[And Crowley switches on his filter -- and the video feed. He's in his home, in a leather chair that looks slightly too big for him, but he seems to take it up anyway. And his hellhound, ever present, is at his side, her massive head resting on the arm of the chair, with her nose pressing into his sleeve, but the demon doesn't seem to notice or pay attention to her.

The dog hasn't left his side since he was murdered.]

I didn't have to kill him. I helped lock him in the Cage. But regardless -- that's antiquated history that isn't relevant anymore. We can discuss that later, at a different time. More importantly --

[Crowley shifts slightly, his eyes a little brighter, with interest.]

You're a fallen angel, aren't you?

[Michael wouldn't have given half a shit if he weren't family.]