The Start of Everything

"Oh, I didn't expect to see you today," I exclaimed, a warm smile blooming on my face. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

I set my book down as I stood, meeting my husband half way with an innocent peck on the lips.

"I'll be staying indefinitely," he said idly, leading me towards the small bar in our living room with his hand at the small of my back, clearly itching to get his precious fix of Craig. He poured us both a glass and savoured his first sip as he spoke. "Contracts to review and incompetent morons to manage, business as usual, really."

"It's not easy being king," I soothed, my voice infused with just the easy kind of sympathy that I knew he would appreciate. "You deserve a break."

A wicked grin stole over his features, his fingers brushing over a sliver of skin between my shirt and my pyjama shorts.

"Trying to butter me up, darling?" He asked silkily, stirring his glass idly as he watched me with dark eyes. "You know you don't need any tricks to get me into bed."

Five years since we'd met and been subsequently married and he still delighted in attempting to corrupt my supposedly incorruptible soul. He might not have succeeded yet in that undertaking, but he'd definitely taught me a thing or two about temptation (par the course, I supposed, when you had a demonic lover) and the tone of promise in his voice made me feel warm all over.

He had once told me that be became a demon by selling his soul as a human for three inches more in, ahem, length and that kind of devotion to sex had certainly carried through to his present self. I thought it was rather ironic; my husband selling his soul for sex and me selling my soul for marriage. I'd been a sixteen going on seventeen year old virgin in a pretty crazy situation and the first and best solution I had come up with in regards to my circumstances (and that aching, aching loneliness) had been to get married. And not to just anyone, either.

So, I went to a crossroads and summoned a demon. My soul and limited knowledge of the future in exchange for a husband of great wealth who would be kind and generous, even if only to me, and exceed human limitation to keep me happy and was powerful enough keep me safe from any threat, supernatural or otherwise, that might put me at risk.

I offered my soul for ten years of wedded bliss, and foreknowledge to sweeten the pot a little bit. I mean, I'd suddenly appeared in this world and was promptly attacked by a frickin vampire and was rescued before being turned by a hunter I immediately recognised as Gordon Walker from Supernatural. Being suddenly transported to another world with no social security number or driver's license was horrible. My brand new phone didn't even work. I had to do something.

Summoning a crossroads demon is really difficult. You need your own picture, graveyard dirt, and the bone of a black cat (or, apparently, the milk of a black cow, which was the route I went down) to do it. Adding on to that, you need a crossroads you can bury something in the centre of, no concrete, basically, that has yarrow flowers planted around it. A tall order for someone with no money and suddenly de-aged to a teenager.

(Yeah, that iPhone X I'd just spent half a pay check on? Not compatible with the year 2004.)

Gordon, for all that he was a total hard-ass hunter in the show, was nice enough to see to it that I got home safely after he slew the nest of vampires that had taken me hostage. And by 'got home safely' I mean that after I hammed up the whole amnesia act, he called 911 and, due to me having regressed to the age I had been in 2004, attempts were made to find my parents and when that didn't happen, I was taken into the system. Luck and probably some kind of divine intervention was on my side, and, apparently being an 'absolute sweetheart' through no intentional effort of my own, I got adopted directly before being taken to a foster home.

My temporary foster home, thankfully, had internet access and my foster parents were very pleasant and got me hooked up with a library card. Looking up how to summon a crossroads demon was pretty simple with that kind of access; and when I found instructions that said the milk of a black cow could be substituted for the much harder to acquire bone of a black cat, I decided to try that first.

It worked.

I summoned Crowley himself with the bait of foreknowledge and the curiosity of a human asking for him specifically. I asked him for my dream husband and, since I'd made it a point to specify that he should surpass human limitation and be powerful to protect me from all supernatural and non-supernatural threats, it followed that Crowley, being the most powerful being he himself could command and wanting what foreknowledge I was offering for himself, stepped up to the role.

He took care of things with my foster family by posing as my uncle come to take guardianship of me and then, rather horrifically, we were promptly wed in a church by a priest with documents falsifying permission from my non-existent parents. I didn't care; I'd been a twenty-nine-going-on-thirty year old virgin shut-in trapped in her teenage body (and my teenage body had been stout despite my height of 5'7" even then with an only slightly better metabolism, so it wasn't even that great an 'upgrade'), and thusly wasn't fussed about age differences or such.

