To say the next few days were busy would be an understatement. The trip to the bunker was much more fun than you expected, filled with laughter, music and heated glances between you and Dean. Dean kept the Impala heading East, taking you farther away from your boring existence, giving you a chance at something exciting. Something you hadn't felt in decades. 

Once at the bunker, Sam and Dean made you promise that you would tell no one about its locations and secrets. All you could do was nod your head as you took in the wondrous view in front of you. It had been confusing at first, and you had been disappointed at first glance. Dean had spent the majority of the trip touting all the fine points of the bunker. But when he had pulled up, all you could see was a rusted metal door hidden in the side of a hill. Pasting a smile on your face, you tried hard at pretending that you were as excited as Dean.  

But once he opened the door, you no longer had to pretend, because your breath was truly stolen from you at what laid beneath the dirt. An iron staircase was the first thing you saw, intricate and winding as it guided you down into the main room. Older machines lines one wall, a huge table with a lighted map painted on it. Dean took your hand, leading you down the stairs, all the while explaining about the Men of Letters, and how ahead of their time they had been. How he and his brother were legacies. Walking past the map table, Dean showed you a room full of bookcases, a couple of wooden tables in the middle. It was a place you could imagine spending a lot of time relaxing in. 

'"This is the library, Sam's heaven." Dean explained, and you knew it could be yours also. There were hundreds of books, some ancient and exotic, some as old as you. A couple you have read before. Many that you wanted to pull out and start perusing. 

Dean pointed to the left, and your gaze followed his to a long corridor. "That is to the kitchen, the dungeon, and other rooms that we haven't completely gone through yet. This way is to the bedrooms."

Following him once again, you soon learned where the large, shared bathroom was, learning about the amazing water pressure. Dean opened up a door, showing you a simple room, with nothing more than a bed, a small loveseat, dresser and sink. It was directly across from Dean's, and he told you it was yours for the taking. Explaining that this way he was close by if you needed anything.  Truthfully you didn't mind, you liked being close to Dean.

After Dean told you that tomorrow would be a busy day of training, you went to bed early, excited to get that part of your hunting underway. Dean had promised he would take you down to the shooting range and teach you how to handle a gun. After some prodding Sam had said he would teach you about the monsters and how to kill them. You already knew more than you let on, but you planned on using this time to become closer to Sam. He had softened toward you, but still didn't trust you as much as Dean did.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair out, you felt the familiar tug of of once again being summoned. "Not again." You muttered, wondering if Crowley had gone against his word. Standing up, you let yourself be transported, crossing your arms in annoyance when you realized where you were. You had only been allowed in here once or twice, but you could still recognize the Kings Royal chambers at once. Even though he didn't need to sleep, Crowley still enjoyed having his personal space, and a bed for extracurricular activities.

The King was dressed in a black velvet robe thrown over red silk pajamas. Currently sitting in his favorite antique ornate Gothic chair, he held a piece of parchment up to the light. Glancing up, he nodded to the chair next to him.

"Sit." He ordered, and you quickly complied, not wanting to cause any more suspicions. The chairs were placed next to a fireplace, and with a snap of his fingers, Crowley had it lit. "Is that what crossroads demon are wearing now?"

You had forgotten that you had been dressed for bed, wearing one of Dean's shirts, and your panties. You had forgotten pajamas when you had grabbed some items, but you didn't mind. Dean's shirt was long and comfy, and smelled like him.

"I was just getting ready for bed." You retorted, pulling the shirt down modestly, tucking your legs underneath you. Crowley caught your movement, and frowned.

"You've been a Demon for almost a hundred years, and you're still worried about modesty? I don't ever think I will understand you." Crowley stated, before returning to his parchment. At first you sat there, waiting for him to get to the point, but the longer you sat there, the more frustrated you became.

"Crowley?" You started, hoping to gain his attention, but he kept reading his stupid paper.

"Crowley!" You exclaimed, and finally his deep chocolate eyes left the old parchment and gazed upon you with a hint of anger. "Yes?" He asked in that deep accent of his.

"Not that I don't mind spending time with you, but why did you bring me here?" You asked.

He sat the parchment down, and turned his full attention on you. "I was just curious as to how you were doing."

You fiddled with the hem of the shirt before answering. "Much better thank you."

"Fine, than you should be able to go back to work tomorrow." He said, before moving to pick his parchment back up.

"No!" You hadn't realized you had shouted until you flashed a glance Crowley's way. His mouth was open in shock, you had never raised your voice to him before.

"Why ever not?" Crowley asked, his curiosity showing. That was never a good thing.

Thinking quickly, you cast your gaze back down, trying to act nervous and demure. "I'm just not ready yet. I still feel a little shaken."

Crowley stood up from his chair, and slowly strode towards you. You watched as his tasseled slippers took sure steps, before stopping right in front of you. You sat back as Crowley leaned down, placing a hand on each arm of the chair, effectively trapping you from moving. "I have a feeling that's not the only reason. Why don't you tell me the truth."

Not wanting to cause trouble for Sam and Dean, you tried to lie your way out of this, but Crowley was too smart. "Where did you get that shirt?"

He leaned even closer, sniffing the collar of your shirt, and you shivered in fear.

He stood up straight, and caressed his chin in thought. "I know that scent. Only one human smells of gunpowder, and motor oil, with a mix of musk and deceit. How the hell did you get mixed up with Dean Winchester?"