"Aren't we all Damaged?"
Being a Hybrid has its perks, but it also has its disadvantages. Abigael had been on both ends of those sticks, she's been on them for a while. But there was a fraction in the Demon world that would want her dead and another...
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Crowley directed Dean to an abandoned house that wasn't too far from our current location. It was Crowley's hovel, his place where he was hiding from every Demon, and Satan himself. He had a taste for luxury like I have, but this place was far from it. He really has hit his lowest point right now.
The Impala purrs to a stop, and the engine cuts off. We all exited the car, shutting the doors behind us. Crowley took the lead, and headed towards the front of the abandoned house. He pulled open the screen door, and then pushed open the run-down wood of the front door. One by one, we entered, Sam being the last one in.
"Here we are," Crowley began, his eyes scanning the filth of the home. "My life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen. Single-pane glass. Used contraception in the fireplace," Crowley's head snapped towards the fireplace, before he lifted his left hand up and the logs inside took flame. The wood began to burn away, giving off a small amount of warmth. "The water damage alone-" Crowley spun around to face us, as the words left his lips.
"My heart's bleeding for you," Dean, however, cuts him off before he could finish his sentence. "Now, how do you know about the rings?" Dean wanted to get straight to business.
"Well, now... I've been keeping a close eye on you lot,"
"We had hex bags. We're hidden from Demons," Sam states, knowing that they always carry hex bags with them.
"All but one," Crowley raised his index finger, before he pointed to himself. "That night you broke into my house, our first date. My valet hid a tracking device in your car – a magical coin that easily trump's your little bags of bones. It allows me to hear things, too – and, my, the things I've heard," his eyes glazed over Dean, and then to me, before they proceeded to flick back and forth. He then proceeds to chuckle at the fact that he knew that Dean and I slept together. "So you want to cram the Devil back in the box?" He went back to the conversation topic he wanted to talk about. He then clicks his tongue. "Cunning scheme. I want in," it was strange to hear this from Crowley, but he was one of those demons who would align themself with the winning side, so as to survive.
"You said you could get us Pestilence," Dean states, but Crowley inhales sharply, as I felt a 'but' coming.
"Well, now," he begins, turning on the spot to face away from us. "I don't know where Pestilence is... Per se." he took a few steps forward. "But I do know the demon who does," Crowley liked the dramatics, and so he turned back to face us with his hands deep in his pockets. "He's what you might call the Horsemen's stable boy. He handles their itineraries, their personal needs. He's who you want – believe me. He'll tell us where sneezy's at," Crowley explained who to go for.
"Well, how do we get him to spill? Rip out his toenails?" Dean questioned. A form of torture that wasn't unknown to me.
"No. Nuts at his pay grade don't crack. We bring him here, then I sell him,"
