A/N: Set during 6.21: Let It Bleed

120: Tea with the King

"Well, darling, aren't you in a pretty pickle?"

Jane didn't know if she sighed or not, she still couldn't feel anything. She had no idea how much time had passed, how long she had been in this angelic induced coma, or even where she had 'gone' because this odd state of consciousness came and went. She took a moment to survey the situation, realizing her body had been moved to the bedroom she and Dean shared at Bobby's house. She felt like sighing, trying again, as her eyes moved to the King of Hell. Crowley was standing at the foot of the bed, staring down at her body and she knew that wasn't good but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything about it either.

"I wonder…"

"HEY!" Jane knew screaming at Crowley wasn't going to do any good but he had gone from the foot of the bed to sitting at her side, holding her hand. "Let- oh that's gross… that's so gross…" He had used a fingernail to slit her palm and was now tasting her blood. Again. An Alpha vampire had bitten her not so long ago and Crowley had 'sampled' her then.

"Actually, Mrs. Winchester, it's quite delicious."

It took her a moment to realize that he was now staring at her. Her her, not the empty shell on the bed. "You can see me?"

"So, love, how did this come about?" Crowley asked politely, his tone more amused then curious.

"You already know." She kept her tone polite as well, remembering what she had learned, what she Knew, what had caused Castiel to do this to her. The last time Jane had encountered Crowley, he had tried making her his psychic bitch. "You and Castiel are working together."

"We are… or were, it's complicated."

She hoped her eyebrow was raised, that was what she was aiming for.

"Bit of a lover's tiff," Crowley's eyes swept over her thoughtfully. "Fortunately, I have an… ace up my sleeve, if you will."

Jane felt her not there stomach dropping. Or at least she imagined she did.

"Where is she?"

Bobby and Sam had been downstairs, going over again Lovecraft and Purgatory, Dean had gone to check on Jane. It seemed stupid, checking on someone who was comatose but Dean was fairly religious about it. They both looked at him, confusion on each face before it registered. Jane wasn't in the bed, not upstairs, and the way Dean started tearing through the house said she wasn't… here.

"Jane's gone."

"That's impossible." Sam said, inwardly wincing at how stupid he sounded. Of course, it was impossible, she was comatose… you didn't just wake up, right? "We would have heard her."

"Hell, we would have SEEN her." Bobby grunted unhelpfully, shaking his head and followed Dean to the kitchen. He half expected to see Jane there at the counter, doing up the dishes or whipping up something for dinner. As he already knew, she wasn't there. He kept silent as the boys tore up the house, remaining where he was in said kitchen as he simply waited, and listened. "Someone took her."

"We would've seen them."

"Not if-"

"Not if it wasn't someone using the door," Dean sounded a lot calmer than what he felt at the moment. "We-" The phone rang and nobody moved, all eyes turning to stare at it. When it kept on ringing, he moved to pick it up.

"Hello, Dean."

He let out a soft groan.

"Fancy a chat?"

Jane had forgotten that when he wasn't threatening to turn her into chow, Crowley was amusing. That was weird, finding someone -well, something- that could flay you raw with a thought funny. Equally weird was being mobile. She was flexing her fingers, wondering how long she had been in that angel induced coma. Not long, she wasn't suffering any deterioration or anything, shouldn't muscles go to hell if not used? She sat there quietly on a posh leather couch, wiggling everything and enjoying the feel of sunlight coming through open French doors. She could smell… water. She wasn't anywhere near Bobby's anymore.

"…your chocolate's been in my peanut butter for far too long."

Her stomach rumbled, informing her that she was starving.

"Your darling wife is famished." Crowley raised an eyebrow at her, turning to give her most of his attention.

"Bullshit. You don't have her."

Speakerphone. She could hear the worry in Dean's tone from her spot on the couch.


Rolling his eyes, Crowley extended the cell in her direction.

"I'm fine."

"For now, pet, for now. Back to business Dean-O."

"I'm going to kill you."

"Ever with the wit… I have your wife and I'll be keeping her until I'm satisfied that you and the moose have backed the Hell off."

"I'm telling you, last chance to let her go."

"Mmm," Crowley clicked his tongue, dramatically rolling his eyes in Jane's direction. "You're adorable. Don't worry Dean, I won't hurt her, she's the one Winchester I don't want to rip to shreds."

Because he wanted to use her. Jane kept that thought to herself though the way he winked at her told her he was thinking along the same lines.

"You and Jolly Green stand down, got it? Kisses." Carelessly, Crowley ended the call, tossing the cell aside in a very humanlike fashion. "Now, Jane, let's chat, shall we?"

"Can I eat something first?"

"I'm feeling peckish myself."

"You took Jane."

"Well hello sweetie, you look tense." Crowley put down his book, not looking the least bit perturbed at Castiel's appearance. "It seemed only fair, you're the one who put her in the coma."

"Where is she?"

"Safe. Can't find her?"

Castiel's brow creased for a fraction before smoothing out. Jane was an anomaly and it was keeping her off his radar. That or Crowley had done something untoward, that was more likely. "You know I can't."

"And she's not exactly praying for your help right now." Crowley pursed his lips. "For shame, shutting her down like that."

"I told you-"

"Not to touch Sam and Dean, and I haven't. I'm just exploiting the loophole you left wide open for me. As long as those two morons are out looking for her, they're leaving us alone. Everyone wins."

"Except Jane."

"Trust me, angel cakes, Janey girl is fine."

"Do you know anything about Purgatory, love?"

The fact that Crowley was holding a civilized conversation with her told Jane that he was gearing up to try using her again. She wasn't exactly sure what use she could be outside of the obvious, bait to keep Sam and Dean off of his and Castiel's respective asses. "It's where monsters go when they die." She said finally, hesitating when he gestured for her to pour the tea off the service sitting between them. They were no longer in the posh hotel room, or wherever that had been, but some warehouse. It was dark and grungy throughout the areas she had seen minus this small room, her cell as it were. "Castiel and you are trying to open it."

"Which is why he laid you low, and here I thought angels were the good guys."

"We both know," Jane focused on what she was doing, keeping her hands steady. "That angels are just as shady as you demons."

"I'm not sure I like what you're implying, Jane, darling'," He eyed the sugar bowl she was reaching for. "Two, please."

Two lumps of sugar it was, she added the same to her own. "You're not going to let Dean take me when he comes, are you?"

"You're rather confident in his abilities. Sammy is the smart one you know."

With that confidence Crowley was speaking of, Jane added creamer to both cups, a small smile curving her lips. "I think we both know that it's not a matter of if but when he comes."

"Maybe." He took the cup she held out to him, taking a slow sip, his eyes never leaving her face. "I think having a personal pet psychic has its uses."

"You're the King of Hell. What do you need a psychic for? Torture would work-" Jane trailed off, remembering the cells of monsters he had been holding, that they had been capturing for him. Torture hadn't worked on those things so he had tried using her as a type of psychic lie detector test. Well, he had been intent on trying, that hadn't panned out thanks to the boys. "Really? How many times do I have to say it? It doesn't work that way!"

"What if it does and you just haven't learned how to do it, hmm? What if you just need some… motivation?" Crowley leaned back in his chair, studying her thoughtfully. "Besides, if that doesn't work, I think I'll have you dissected."

Jane blanched at that.

"See if we can't figure out what makes you different from the other meat sacks."