WHY, HELLO. So yeah, this is my first Supernatural fanfic, so here's to hoping the first chapter turns out alright. I've been pretty excited to write about it all day today. I don't plan on making a big story out of it, just making it into a few (SEXY) chapters. Yayayayayayayayayyaa! This chapter will be lots of talking, but it's setting up for the ending.

Story Description: This story takes place during the angel civil war. Castiel becomes desperate to win, even if it means selling his soul (or whatever he has left) to the crossroads demon himself. However, one of them adds a dangerous detail into the finer print.

WARNING: I seriously plan on making an explicit man on man action scene in the near future; I don't think we see enough hardcore sexy time going on. Soooo if you're squeamish about man on man action, then don't bother reading. Like fur real, hardcore sexy time. Yeah you get it. I wonder if Misha Collins and gang will stumble upon this…awwwkwaaard.

Sam flipped through yet another page of the dusty old book, his eyes furiously scanned each page for what he needed. The pages were nearly falling off the old thing, and if they did, they landed right in the garbage. Sam and Dean had no time to waste putting it back together. Sam was seated at Bobby's desk, a half empty glass of rum near his hand in case of emergency.

"How do we even know this will work?" Dean asked casually, expecting a half ass answer. He was becoming increasingly irritated. He stood over his little brother's shoulders, arms folded across his chest. The two of them had been searching for a way to summon Michael from the depths of hell: they were only trying to save their half-brother, really. Michael himself gave them little to no interest.

"We don't, Dean." Sam replied quickly. Just as Dean guessed: A half assed answer. Sam took a gulp of his 'emergency' drink and set it back in the same spot. "But anything is worth a shot. He's our family."

"Yeah." He almost sounded sarcastic.

"Yeah?" Sam repeated as he twisted his body to glance back at Dean, his eyebrows furrowed. He won't stand for his pessimistic attitude all of a sudden, especially after all the research they've gone through. "We're the reason he's in this mess. Or did you forget all of that?"

"Look," Dean opened his arms in a gesture, "all I'm saying is that I think we're playing with the wrong league. I mean, what are the chances we'll actually find a summoning spell for that kind of thing? We've been at it for a week, give it a break already. We have other work to do."

"Right, other work." Sam gave a fake smile to his brother. "Sleeping with hookers and drinking yourself into oblivion doesn't count as work."

"First off, they're not hookers. I don't pay for them." Dean said in his own defense.

"But you pay for their drinks, and in exchange, you expect something."

"Shut up. Get your nose back in that book."

"I'm just saying."

"Well no one asked for your opinion." Dean finished it. Ah, brotherly love. "And if you keep messing around, we're never going to find-"

"Right here!" Sam interrupted with excitement, pressing a finger to a middle page.

"What?" Dean, suddenly intrigued, forced his way in, now hovering over the book himself.

"Here. Apparently we can summon his soul back, just not his physical state." He paused before continuing, "Why don't we just ask Cass for help?"

"Forget it. Feather-ass is too busy for us right now. Either we take this into our own hands or it doesn't happen at all." It was apparent that the mere reminder of Cass made him tense. Dean of course understands the importance of the war, but would it really kill the A-hole to fly down and help them really quick? "Is there anything else on it?" His eyes scanned the pages, but he couldn't process the information as fast as Sam could. What a nerdy little genius his brother was.

Sam peeked at the next page, which proved to be nothing useful to them. He shook his head, peering up at his brother, as if he might have a better solution. "What good is a soul without anywhere for it to go." It was more of a statement rather than a question.

"We'll find someone else." His voice rose before Sam could butt in. "I'm talking we can find someone who just recently passed away and, well, use their body for a while."

There was nothing but silence.

"Then we'd need a transferring spell." Sam responded as-matter-of-factly. He set his head against the book, groaning as his head came in contact with the vintage papers. He could practically smell the age of the ink from these pages.

More silence.

"Well, then, God damn it." Dean shouted, throwing an arm up in the air. He pushed Sam's head off the book as he squinted to read the small printed ingredients. He set his eyes on a peculiar one, one that stood out from the rest. "How the hell do we obtain an essence of an angel's innocence anyways? The hell does that mean? Is it an object?"

Sam lifted his head, his bangs raffled and out of place. He was far too tired to care about one of his best features, especially with only his brother around. He could only offer a shrug in response.

Dean continued, "Apparently it needs to be obtained before God's eyes. This riddle is getting ridiculous." Dean slammed his hand on the book, looking around the room as he shook his head.

"Oh thank God, I thought you'd never get around to saying the bloody thing."

Dean and Sam both whipped their heads at the source of the voice. Sam nearly shot up from his chair from the sudden intrusion; it was more startling than anything. They met their gaze with Crowley, the infamous crossroads demon. The demon stepped from underneath the doorway, his hands casually resting in his pockets. He gave them a shy shrug before adding, "You have no idea how bored I was listening to you two yap."

