A Fiddle Of Gold Against Your Soul

Chapter One

Lizzie sat in the backseat of her friend Dean Winchester's '67 Chevrolet Impala, thinking. She had just been informed by Castiel, an angel and another one of her best friends, that her boyfriend, Sam (who was also Dean's younger brother) was without his soul after he had been raised from Hell while attempting to put Lucifer back in his 'cage'.

Lizzie at first, didn't want to accept that Sam didn't have his soul anymore. She had known that something was different about him when he was raised from Lucifer's cage, sure! But what worried her the most, was that because Sam didn't have his soul, perhaps he did not have the same feelings for her as he did when he still had his soul. The thought of this, made Lizzie's eyes sting, and well up, as she sniffed, and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

"She's taking this harder than I ever thought she would," Sam remarked to Dean in an undertone so Lizzie couldn't hear him. By 'this', he meant, him living without his soul. "Yeah! No kidding!" said Dean, gazing at Lizzie through the rearview mirror as she continued to cry softly.

Sam turned around in his seat, and took Lizzie's hand. "I know this is hard for you, Lizzie," he said gently. "But please try, okay?"

Lizzie nodded, as Sam handed her a Kleenex as she took it, and blew her nose. She knew that just pining over the fact that her boyfriend was now soulless wasn't going to do any good, but on the other hand, what else could she do? Sam was a completely different person now; a shell of the person he used to be. When he first emerged from the pit, Lizzie had kissed him full on the lips and he didn't even smile! That was when Lizzie got a strong sense that something had happened to him, and that something was really wrong.

By the time they stopped at a motel in rural Georgia for the evening, Lizzie was looking tired, and her face was tear-stained and grimy from her makeup smearing.

Sam did not speak to Lizzie for the remainder of the evening, and when he and Dean went out to get some fast food for dinner, Lizzie felt so lost, and heartbroken.

She needed someone to talk to. Someone who could understand what she was going through at the moment. The first person she thought of was her good friend Castiel, who was also one of God's angels.

"Castiel," Lizzie sighed unhappily. "Listen, I know you are probably busy with stuff, but I really need someone to talk to. I'm not coping very well with Sam not having his soul, and…."

"Say no more, Lizzie!" said a voice as Lizzie turned her head to see Castiel standing by the door. "Hey!" said Lizzie. "You called?" asked Castiel. Lizzie nodded. "Yes, I did," said Lizzie. "So, you are having difficulty coping with Sam no longer possessing his soul?" asked Castiel.

Lizzie nodded. "Yeah," she said, looking upset. "I know that it's been hard for you," said Castiel. "Do you?" asked Lizzie, her liquid topaz eyes staring into Castiel's pale blue eyes. "Have you ever lost someone very important to you?"

"Lizzie," said Castiel in a gently impatient tone. "Technically, you haven't lost Sam…"

"You know what I mean," Lizzie muttered, not looking at Castiel.

Castiel nodded as he reached inside the pocket of his beige trenchcoat and pulled out a composition notebook and a ballpoint pen, and handed them to Lizzie.

"What's this?" asked Lizzie, taking the notebook and pen from Castiel. "To write down your thoughts and emotions in," said Castiel. "You mean, like a journal?" asked Lizzie. Castiel nodded. Lizzie laughed. "So, what? Are you like, my personal therapist, or something?"

Castiel smiled. "In a manner of speaking," he said, smiling back. Lizzie smiled. "Thanks," she said. Castiel nodded. "I'll check up on you in a few weeks, and we can talk again, okay?" Lizzie nodded as Castiel disappeared.

Over the next few days, Lizzie continued to write in her 'journal' that Castiel gave her. But it did not ease her anguish at the fact that she had a soulless boyfriend. Lizzie became more and more depressed; she couldn't sleep, she didn't eat, her hair had even began to fall out and she even contemplating cutting herself, to relieve some of the pain. But, deep down, she knew that wouldn't solve anything. Sam would still remain without a soul even if she sliced up her forearms.

What am I supposed to do? Lizzie thought to herself. Then, she thought of something. It would be extremely risky, but it seemed like the only option. Lizzie got up from the desk, and exited the hotel room.

Lizzie walked down a busy street until she came to a graveled crossroads. She took a high-school graduation photo of herself from her pocket, placed it in a small tin box, and buried it in the center of the crossroads. Once the box was buried, Lizzie stood up and waited. After only five minutes, she became impatient. "Show your face, you son of a bitch!" she yelled. A male voice with a British accent answered her. "Easy, sweetheart, you shout loud enough, you'll loose that pretty voice of yours."

Lizzie turned around, to see a man dressed in a black suit, smiling at her. "Hello, Lizzie," he said. Lizzie did not smile back, and merely replied, "Hello, Crowley," she said. "It's nice to see you again," said Crowley. Lizzie did not reply at this. "So, you aren't taking Sam not having his soul very well, eh?"