Well, a little. My husband had indulged me in waiting until I'd reached the age of consent before consummating our marriage because I was horrified at the idea of sleeping with someone physically old enough to be my father at age 16. He indulged me in everything, though.

I wasn't in love with him per se, and I knew he certainly wasn't anything as maudlin as 'in love' with me, but married life suited us perfectly.

I didn't care who he slept with as long as he didn't bring me diseases and, after turning my world upside down while cheerfully deflowering me, he made sure that I never felt neglected or unwanted.

"You know," I said when I'd caught my breath when we were done, my dark hair fanned out over the pillow as I lay there, chest heaving under the thin sheet with exertion. "You never finished your drink."

A short laugh escaped him.

"I was preoccupied."

I was terribly fond of him. Not in love with him, no, but I had lived with him for five years and that's a long time to learn someone, for you to learn each other. To become attached.

"Do you want dinner, honey?" I asked, a snicker working its way up my throat at how he made a face at the endearment.

"Only if it's your cooking, sweetheart," he returned sarcastically – it was funny hearing the saccharine endearment coming from my handsome devil's mouth.

He looked over at me with mild interest, the same mild interest that usually preceded-

"It's the same," he murmured, a sharp look of amusement cutting across his face.

-him telling me that. Always 'it's the same.' My pure, pure soul. Pure despite my selling it, despite giving into temptation and sleeping with a demon. (Sleeping with a demon a lot). A constant object of fascination for him, the purest soul he had ever seen (according to him), somehow resisting even the most damning methods of corruption.

"I suppose," I started thoughtfully, the corner of my mouth turning up in a cheeky smirk, "we'll just have to try again, then, won't we?"

The rest of the week passed in a similarly delicious manner and then the fucking Winchesters broke into our house.

"…to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

I'd woken up to the commotion and decided to find Crowley to figure out what was going on. Well, I found him, alright. And he wasn't alone.

"I'm sorry," I blurted out, self-consciously crossing my arms over my chest uncomfortably because, well, I'd gone in search of my husband in my pyjamas – and a comfortable v-neck sleep shirt with no bra and soft cotton shorts were hardly appropriate for company. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

It was very evident that I was interrupting, if the flash of annoyance on my husband's face was any indicator, and I cringed – not so much because of Crowley's irritation, but rather because suddenly everyone in the room was looking at me and I really, really wished I'd put on a robe or something.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean Winchester demanded, like I was Satan himself parading around in pyjamas.

My cheeks flushed and not because of my state of dress.

"Annie," Crowley said in warning, but I didn't care.

Dean Winchester in the flesh. Wow. I hadn't seen him since I'd started binge watching from season one before I'd been body-swapped with my teenage self from the show's timeline. Talk about a sight for sore eyes.

"Hi," I said, going for a winsome smile and probably failing.

I looked helplessly at Crowley because I wasn't sure what to do.

"She's-" He stopped and then let loose a sharp sigh of irritation. "Hardy Boys, meet my wife."

Stupefied silence followed despite my vague recollection of the episode I had literally walked into telling me that there should have been a little more urgency going on. Or that there had been, before I'd interrupted.

"What?" Sam asked after a moment, as though trying to wrap his head around it. "What?"

"Hi," I offered shyly, wishing I was closer to Crowley so I could hide behind him a little.

He looked from me to the Winchesters, his lips narrowing. He looked back.

"Do you still want to take that trip to rescue your flying monkey in distress?" He asked, eyeing me shrewdly.

I knew exactly what he was talking about but didn't understand why-

Oh.

"Yes," I said very quietly, wishing I could just crumple in on myself until nothing was left.

"Right then," Crowley said, clapping his hands together with energy he'd been lacking. "How about this, boys: I will give you the Colt and you will introduce it to Lucifer's face, and as a gesture of good will I will give you my wife as insurance."

I nearly choked. Nearly.

"In exchange, you will make very well sure that nothing happens to her – and I mean nothing, or Lucifer will be the last of your worries."

