Lucifer's angel

23

"Yea, I followed up. Nasty omens, but none of it's Death with a capital "d." Well, just give me a ring if it turns into anything. And, Rufus...You watch your ass out there." Bobby spoke on the phone.

"Chin up. Cavalry's arrived." Crowley drawled which was followed by the sound of Bobby cocking his revolver.

"Charming. That won't work on me. Name's Crowley. Maybe you've..." Crowley smirked.

"You're Crowley?" Bobby was obviously suspicious.

" In the flesh--of a moderately successful Literary Agent out of New York." Crowley spoke before being shot by Bobby, mostly because Bobby wanted to make sure.

"Aah! I see you have heard of me. I liked this suit." Crowley laughed softly.

"What are you doing here?" Bobby scowled.

"Looking out for Crowley." Crowley answered back.

"Meaning...?" Bobby clearly didn't see the connection.

"The boys are on to ring number 3, but we still need number 4. I'm here to help." Crowley spoke.

"You know where Death is?" Bobby shot.

"No. Haven't the foggiest." Crowley answered and in turn Bobby cocked his shotgun and aimed it at the demon.

"Well, then get the hell off my property before I blast you so full of rock salt, you crap margaritas." Bobby fired out, he really had a way with words.

"That's a mite unfriendly, seeing as I could be getting you Death's location in about the time it'd take you to reload." Crowley drawled.

"You're just gonna chat some demons up and hope they don't recognize you?" Bobby spoke.

"God, no. That could get me killed. But there is this little spell that I know." The demon answered.

"That so?" Bobby questioned.

"Results are 100% guaranteed." Crowley nodded.

"Okay. Then why are you snake-oiling me?" Bobby rose an eyebrow.

"Well, it's a little bit...embarrassing. There's this...technicality." Crowley winced.

"Uh-huh." Bobby was clearly clueless.

"I need a little something to get the magic going." Crowley sighed.

"And what's that?" Again, Bobby was clearly clueless.

"You make a wish. I can give you anything you want, mate -- Up to and including Death's coordinates. All I need is..." Crowley trailed off.

"My soul." Bobby finished.

"I've done more with less. Let's just say when they're getting their Grammys, they shouldn't all be thanking God. It's worth it, Bobby. Think." Crowley pushed.

"Okay. Here's my counter." Bobby spoke before shooting Crowley with the shotgun.

"Ow! Bloody hell! Feisty." Crowley growled.

"Get out." Bobby spoke, voice stern.

"I'll give it right back." Crowley offered.

"You think I'm a natural-born idjit?" Bobby nearly laughed.

"Quite the contrary. Look, you're right to be suspicious. But I'm your ally. Enemy of my enemy and all that. I need the devil back in his stock. In fact, my delicate ass depends on it. I promise you --temporary loan. I'll give it...Right...Back." Crowley purred.