"You two -- at best -- are functional morons." Heh. "Yeah?" Dashing El Deano, Ph.D., snaps back. "You're functioning morons...moron...[crap!]" Hee! And then Crowley offers us all an expository information dump, and while Mark Sheppard delivers said dump in most amusing a manner, what you really need to know is this: Lucifer's contempt for humanity is second only to his contempt for demonkind, so minions like Crowley can't expect to last very long should Lucifer prevail. Supernatural Crowley, much like his Good Omens namesake, has grown rather fond of the material luxury he enjoys as head of Hell's Crossroads Sales Division, and is willing to do whatever it takes to maintain the status quo, so.... "What do you say?" he brights in Our Intrepid Heroes' direction. "What if I give you this thing," he continues, offering The Fucking Colt grip-first, "and you go kill The Devil?" Sam hesitates, but accepts The Fucking Colt right before thinking to ask, "You wouldn't happen to know where The Devil is, by chance?" "Birdies tell me he has an appointment in Carthage, Missouri," Crowley helpfully reveals. Sam thanks him kindly, then...pushes the barrel of The Fucking Colt That Can Kill Anything Except When It Usually Can't into Crowley's face! "VIOLENCE!" Not this time, friend of friends. "Rats!" Yep, this is one of those times when The Fucking Colt Usually Can't, because Crowley -- God love him -- made sure the chamber was empty before handing it over. "Oh, yeah," Crowley eyebrows, "you'll probably need some more ammunition." Heh. Crowley hunches over a desk drawer as Dashing El Deano, Ph.D., stumbles across a supposedly excellent question of his own, because he evidently has not been listening to a single goddamned word Crowley's said this entire scene: "Aren't you kind of signing your own death warrant? I mean, what happens to you if we go up against The Devil and lose?" Crowley gathers what little patience he has left with these dolts in his hands along with the remaining ammunition for The Fucking Colt and explains, "Number one, he's going to wipe us all out anyway, two, after you leave here I go on an extended vacation to All Points Nowhere, and three, HOW ABOUT YOU DON'T MISS, OKAY, MORONS?" HA! With that, he flings the remaining ammunition into Dean's chest and vanishes before the package has made it halfway across the room, but Crowley can come back and play anytime he feels like it. "I agree!" I thought you would, my scaly friend. I thought you would.