Without giving them a chance to reply, really, he turned to me with a look that brooked no argument-

"Go on, darling, pack a bag quickly – don't forget to take your jewellery."

I nodded in confirmation. I certainly wouldn't be forgetting them. My wedding band and my engagement ring were both spelled – the wedding band shielded me from demonic possession and my engagement ring prevented me from being found by angels.

(That had been an add-on after the fact – a necessary one.)

Wearing both on the same finger enabled me to summon Crowley by saying his name. The best way to fulfil our deal – protection at a moment's notice if necessary.

"Yes," I supplied immediately, eager to get the fuck out of there and throw on a jacket or something. "Yes, I'll do that."

"Quickly," he reminded me over the start of the questioning. "Our guests won't be staying long."

I took his advice and fled.

Leaving with the Winchesters was… different. I was so used to making short trips out at my leisure or leaving with Crowley that I didn't know what to do with myself as Dean threw my bag in the trunk, clearly tense, and Sam tried to smooth things over by making some easy conversation.

"So, um, you and Crowley," he began, clearing his throat as Dean started the car, ready to take us god knows where. "How did that happen?"

I shifted uncomfortably where I was sitting in the backseat.

"I, um, I was in a really bad position in my life." Not a lie or stretching of the truth by any means. "I was all alone and had nowhere to go and no one to care for me so… Well, then I was attacked by vampires, you know? A hunter saved me, but I was terrified of something like that happening again. I mean, finding out monsters are real would terrify anyone. So I did my research and did what I could to make sure I would never be in danger again and not be alone anymore to boot."

Sam blinked.

"Wait, wait, wait," Dean said, surprising me because I hadn't thought he would comment though I knew he would listen out of suspicion at least. "You're telling me… you summoned a crossroads demon for what, a relationship?"

I shrugged, but wasn't quite able to look him in the eye.

"I asked for a husband capable of protecting me from any threat and providing for me and keeping me happy," I expanded, making a few vague hand motions as I went. "Seeing as Crowley can't exactly rope someone stronger than him into fulfilling our deal, it made the most sense for him to be that guy."

Dean glanced back at me in the rear-view mirror as he drove, his expression incredulous.

"So, what, you sold your soul for Mr. Right and got a demon instead?" He asked, making me cringe awkwardly. "How long do you have left?"

My heart skipped a beat in the worst way.

"Listen…" I started, swallowing. "Have you ever been alone in the world? With nothing and no one? And – and you have this huge responsibility on your shoulders that you don't know what to do with? I needed someone to be there and I needed protection. I mean the first thing that I remember is getting attacked by a vampire and being saved by a hunter named Gordon. I was scared and I needed help. So I went to the one source I knew would guarantee it."

Dean looked away angrily, clearly not convinced.

"How old are you – Mary, right?" Sam asked, and I fought the urge to duck my head and look away at the way he said it.

"You can call me Anne or Annie, most people do," I told him, and then added, "I'm twenty-one. I'll be twenty-two in September."

Same exchanged a look with Dean, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"How old were you when you, uh, met your – met Crowley?" Dean asked with false lightness.

I really wished we could just move on before I found some way to sink into the seats forever.

"Sixteen, almost seventeen," I offered up reluctantly. "Anyway, where are we going? I know Crowley said I'm not to go on any hunts with you, but I know a lot of stuff – like foreknowledge stuff – so I can give you a heads up about stuff that's coming. There's just one little thing I need your help with…"

They didn't answer me then, probably thinking all manner of awful things about how I must have fallen prey to Crowley's bad influence or some such… I was busy trying to figure out what would happen next.

It wasn't until later, when I was stiffly asked to take a picture of everyone that I realised, abruptly, what was coming.

"You can't," I insisted, a very clear tremor in my voice. "Ellen, Jo, I know this sounds crazy for someone you've just met, but you can't go. You'll both die."

They didn't believe me.

"Please, Castiel, tell them I'm not a threat. I'm human, I'm not a trick, and anyway Crowley will die if you guys don't manage to kill Lucifer, there's really nothing in it for me. I just don't want Jo and Ellen to die. I don't – I don't know if Sam and Dean will make it out alive without Jo and Ellen anyway."

