[untitled] collaborative fic

Part 1- (Jamie Davieau)

A phone is ringing. Somehow there is a sense of urgency behind the stock ringtone, made even worse by how long it takes to be answered.

Crowley grins devilishly and takes his time picking it up, torturing the person on the other end. The bright digital screen reveals the caller to be "Not Moose".

Finally, he puts him out of his misery. "Dean. Long time. Not that you've probably noticed."

"Where is she, you sick son of a bitch?!" Dean spits from the other end of the line.

"Now now, no need to bring my mother into this," Crowley replies, stroking the steering wheel of the beautiful car he's sitting in. "Not that I disagree with the sentiment, of course--"

"I swear, if you hurt my Baby..."

Crowley's smile widens in pride. "I'm sure I haven't the foggiest what you mean," he insists, but before Dean can say anything, he revs the engine, taunting him. Dean is yelling something into the phone, but Crowley can't make it out over the loud rumbling of the old engine.

"The thing is, Squirrel, I've come to miss our little dates," Crowley went on. "We're long overdue, if I may be so bold. Fancy the drive in? I'll bring the car, of course."

"If there is so much as one scratch--"

"Please, I'm a demon, not the devil himself," Crowley replies. "Not yet, anyway. Promotion pending, red tape, you know how it is. So. Meet me at our special bar, you know the one. I've, shall we say, reserved the whole place just for us." He absentmindedly wipes a rogue drop of blood onto the passenger seat. "Oh, and come alone. No double dates. We don't need your angel getting in the way of rekindling what we once had." With that, he hangs up the phone without waiting for a reply.

--------------------

Back at the bunker, Dean is seething. "I'm gonna kill him," he mumbles to no one in particular.

Dean has a choice to make. Does he:

1. Follow Crowley's instructions and make his way to the bar alone; or     (go to part 2A)

2. Take Sam and/or Cas along for backup?    (go to part 2B)