleasure to the point it was almost painful...

Except they weren't happy. They'd been filled with stress and worry. About taking down enemies, keeping his loved ones safe, guilt and hurt when he failed to do so, the fights he'd had with Sam on the correct course of action to take, the casualties of this ongoing war between good and evil...

Now he didn't have to feel any of it. Not the pain, or guilt or misery that could only be dulled and numbed by alcohol while he was human. None of it.

Now he was a free man. With nothing but him, the first blade, on the road with his car –

Suddenly the phone vibrated in his hand. He was getting an incoming call.

From Sam.

He smirked. He wasn't at the Black Spur, so his brother was probably quite frustrated. He answered. "I left ya an open tab at the bar," he said, trying to be playful and brotherly, like old times. "Knock yourself out."

"Hell, I may just take you up on that," a voice with a slight southern drawl to it answered.

Despite himself, the hair on Dean's neck stood up. This wasn't Sam's voice. "Who is this?" He asked, keeping his voice calm. He was still on edge. He hadn't gotten to kill anything in a long time.

"Me?" The voice said. "Well, I'm Karma, brother."

None of this made sense. He'd never heard this voice before. Sure, there were people that wanted to get back at Dean Winchester for something. Hell, yes, But Dean was certain he'd never met this person before. "On my brother's phone," Dean pointed out.

"On your brother's phone," the man confirmed.

Dean was hella confused. "Is he dead?" He asked, trying to get a gist of the situation.

"No. Not yet. As long as you show up where I tell you to show up, your brother'll be just fine."

"How do I know he's still alive," Dean said, going through the motions of what you're supposed to do in a ransom situation, but for some reaosn he didn't feel it.

The anxiety or the fear cenching his heart at the idea of his brother being hurt or taken.

He felt...nothing.

That is, until he heard a loud bang and then outcries of pain and discomfort.

It was undoubtedly Sam's voice.

Dean's stomach hurt.

"Proof'a'life," the man said.

Dean heard Sam cry his name in the background. "DEAN!"

His tone was a warning. Even after ditching Sam, for months, letting him think he was dead, Sam still cared and wanted to keep him safe.

Away from the danger.

"Got a pen?"

Dean swallowed, now officially pissed.

Because this guy had Sam, he was expected to do what this guy says and obey.

Hell no. He just ran away from that load of bullcrap.

He wasn't gonna do squat. "Now you listen-ah-me," Dean said, getting fed up. "There's no trade. There's no meetup, there's no nothin'. Except the one hundred percent guarantee...that somewhere down the road," like maybe in a few miles, he thought to himself, "I will find you, and I will kill you."

He wanted to kill.

Badly.

Worse than he wanted to be laid.

If he could knock out two birds with one stone but killing an asshole, he could even be performing a public service. While also getting his rocks off.

Win-win.

"That'll be a coold comfort to your dead brother."

"I told him to let me go, so whatever jam he's in now, that is his problem."

"Yeah well I'll be sure to pass that onto I'm while I'm slittin' his throat," the man said, a pathetic last attempt to get Dean to give in.

But killing Sam right now wouldn't make any sense. If there's no hostage, there's no reason to meet up with him. Dean knew that.

This guy was trying reverse Psychology on a master of manipulation.

This was just not his day.

"Yeah, you do that," Dean continued in a light-hearted tone. And try that Psych 101 bullshit on someone else, he thought. "Cuz he knows me. And he knows damn sure that if I am one thing, I am a man of my word." He hung up.

Now to make a phone call.

He dialed Cassie.

~.~

Cassie fiddled with the end of her braid, restless as Crowley spoke.

"Well the answer is simple. You're not going to kill Dean."

Cassie glared. "You want me to disobey a direct order?"

Crowley gestured around for emphasis. "No. You want you to disobey a direct order. If we're being honest, you're not going to kill him. Hell, even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to. He just proved that."

She sighed, annoyed with the fact he was right.

And pissed that Dean added insult to injury by jacking her weapons.

"And if we're continuing down this path of honesty," he said, looking at her with logic and composure, "You're going to track him down of your own accord anyway. So while you're at it, you might as well bring him home." He gestured to the hell hole they currently resided in.

She stood with her shoulders back. "That's exactly what I intend to do," she said sternly.

Crowley smiled, as though he were trying to imply empathy. "Love, you can't bring him home to your brother in his current state. It would break his little Angel heart, and lord knows he's low on fuel as it is. This could be his ticket to the Derby, if you catch my drift."

She threw her hands up. "Well what's the alternative? Bringing him back to you? What did I just tell you? You don't have a hold on him either. Even if I brought him back, he'd just run off again. Right now he is a danger and a threat to everyone. Human, Demon, Angel, it doesn't matter. He's a liability."

Crowley raised an eyebrow in surprise. "So you do want to put him down? Like the rabid dog that he is," he said, throwing her words back at her.

"No," she said. "We only have one choice. I get him, meet up with Sam, bring him back to the bunker, and make him human again. It's our only option."

Crowley scowled. "You know even if you did that. That's just a temporary fix."

Cassie shrugged with confidence, knowing she's won. "It'll buy us time until we find a permanent solution. But he's of no use to you as he is now, and he sure as hell isn't of use to anyone dead."

Crowley grinned. "So you are going to disobey. My my, what a naughty little thing you are."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "That woman lost any hope of having my loyalty the second she put me in a damn pencil skirt."

Their conversation was cut off.

Cassie's phone started playing highway to hell by ACDC, more apt now than when she set that for Dean's ringtone.

"Bastard," she growled, answering it. "You took my blades, asshole."

"Sam's been kidnapped."