Lucifer's angel

21

Dean ran into the elevator and pushed the buttons repeatedly with a pace that could only be described as panicked. 

"Dean, where are you going? We're just getting started!" The sounds of Brady's voice echoed off the halls.

Dean exited on ground floor and Brady appeared behind him, hitting him on the head. As usual, Dean had not been lucky. Dean stumbled with a low grunt.

"good meeting, Dean. You know, I'm excited." Brady spoke with a sneer. Crowley approached from behind, and dropped a sack covered in a devil's trap over Brady's head before bashing Brady's head with a crowbar.

"Evening, Uncle." Crowley spoke.

"What the hell was that?" Dean grumbled.

"That was perfect." Crowley spoke with a small grin forming on his lips.

"Perfect? He didn't want the rings. He wanted me." dean spoke with a hint of anger.

"Imagine the surprise on your face." Crowley smirked.

"What?" Dean spoke, eyebrow raised.

"Your ignorance and misinformation --I mean, completely authentic. You can't fake that. What? I-it went like clockwork." Crowley spoke with a slight chuckle.

"Not for me, you son of a bitch!" Dean growled.

"That's what you get --working with a demon." 

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"Hey, hot stuff, watch the upholstery!" Dean called, now in the impala with Crowley in the back seat, carving a sigil into brady's torso.

"Up yours, mate. This bit of carving will tie our friend here down. No zapping off, no smoking out --Locked in the meat suit...An important piece of our bargaining strategy. Now, up here, we don't want I-50. Take 93 north." Crowley spoke, finishing up.

"What are you talking about?" dean spoke, raising a brow in confusion. 

" Look, we can't take this guy back to your brother." Crowley spoke.

"Why the hell not? Crowley!" dean rose his voice.

"They got history, all right?" Crowley groaned softly as Dean angrily screeched the impala to a halt.

"You want to go anywhere, you start talking. What history?" Dean practically snarled.

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Sam sat on a bed waiting. He heard The Impala approaching and found Crowley to be downstairs.

"Where's Dean?" Sam asked.

"Now...For the record, I'm against this. Negotiating a high-level defection -- It's very delicate business." Crowley rambled, he wasn't ever one to get straight to the point. he liked to increase tension.

"What are you talking about?" Sam spoke, raising a brow.

"I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away...from you. He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my 'corn chute.'" Crowley continued, to which Sam replied with a soft scoff.

"So, go ahead. Go --ruin our last best hope. It's only the end of the world." Crowley finished, sarcasm practically dripping off his tongue.

Sam entered the room where Dean had Brady, still hooded and tied to a chair.

"Sam." Dean started.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam spoke with a hint of urgency. 

"I need you to stay on mission, okay? Focused." Dean spoke, tone soft.