I told them what I knew, everything, keeping out that the Colt wouldn't kill Lucifer because I didn't want them to think Crowley was trying to trick them, that I was trying to trick them.

They did not take it well.

"Look, you did your best, okay?" Jo said, looking scared and angry. "You warned us. If we don't come back you can tell Sam and Dean 'I told you so!'"

"Jo," Ellen began, reproving-

"There are hundreds of thousands of people out there depending on us, even if they don't know it." Jo continued, ignoring her mom's attempt at getting her to just let it go. "We're hunters. Every time we take on a case we look death in the eye, and this time is no different. So just keep your fortune-teller crap to yourself and let us do our jobs, okay?"

I admired Jo. I did. She was beautiful and fierce and brave – braver still because she was scared but determined to barrel forward anyway – and some part of me wished, in that moment, that I was half as brave or fierce or beautiful as her.

The rest of me, the greater part, that had only just met her and new she would not be coming back, that was the part that, when she was done talking, started to cry.

Not sobs, just watery eyes, tears spilling over as I turned on my heel and fled to the bathroom.

I tried to warn them. I did.

They left Bobby's house, Ellen and Jo and Sam and Dean, and Ellen and Jo didn't come back.

My stay at Bobby's after that was… received with mixed feelings. No wonder, I supposed. I was a demon's wife. Hardly trustworthy. Castiel, though – on the rare occasion on which he was there, I tended to gravitate towards him without truly realising it. There was something about him I couldn't put my finger on, but I trusted him. He'd been the only one to warm up to me, sometimes looking at me with a vaguely perplexed expression, but he clearly trusted me.

There had been something about him from the moment I met him, and it was a comfort to me whenever he did show up.

"How did a girl like you get mixed up in all this?" Bobby asked me one day (after days of silence because even though I had warned them, I was the girl that could have saved Ellen and Jo and didn't).

"I sold my soul to a demon. So that I wouldn't be alone. So that I could try to make a difference," I replied numbly, making busy in the kitchen because Bobby really needed to watch what he ate. "I was attacked by a vampire. Of course I was terrified. And then… well, another run in with the supernatural after I made the deal really cemented the idea that I'd made the right choice."

I was quaking in my boots at the thought of meeting 'Loki' again – I wasn't sure what had happened there but as soon as I'd had the chance to slip away from the out of character trickster, I'd summoned my husband to the women's restroom for a quick escape. I wanted to save Gabriel. I knew that he didn't technically die, but I wanted to save him from everything that would come after for him.

Even if I had to brave him face to face to do it.

"Making deals with demons, kid," Bobby said, sounding a little sad and a little sympathetic. "That's no way to live."

I shrugged.

"I did my homework, worded everything to avoid loopholes. I'm happy. Crowley's fond of me, in as much as a demon can be fond of someone." I could tell he didn't believe me but I knew more about Crowley than Crowley himself knew I knew about him. "If it wasn't for the deal I would have been shunted from foster home to foster home until I was spit out into the world with no prospects for the future and no family to rely on. I know – believe me, I know – what hell is like. But the risk of someone finding out what I know and doing horrible things with that knowledge was too dangerous."

He was silent for a moment.

"How long do you have left?"

I didn't cringe. I didn't.

"Five years," I offered quietly, lightly, as though saying something that wasn't going to hang in the air between us until it was buried by a multitude of other things. I heard his sharp intake of breath over the sound of the water washing away the bubbles the soap had made while I washed the pot I'd used to make the stew. "It's alright. I'll do my best to end the apocalypse and what I know will die with me."

His expression was so full of pity that, despite still thinking I'd made a good deal, for a moment I almost felt a keen sense of loss at my own impending demise. I was terrified of hell. But that would come later.

"You're alright," he told me after several minutes of stretching silence. "You're a good kid, Mary Anne Matthews."

"Thank you, sir," I said, and for the first time since I'd arrived smiled free and clear and happy. "You're alright, too."

