Cowboys and Angels

35. We Happy Few

Crowley spoke. "We can do this. Lucifer stole the throne, but his authority weakens the longer he's MIA." He addressed demons who were at a table holding printouts of graphs. "The time is ripe for a coup. That's why I brought you here." He began circling the table. "Together, we can reclaim the throne. Together, we can make Hell great again." The demons snickered, one more loudly. "Of course, I'll need your help recruiting others. When the numbers are in our favor, we'll strike, and each and every one of you will have earned a place at my side."

The giggling demon laughed even louder and the leader demon said, "Told you he'd do this."

"He? Do what."

"What you always do." Crowley's eyes narrowed. "Promise a return to Hell's former glory. Promises you never make good on. How about a run-down of your recent rule? First, you were Rowena's bitch."

"Then the Winchesters'," the giggling demon added.

"Then Amara's, then Lucifer's." The other seed demons exchanged amused glances. "A few weeks ago, you wee cleaning these floors," he looked up with a sneer, "with your tongue." The demons stood. "We could retake Hell. But why bother?" They began leaving. "The world's ending, and this time, Hell's ending with it."

Crowley was still standing at the table. The leader demon turned back as the others left around him and the leader demon continued. "Unless... you've got a plan to defeat the Darkness?" Crowley stared at him. "Then this is just more of the same." He bowed with a mocking flourish. "King Crowley's bad dinner theatre."

"If that's the way you feel, why did you show?" Crowley questioned.

"We wanted to see the monkey dance. One last time." He left.

Crowley stood pensively at the table.

INT. BUNKER - KITCHEN

Pancakes were being cooked on a griddle.

"Talk to him, her, whatever," Sam said.

Chuck, who was making pancakes, the Winchesters at the table behind him, replied, "Won't do any good."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't give him what he wants."

"And what's that?" Dean asked.

"What everyone wants. My sister, my children, you humans - an apology. A big, wet "I'm sorry.""

"Well, so give it to him. It's not like he's askin' for a weapon, or for Hell, or for Heaven. He's askin' for words."

"I can't say I'm sorry if I'm not." He placed plates of pancakes in front of Sam and Dean. "What he wants an apology for, I did it for humanity. For the world. Look, Lucifer wants what everybody wants: Amara got. 'kay? Let's just give him a little time to cool off." He sipped from a mug labeled WORLD'S GREATEST DAD.

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Okay, well, I don't know if you've noticed, but a little time is not something that we have. The end is friggin' nigh."

Thunder rumbled.

EXT. CABIN - GRAND ISLE, LOUISIANA

Insects hummed around a cabin in the bayou. Smoke billowed from its chimney.

INT. CABIN

Clea sat at a table strewn with candles and other objects, holding a deck of cards. She laid one down, her brow furrowing. "Hm." She flipped over another card, then laid down a card to complete the spread and glanced over her shoulder. "Rowena. Door's not locked."

The front door opened and Rowena entered.

"What all that astral projection bull for?" Clea asked.

"We're hardly on the best of terms, Clea," Rowena replied. "Before barging in, I just wanted to check for hex bags, or a-" Clea pulled an old pistol from under the table and leveled it at Rowena, "-that."