The dim light of the dingy motel room flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the worn-out furniture. The air was thick with the scent of cheap whiskey and the lingering aroma of smoke. You glanced at the clock on the nightstand; it was almost midnight. Dean had stepped out a few hours ago, chasing a lead on a possible ghoul sighting nearby, leaving you with strict instructions to stay put and wait for his return.

You reached into your jacket pocket and pulled out a weathered old phone, its screen cracked and was barely functional. You hesitated for a moment, your thumb hovering over the call button. Dean would kill you if he knew what you were about to do, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And right now, you were out of options.Taking a deep breath, you pressed the call button and held the phone to your ear. The dial tone rang out, echoing in the silent room, and just as you were about to lose your nerve, the line clicked.

"Well, well, well," Crowley's smooth, sarcastic voice drawled through the receiver. "To what do I owe the pleasure? I assume this isn't a social call."

"No, it's not," You replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I need your help, Crowley. Dean's out chasing his tail, and we don't have time for that. I've got a problem that needs solving, and I think you're the only one who can do it."

There was a brief pause, and you could almost picture Crowley's smug grin on the other end. "Go on, then. What's so important that you'd risk your sweetheart’s wrath to speak with the King of Hell?"

"I need information. I'll owe you a favor..." You kept your voice even, despite the nerves in your stomach.

Crowley chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "A favor, you say? How delightfully intriguing. You know how I love collecting favors. Very well, darling. You've piqued my interest. Give me the details, and I'll see what I can do."