Missing scene for 9x6 – "Heaven Can't Wait". Pure speculation on my part. This is what I would like to think happened just before Sam realized one of the syringes was missing…
Blood, be my Master
"Abaddon, what a bitch," Crowley spat as he sat in the dark and glared at the dark. "She has no idea who she is messing with! Voiding my contracts – just who does she think she is?"
The sound of someone at the door made him tense. Sam and Kevin hadn't been gone for very long –
A dark silhouette filled the doorway and Crowley smirked.
"Miss me already?" he quipped when Sam turned on the light and closed the door. The tall young man turned around to face him. "Why it's hardly been-" Crowley stopped mid speech, his sharp gaze taking in the unnaturally bright blue eyes peering down at him. "But you're not my Moose, are you?" he guessed, wondering what was going on here.
Considering his visitor for a moment, comprehension was not necessarily the soothing balm of a baby's scream. "My oh my," he mused, "and what do we have here? An angel wearing a Winchester meat suit? Hmmm… that is as interesting as it is disturbing."
The angel approached the table and Crowley involuntarily shrunk back. He briefly wondered why he hadn't previously picked up on Sam's guest before now, but, considering that the kid had always thrown out wonky vibes, he didn't give it too much thought. "Sam continues to surprise me" he admitted instead, "I never would have thought of him, willingly, giving anyone a ride – not even an angel: must be a treat for you, tagging Lucifer's favorite hand-me-down."
Something dangerous flashed across the angel's face but Crowley just smirked and cocked his head, "But maybe little Sammy doesn't know, does he? Well, well, that does make things a bit more interesting…"
"What is or is not going on, is not your concern," the angel deadpanned as he pulled a syringe out of his pocket and laid it on the table in front of Crowley.
The syringe contained blood.
His interest was piqued but Crowley gave no indication as he leaned back his chair and crossed his arms.
"You are a problem," the angel continued. "I cannot have you here."
Crowley snorted, indignant and worried. "So what? You're going to let me make another phone call, first, before you kill me? That's unnecessarily civil and pointless."
"I cannot kill you," the angel clarified. "But I cannot let you go either, so I give you this instead." He pushed the syringe closer to the demon. "You can make your own way out."
Comprehension sparked hope. It could just work but first…
"Whose blood is this?" Crowley demanded knowing that Kevin's had already been used for the "phone call".
The angel hesitated before answering. "That is also not your concern." Then, before Crowley could ask anything else, the angel turned and walked towards the door. He stopped in the doorway and turned back to Crowley, his eyes burning blue. "Consider this for what it is and tell no one where this bunker lies... or else I will burn my own wings to carve you out of hell."
Crowley held the glowing gaze for a long moment and then slowly nodded his head. "I have another matter to attend to that is much more pressing than Rocky and Bullwinkle here." He paused and then added. "But just for the record, beyond that, I owe you nothing."
Without another word, the angel left, leaving the door open and the light on.
The demon waited until after the angel had gone before reaching for the syringe. Call it childish but he refused to give that creature any satisfaction. It was hard enough for him to accept his help.
Picking the syringe up, he stared, transfixed, at his way out.
Of course, Crowley had no idea if it would work or not but the premise was promising and he was counting on the angel not giving him a placebo. No, this was blood, real blood and once it was injected into his arm, it should thin the sulfur in his host's blood enough to allow the demon to cross the Devil's Trap.
Crowley had no idea why the angel was helping him but he wasn't about to waste this opportunity – not even to satisfy his own curiosity.
"All things in their due time", he grinned.
Barely resisting the urge to give the syringe a kiss, the King of Hell lined the sharp tip up against his wrist, and pressed.