"In case you demons aren't aware, you can't just 'zap' in whenever you please. Use the damn door; we have it for a reason." Dead snapped back at him. The boys were used to angels and demons popping in at random moments, but Crowley was a different a story. He only brought bad news to the table.

Crowley pressed his lips together in a tight line, taking a few steps closer to the boys, yet keeping a safe distance. "Jeez, touchy. You boys aren't glad to see me?" His brows rose as he spoke and his question almost sounded sincere.

"Cut to the chase. What do you mean you were listening to us? For what reason?" Dean asked suspiciously, afraid he already knew the answer.

"The ingredients, you numbskull. It's the ingredients. You see," With a swipe of his hand, he closed the book from across the room, sending particles of dust flying, "demons can't look into a sort of book like that. No, not when it's branded by angels. So I just waited for a couple of intelligent humans (he may have exaggerated at this point) to read it out loud. Think of it as if you were just telling me a bedtime story."

"You planted the book for us?" Sam ignored his superiority complexed attitude.

"Aren't I clever? Thank you two, though, I sincerely mean it. You've helped me a lot."

The brothers took a few seconds to glance at each other, baffled that neither of them saw this coming. They were always a step ahead of the game. Dean decided to break the silence. "Who says we're going to finish reading off the instructions?"

"You bloody idiot, I know how to do it, I just couldn't remember the last ingredient." Crowley took this time to examine a picture on the wall, one with Bobby, Sam and Dean on some sort of fishing trip. He reached over and fixed the frame to make it even on the wall, almost as if to accommodate for using them in this fashion.

Dean leaned himself against the desk, keeping a careful eye on Crowley. They've already lost the game; he just needs to find a way to twist it back around. "So you won, big deal." He played it off cool. "Where do you expect to find an essence of an angel's innocence, anyways?" He could feel Sam giving him a strange look. They both knew Dean didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

Crowley took the bait. "Just as you would normally take away someone's innocence. Think about it." He raised a finger into the air in front of his face before continuing. "Except I need an angel's."

The brothers knew all too much of the evil in this world to completely understand what Crowley was talking about. They wouldn't guess Crowley would stoop so low, but he is a demon, after all.

"So you need a virgin angel?" Sam thought out loud.

"Correct!"

"Well I'm sure there are plenty of horny, angelic women up in heaven. Go get 'em, tiger." Dean couldn't help but break out a bit of sarcasm.

"Bollocks. I don't necessarily swing that way, boys." The brothers didn't act surprised. The demon forces men to kiss him to seal a deal, anyways. "Hey." He took a few steps closer to Dean, his voice softer now than ever. "Isn't your friend Castiel still around?"

A fiery rage built up quickly within Dean, faster than an adrenaline rush. He could feel his own face becoming hotter as he reached out and grabbed Crowley by the scruff of his shirt, pulling him in. His voice was loud with anger, and he spoke in the most threatening tone he could muster. "You touch a single feather on Cass and I swear I'll-"

Then, Crowley was gone, he simply just vanished. Sam and Dean looked around the room for him.

"Crowley!"

"You see, it needs to be taken from an angel on earth. And Castiel is incredibly weak from this war. Not to mention the guy's desperate to win." Crowley reappeared in the corner of the room, behind the boys. He was only there for a few seconds before he had to leave again. Dean threw the book at him, sending papers flying through the air.

Crowley appeared in the kitchen, but he spoke loudly so the boys could hear him, "And it needs to be done in a church." He continued as he opened the fridge, peeking around for something to eat. "My oh my, how much I wouldn't mind for Castiel. I can see why you're friends with him. So handsome, so loyal and obedient-"

This time it was Sam who threw something at the demon, except he probably shouldn't have. He picked up the nearest object, which was the nearly empty glass of rum, and whipped it at Crowley. He only managed to hit the fridge, which sent the glass shattering into hundreds of pieces all over the floor.

"Come on, Sam! Who's going to clean that up? Seriously?" Dean yelled at him, his rage still burning within.

Sam didn't know what to say, he stammered a bit. He couldn't even manage to say that he was trying to help. The boys looked around the room, still, no Crowley. Dean checked back in the study room and still found nothing.

"What do we do, now?" Sam asked quietly, as if hoping to somehow calm down his brother. "Dean?" Dean didn't seem to hear him, or he did and he chose to ignore him. Dean ran his fingers through his hair in a frustrating gesture, not making eye contact with Sam.

"Dean." Sam repeated with a louder and quicker tone as he grabbed Dean's shoulder, twisting the older man around to face him. He meant to snap him back to reality.

"We find Cass." Dean started before making a slight pause, "And we find a way to keep him here, with us."

Review? Thoughts? Opinioooons? Please and thank you…!