Chapter 12

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Fury left with a flourish and one last glare to go deal with the shitstorm back at SHIELD, his long leather coat bustling behind him. Dean grimaced as he turned his attention back to Rogers, whose jaw jumped when their eyes met. "Alright, Dean, Sam. Please tell us everything we need to know about Crowley and Rowena."

"Well," Dean started, his voice a little rougher than usual after everything that happened that morning. The guilt from bringing Lucifer into SHIELD sat heavily on his empty stomach, but he forced himself to pay attention regardless. "Like all demons, he started off human. He was the King of the Crossroads until he took advantage of Lucifer being trapped in the Cage and became the King of Hell."

Sam nodded and continued for him. "He's unpredictable at best, and only acts in his own self interest. He allied himself with us when he thought we had a chance against Lucifer a few years ago, and he teamed up with Cas to get the power of Purgatory." He grit his teeth and looked away. "And Crowley's the reason Dean has the Mark in the first place. He knew what would happen, and made sure to keep us in the dark. Wanted Dean all to himself."

"Didn't do him any good," Dean snorted with more than a hint of self-deprecation. "Nobody wanted anything to do with me when I..." he hesitated, eyes roaming over the curious Avengers. "When I wasn't myself."

Rogers frowned, but encouraged them to go on with a flick of his wrist. "And Rowena?"

"Crowley's mother, actually." Sam told him with an air of amusement. "She's a Natural Witch from Scotland. Just like her son, she's as powerful as she is manipulative. Rowena's vicious when she goes after what she wants. Both her and Crowley latch onto anyone with power and influence. They'll probably love you guys, come to think of it."

From where he was standing with his arms crossed, short sleeves exposing the metal arm tucked underneath the flesh one, Barnes asked, " Why the hell would we want to work with people like that? If you don't trust them, then we certainly won't."

A flare of frustration had Dean suppressing a growl. His headache was back, and the throbbing in the base of his skull slowly increased with his temper. "Not shit, Sherlock," he snapped, ignoring the sharp glare he received in return. "I told you, we don't like this anymore than you do, but Lucifer is right. If we're restoring the Mark, then we need the First Blade and a witch who actually knows what she's doing. Can't go into this shit blind."

Steve hummed, looking like he was barely resisting the impulse to correct Dean's language, and took a deep breath. "Fine. Sam, go ahead and call them."

Sam's spine straightened with the order, and his face lit up with excitement. Dean rolled his eyes, ignoring his brother's embarrassing display of hero-worship. Sam excused himself and ducked out of the room.

It was quiet for all of three seconds before Stark snapped his fingers against the palm of his hand a few times, obviously unable to keep still. "Look, adding two newbies to the mix is fine and dandy, but none of this will actually matter if we can't actually find the Darkness, or Amara, or whatever the hell it is that you call her."

"You're right," Rogers agreed with a nod. "Why don't you, Peter, and Agent Coulson head down to your lab to see if you can locate her? I'll send Sam down once he's off the phone. We'll need to track her movements in order to set up a plan of attack."

At the mention of his name, the kid, Peter, (Dean swore that he was going to look up a few YouTube videos later to learn all of these superheroes and their names) flew onto his feet with a wide grin. Agent Coulson simply dipped his head in acknowledgement and led him towards the elevator.

"Thank God." Stark's shoulders slumped in relief and hurried towards the open elevator doors. He threw one last look at Rogers over his shoulder and called out, "Keep me updated!" Before they all disappeared from view.

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