Song Remains the Same

Chapter 103: Sister Sister

"One thing I've learnt about humans: you can't judge their strength by the size of their actions,
but by the devotion of an act, no matter how small."
- Dianna Hardy

A Few Moments Ago

Alex became cognizant slowly, her hearing the first sense to return. There were blurred male voices speaking nearby and she remembered looking for apples for that Emily girl last before...

Wait, what happened?

As consciousness grew, she began to feel a dull pain in her head which quickly became a splitting headache that was threatening to tear her skull in half. She groaned and tried to move a hand to press it against her forehead, then found her arms were stuck to her sides and would not move. She tried to open her mouth and found her lips sealed in place. Immediately, her breathing quickened in alarm from the knowledge that something was very wrong. As her eyes opened and the world tilted sickeningly, Alex realized she wasn't laying down like she'd thought. Completely disoriented, she realized that she was sitting up on an all-white couch and her arms were duct-taped to her sides, her ankles were bound the same way, and her mouth was taped shut too as her head lolled onto her shoulder.

Slowly, she lifted her head with a sore neck and saw that she was definitely no longer in the drab motel room she'd been in before. Now, she was in some bright and sleekly appointed office space with modern art pieces dotting the white and gray interior. Her heart began to beat faster and faster. Nearby the sources of the two male voices lounged in expensive looking chairs and when she saw the men, she recognized them and withered immediately.

"Ah! Look who's finally up!" Dick Roman boomed, grinning at her with sly eyes. "Sleeping beauty."

Crowley turned slightly to glance at her over his shoulder. He held a glass tumbler of some dark amber liquid and he smiled slightly at her and raised the glass. "Hello darling," he said. "You look breathtaking as always." His sarcastic smirk and lazy air of entitlement made her skin crawl with foreboding. "But you'll have to just hang on a tic. The big boys are in a business meeting." He turned back to Dick.

"Anyway, back to the arrangement," the Leviathan said, leaning forward intently. "America's ours, Canada's yours. Your sales team stays off my turf—period. That's not up for negotiation. We need America. They're so... fat." The way he said that word was stomach-turning, like he was salivating at the thought.

"And in exchange?" the King of Hell asked. He sounded cautious. "I do what?"

Dick reached into his immaculately tailored suit pocket with a flourish and produced a small glass vial of thick red blood. "Here we have the blood of one sadly unimpressive demon in New Jersey," Dick said, a wicked smile playing on his mouth. "All I ask is that you give it to Frick and Frack, tell them it's yours, stand back, and let them come to me." He handed the vial to Crowley and then glanced at Alex. "As soon as they find out what I have of theirs, they're set to come running, and with no time to double-check the blood's authenticity... well, let's just say it ends badly for the boys while I'm sitting pretty."

There was a long pause and Crowley eyed the vial of blood for a moment. "I can't deny I long to see those two digested once and for all..." he admitted in a murmur. Behind Crowley, unable to do anything but stiffen and clench her fists, Alex watched while praying to god Crowley wouldn't do this. Sam and Dean would walk right into a trap and Dick would obliterate them. "You have a deal," Crowley murmured, and Alex was terrified as he pocketed the vial. "I suppose you want it in writing?"

"I don't kiss on the mouth," Dick said through a devilish little smile.

"Good news for Miss Winchester, I suppose," Crowley said silkily, wiggling his eyebrows just once. "Well, never fear. I just so happen to have a standard rider..." he fished around inside his suit jacket and produced an ancient-looking parchment scroll, "right here." With a graceful flick of the wrist, the scroll unfurled down and onto the floor. It was probably about six or seven feet long all in all and Dick looked positively unenthused at the length document. "I do so like this part," Crowley commented softly, a playful gleam in his eye. "Don't you? One might call the fine print torture. I prefer to call it foreplay." His sinful smile grew, and Dick returned the smile in kind.