We got along much better after that, Bobby and I. Got along so well that Sam and then Dean warmed up to me, just from seeing how comfortable Bobby was around me. So, life at Bobby's improved. I missed Crowley. I was surprised at how much I missed Crowley. But it was easier staying with people that weren't deeply suspicious and constantly on guard around me, and the more they warmed up to me the more comfortable I got.

And then all of Apocalypse shit started going crazy and Dean was locked in Bobby's panic room and I knew that was my time to act so when they left, I gave Bobby a great big hug and a kiss on the cheek because I didn't know if I would be coming back (if I died, would it void my deal with Crowley since the terms included him protecting me?) and left in the Impala to save Adam.

This time, they listened. Unfortunately, I didn't have anything good to say.

They left me in a motel near the green room where Adam was being kept. I waited and prayed to Chuck (and wasn't a funny twist, praying to God that I knew 100% existed after selling my soul to a demon) that everything would work out, then they came back without Adam as I knew they would, and the three of us drove on.

And that, essentially, was how I found myself in my current predicament.

I had been separated from Sam and Dean. Thrown into the appetizer fridge along with some other random people intended to be pagan god snacks.

"Oh my god, we're all going to die," a woman wailed behind me, or maybe a man with a girly voice.

Sam and Dean were going to find us, I knew. But…

"We'll be fine," I tried unsuccessfully to offer comfort to her, "I have friends here. They'll come for us and get us the hell out of here."

Of course – I didn't know that. I thought they would, but this was the first time I had actually been at an event I'd tried to change.

I looked around at the terrified people around me – the way I had been thrown in, screaming for Sam and Dean, had set them all off. I wondered if they would still be saved. If we wouldn't be grabbed before Sam and Dean could come to get me.

I wondered a lot of things as I sat there, drawing my knees to my chest wishing I was back at Bobby's house, back at the mansion with Crowley. I wished I hadn't come. I didn't even know how the hell I was supposed to convince Gabriel in the limited window of opportunity I would have. Unless-

He could hear prayers. He didn't answer them, but…

I fingered my engagement ring thoughtfully as I stood, glancing at the people behind me, and thought very hard about Gabriel and what would happen if I tried to summon him. I thought about him, about the way he looked when I met him and he introduced himself as Loki… and then, as though driven by an external force, I slipped the ring off and closed my eyes very tight-

Gabriel. The word itself, even just as a thought, felt heavy enough to crush me to nothing under the weight of the world. Gabriel, Loki, Trickster, whichever name is least offensive to you. I have information for you, please just listen, I-

"You ditched me."

I opened my eyes and felt my breath catch in my throat at what stood before me. His wings – the last time I had seen him I hadn't been able to actually see them and now-

They were liquid gold formed in elegant, falling lines. Softly glowing, glimmering where the light touched them like the sun refracting off of a pool of the clearest, sweetest water. Wings. The wings of an archangel.

"How do they not know you're you?" I breathed, tearing my gaze away from his wings to meet his eyes and regretting it.

They were darker, troubled, not the intense someone-is-getting-smote colour they had been when I'd met him and barely escaped – no, his eyes were dark, and at my comment, grew darker still.

"What?" He asked, brow furrowing.

It was like it was only the two of us, no one else.

"Your wings," I whispered, barely registering what I was doing. I was only just self-aware enough to try to keep my voice down around the other people. "How can anyone miss them? They're-"

I tried hard to fight the urge to shiver.

"They're beautiful."

I cleared my throat awkwardly, trying to look anywhere but at his eyes, they were like flame, like molten gold, intense, blazing.

"I'm sorry. That's not why I called you here," I told him seriously. "Gabriel… you cannot fight your brother. If you do, actually dying would be kinder than what will happen to you in the future."

He blinked.

"What?" He asked, his voice cracking in a way that would have been endearing had the situation not been so dire. "Sorry, what?"

"I know things. Things that I shouldn't know, that haven't happened, that will." I was losing confidence by the second. "I wanted to warn you. So that you don't die… or worse."

"You… know the future," he stated slowly, drawing out each syllable as though trying to make sure we were on the same page. "You know the future and… you ditched me?"

Somehow, I didn't think we were on the same page at all.

