"It's this bloody place," Crowley says. "It sucks all of the light out of everything. Candles, torches, lightbulbs. Everything. It's dark all of the time and you can't see anything even when you really fucking need it."

He reaches over and waves a hand over the torch, but no more light comes out of it. It should. It should glow brighter with demonic light, but there's nothing.

He reaches out to open up the door to the lower deck.

"We're just going to have to wing it."