Cursed {Dean Winchester 5}

Chapter 28

Abandon All Hope

Cas had found Crowley and his house, though he couldn't get in. So that's what led us to where we were now. Millie and Jo were walking toward the front gates, saying they had broke down and needed help. Two demons were lured to the front gate to let them in.

Taking the opportunity, we slipped inside. I stabbed the one in the back of the next as Sam killed the other.

"Nice work, ladies." Dean told them both.

"Thanks." Jo replied.

"I was expecting something more exciting, but sure. But I look hot so it's fine." Millie tugged at the hem of the navy blue dress that ended just above her knee and hugged her figure. "Phase two, anyone?"

"Let's do it." I breathe.

Sam moved back toward us, hand brushing Millie's side as he slipped by her. "Does your ego ever take the day off?"

"Never." Millie replied.

_____

Jo and Millie cut the power from outside while we snuck in. We stood in the dark hallway as a man with brown hair walked out of another room. He wore a suit, all black.

"It's Crowley, right?" Sam asked.

"So the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew finally found me." Crowley said, a British accent coating his words. "Took you long enough." He began moving closer, down the hall and toward us. 

He stopped though, eyes landing on a corner of the rug that was bunched up. Crap. He bent down, lifting the rug to find a devil's trap painted on the bottom. 

Crowley dropped the rug, standing. "Do you have any idea how much this rug costs?"

Suddenly, hands were on my arms, pulling them behind my back, knocking the knife in my hand to the floor. Sam, Dean and I were all being held back by demons as Crowley lifted the Colt. 

"This is it, right?" He asked. "This is what it's all about." He raised the Colt, aiming in Dean's direction. He shot. Once, twice, three times.

The demons dropped to the floor, dead. 

"We need to talk." Crowley said. "Privately." He turned, leading us down a hall and into a office.

"What the hell is this?" Dean asked. 

"Do you know how deep I could've buried this thing?" Crowley asked, flicking a wrist, making the door slide shut behind us. "There's no reason you or anyone should know this even exists at all. Except that I told you."

"You told us?" Sam asked. 

"Are you insinuating you played us into being here?" I added.

"Rumors, innuendo, sent out on the grapevine." Crowley lifted his shoulders in a shrug. 

"Why?" Sam asked. "Why tell us anything?"

Crowley raised the Colt, pointing it at Dean's head. "I want you to take this thing to Lucifer and empty it into his face."

"Uh-huh." Dean hummed. "Okay, and why exactly would you want the devil dead?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, placing the gun on the desk he stood behind. "It's called survival. But I forgot you three, at best, are functional morons."

"Hey, you're functioning morons." Dean replied, voice growing uncertain as the sentence ended. "Mor--"

I patted his shoulder.

"Lucifer isn't a demon, remember? He's an angel." Crowley stated. "An angel famous for his hatred of humankind. To him, you're just filthy bags of pus." He picked up a glass of liquor. "That's the way he feels about you. What can he think about us?"