Crowley looks up at the person helping him with the table. Not a person---he's really just a child, isn't he? Can't be more than seventeen or eighteen, right? Great hair. Children don't belong in Hell, not in Crowley's opinion. No child has ever done anything so horrible, not on purpose. Not without some motivator beyond what people really understand.

"No," he says, very seriously. "No, we're not in Hell. I don't know where we are, but we're not really in Hell."

Purgatory? Yeah, Crowley could bet even money on that. But he's not going to tell the lad that.

"Come on, to the window."