"Please don't smite me," I requested with false calmness. I didn't think he would just kill me like it was nothing now, not at least knowing I was trying to save his life, but he'd been so unlike what I'd remembered from the show in that moment that I was convinced he wanted to end me.

"Smite you?" He parroted, looking taken aback. "Sweetheart, I think we're having some real communication issues here. You know the future but you somehow still thought I was going to smite you when we met – so you ditched me by pretending to go to the bathroom and dropped off the radar until now. Am I getting it right so far?"

I shifted my weight from foot to foot unsurely.

"Yes…?" I confirmed tentatively, trying to judge where he was going by his expression and failing. "I don't see what knowing stuff about the future has to do with it, though."

Somehow, he looked even more puzzled.

"Where do you see yourself in ten years, sweet-cheeks?" He asked calmly, patiently, as though we had all the time in the world and then, only then, did I realise the world around us, the people, were frozen. As though we had stepped outside the realm of time.

In ten years, I would be in hell. Not that I was going to tell an archangel that.

"I just came here to warn you," I told him carefully, studiously ignoring what he'd asked me as I kept an eye on his reaction. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I just want to go home, that's all. I don't want to go against you. Just to warn you."

He looked so lost a part of me I didn't know existed wanted to reach out and comfort him, to run my fingers through the sleek, soft looking feathers of his wings and promise him that I just wanted to help him. Well, I could do the latter, at least.

"I swear," I told him, willing him to believe me. "I just want to help you. That's all."

"Hey, hey," he said, his hands coming up as though in surrender even as his voice took on a more soothing note. "It's okay. I believe you, sugar. I believe you. And I swear to Dad I'm not planning to smite you anytime soon, okay? If you know about me then you know I only go for the high and mighty types. Mooks that really have it coming."

I laughed a little despite myself. Something about him set me at ease in a way only Crowley's presence was able to after so long together. Which was odd, because I didn't really know him but I figured it was just a Gabriel thing, sort of.

"You don't see anything regarding your own future, do you?" He asked after a moment, the look on my face no doubt giving away the truth. "That explains a lot."

He sighed.

"We don't really have time to get into all of this, kiddo, much as I'd like to just grab you and get the heck outta here, but I'm kind of tied up in the middle of something right now."

"Me too, Sam and Dean are my ride back to where I'm staying right now." I said easily, feeling more and more comfortable by the minute.

"Those two muttonheads?" He asked incredulously. "You're here with them?"

I cracked a grin at him, feeling so warmed by his presence that I felt somehow lighter.

"They're not that bad once they warm up to you." Even if that takes a while because they look at you like you're the Bride of Chucky. "They're kind of like my temporary guardians right now. Sort of. I've spent most of my time under Bobby's care though. Um, do you remember him?"

"Trucker hat, beard, tried to stake me?" Gabriel asked, eyebrows raised.

"That's the one," I confirmed, feeling bubbly for some reason. "He's really rather nice once you get past the gruff exterior thing."

Gabriel's wings were like a canopy of molten gold around us, warm and inviting.

"I'm sure," he said, and for a moment I had the strangest thought that he looked almost fond. "All right, sweet cheeks, this is how this is going to go. First, I am going to get you outta here. Then, I'm going to rescue Sasquatch and Dean-o, and then you and I are going to have a little chat, okay?"

I didn't realise he'd gotten so close until his arm pulled me into him and we disappeared with a snap.

The leaves were moving – it was the first thing I noticed when I looked around the parking lot outside. Time was moving again. We were no longer in his little pause bubble.

"Gabriel – promise me you won't fight Lucifer." The words left my mouth in a rush, desperate like I was standing on the edge of some great precipice and didn't know what would come. "Please. Promise me. Just leave if it comes to that. Please."

"I can't just let him kill them, sugar," he says almost apologetically.

My heart stuttered.

"I understand," I told him, I did, but… "I just… promise me you'll get out. That you won't get distracted and end up – just get out as quickly as you can."

Where this sense of urgency was coming from I didn't know, but it was distinct and tugged sharply at some centre of feeling I didn't know I had.

"Cross my heart and swear to die," he said cheekily, and then paused. "You got some way of getting back without us? It would be safer than staying here."

I considered it for a moment. I wanted to stay – maybe to watch this all play out, to make sure Gabriel was fine. Especially since I knew it was after this that he got… taken. But I hadn't been home in so long.

"Don't trust Loki. Don't let anyone use your grace. If you confront Lucifer and fake your death, you'll wish you had died," I warned him, my heart aching at the thought of what I knew could happen to him. "Take care of yourself, Gabriel. And tell Sam and Dean that I went home."

He nodded seriously and-

And left me stupefied in the parking lot wondering if I had only imagined the brush of his lips against my temple.

Shaking the (blasphemous?) thought away, I put my engagement ring back on the same finger that bore my wedding band, resetting the spell that would allow me to contact my husband in a manner similar to praying to an angel.

Crowley? If you're not busy, I could use a ride home. I thought, anticipation building at the thought of seeing him again. I'd missed him, more than I'd thought I would despite being so sure of how fond of him I was. Operation Save the Flying Monkey is a success, I think.

"Let's get you out of here, then," he said behind me, and I whirled around in surprise before throwing my arms around his neck.

"I missed you," I told him, not expecting the words back. "It feels like I haven't seen you in months."

An enigmatic smirk was my only answer – and then his hand was on the small of my back and we were gone.

Gabriel teleported the Winchesters, car and all, back to the other guy's place they informed him the girl (Mary Anne, he thought, her name was Mary Anne), was staying at. Bobby's place, they stressed, seeming rather irked at his dismissive attitude right before he snapped his fingers and they were suddenly right outside the house.

She had dropped completely off the radar again. There and then suddenly nothing. Thankfully, he had thought, he knew where she was this time. Except that, apparently, he didn't.

When he repeated her message to the Winchesters, their faces cleared. 'Going home,' she had said. They didn't seem to like it, but they obviously thought her safe enough where she was.

Gabriel was not a happy camper when he found out precisely where she went and with whom, although Sam wisely kept mum about the why.

"Crowley? What's wrong?" I asked, pulling the sheet up over my chest as I looked at him in confusion. "Are you alright?"

He'd stopped. In the middle of – well, point being he'd stopped.

"It's different," he said, shocking me completely. There was only one thing he could be talking about, after all.

My soul… was different? I wasn't sure how to feel about that. Its purity for lack of a better word had been a kind of comfort and source of pride for me once I'd realised that it was somehow resisting the taint of having sold it to a demon and committing what was probably a variety of other sins under his influence. To hear that he had succeeded was – well, suddenly it was disheartening.

"Mary Anne," he said, his voice low and husky and teetering on the brink of anger. "Is there anything about yourself you neglected to mention when your contract was made? Anything at all?"

I blinked.

"No, of course not," I said earnestly, needing to him to believe me. Maybe I hadn't revealed the full extent of my knowledge but that wasn't what he was asking. "I told you everything about me, about my situation. What's wrong?"

He was elegant, my husband. Not someone to resort to base, physical menace when I could feel the considering, almost thoughtful look like a hand gripping, bruising the tender skin of my throat.

"It's no coincidence, darling, that your plan to rescue your overgrown pigeon goes off without a hitch and you come back with a soul that's near blinding," he said, his voice like ice, the hint of a snarl behind the words like the whisper of the Pit backing him. "With a soul blazing with an angel's grace."

I stared at him in horror.

"I don't-" I began, willing him to understand. "I don't know anything about that. I swear I don't. I only talked to him for like, five minutes tops."

"Honey," he said, "darling, sweetheart. Why do I have the feeling you're going to make me regret making a deal with you one day?"

I took in his dark eyes and dangerous expression and just-

"Never. I'll do whatever I have to to make sure you don't."

I wasn't sure how, or what was happening with my soul and Gabriel in the first place, but I didn't want Crowley to regret our deal. Anything else, just not – not that.

"See that you do," he murmured, and then lowered his mouth to mine and it was like I was selling my soul again, or something infinitely more precious this time.

I shivered at the sense of foreboding that trickled down my spine and then there was no room for thought, just me and him and falling over the edge. Only this time, something in me ached. Like there was something missing that hadn't been there before.

The thought was terrifying.

To be continued in Guardian Angel.