Lizzie scowled. "I didn't come here to make small talk," she spat. Crowley raised his eyebrows. "What can I do for you then?" he asked. "I wanna make a deal," said Lizzie.

Crowley smiled. "Let me guess, Sam gets his own soul back, and you're offering up yours in exchange?"

"There are hundreds, maybe thousands of demons that would love to get their hands on it, and it's all yours, all you have to do is give Sam back his soul, and give me ten years – Ten years, and then you come for me," said Lizzie.

Crowley laughed. "Surely you can't be serious," he said.

Lizzie was deeply tempted to say "I am serious, but don't call me Shirley," but she didn't think that this was the right time for cracking jokes. Especially since she was in such a serious situation. "I don't understand," she said. "That's the same deal you give everyone else.

Crowley's smirk, didn't fade from his face. "You're not everybody else," he said as he walked up to Lizzie and whispered into her ear, "Why should I give you anything?" he asked. "I've made a lot of deals in my time, but your soul – It's already tarnished from your anguish over Sam not having his own soul,"

"Fine," said Lizzie. "Nine years then." "No," said Crowley. "Eight," Lizzie offered. Crowley laughed. "You just don't know when to quit, do you? You keep going, the answer's still gonna be 'no,'" he said.

Lizzie couldn't believe what was happening. She was desperate, and Crowley was refusing to make a deal with her.

"Okay then," said Lizzie, sighing heavily. "Five years. Five years, and my bill comes due. It's either that or no deal," she said firmly.

Crowley walked up to Lizzie until he was half an inch away from her mouth. "Then no deal," he whispered as he started to walk away. "Good luck maintaining your relationship with Soulless Sammy," he said.

"Wait!" said Lizzie desperately. Crowley stopped walking and turned around. "What do I have to do?" asked Lizzie. "First off, quit groveling. Needy women are such a turn-off," he said. "Look, normally I wouldn't do this, but what can I say, I got a soft spot for you, Liz. Your like a kitten, you're just too fun to play with."

There was a pause. Then –

"I'll do it," Crowley sighed. "You'll give Sam back his soul?" "I will," said Crowley. "And because I'm such a saint, I'll give you one year, and one year only."

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. "Rules?" she asked. "If you try to get out in any way whatsoever, then the deal is off. I get to keep your soul, and Sam will die,"

"Why?" Lizzie demanded. "Why does Sam have to die if I try to get out of the deal? And why do you have to keep my soul?"

Crowley smirked. "That just the way it is," he said.

Lizzie thought about it for a moment. Was it really worth it? On one had, she would have the old Sam back, but on the other hand, it would only be for one year, then she would die.

"I think it's perfectly fair," said Crowley, still smiling. "Don't you want back the man you fell in love with, Lizzie? That, and you get to spend one long year with him." Lizzie still said nothing.

"I don't have all day, Lizzie. I need an answer," said Crowley impatiently. "Going once, going twice…" Lizzie gripped the sides of Crowley's face, and kissed him full on the lips – sealing the deal.

"Good," said Crowley smoothly as Lizzie stopped kissing him. She looked positively revolted. "Why did you have to use tongue?" she shrieked, taking a toothbrush, and travel-sized tube of toothpaste from her purse, squirted a bit of toothpaste on the bristles of her toothbrush and began to fiercely scrub at her teeth.

Crowley was still smiling as he turned around. "See you in a year, Lizzie," he said as he began to walk away. "Yeah…..See you," said Lizzie as she spat on the ground.

"Where were you?" asked Dean as Lizzie walked back into the hotel room. "I uh, went for a walk," said Lizzie. "We got you some dinner," said Sam, shoving a paper bag, with a fast food insignia on it. "Thanks, Sam," said Lizzie as she sat down.

The whole time Lizzie ate, Dean stared at her with a suspicious expression on his face. Finally, it seemed like he couldn't take it anymore. "Hey Lizzie, I left something in the car, I think you should take a look at. Mind coming with me?" he asked. "Sure," said Lizzie as she got up and followed Dean out the door.

Just as soon as they were out the door, Dean grabbed Lizzie by the collar of her jacket and slammed her against the wall. "What did you do, huh?" he asked. "Dean, I can explain…" said Lizzie.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Dean yelled, shaking Lizzie. Lizzie didn't respond. "Oh, my God! You made a deal!" "Dean…" said Lizzie. "With Crowley, didn't you?" said Dean.

Lizzie sighed heavily. "How long did he give you?" asked Dean, as he continued to shake Lizzie. She didn't respond. "HOW LONG?!" Dean yelled.

"Same as you: One year," said Lizzie. "Oh, my God!" gasped Dean. "Dean, it was the only way!" Lizzie protested. "Way for what?" Dean growled. "For Sam to get his soul back!" said Lizzie. "He got it back?" asked Dean.

Lizzie nodded. "I could strangle you!" Dean snarled. "Oh, and send me downstairs ahead of schedule?" asked Lizzie sarcastically. "Yeah, right. You don't have the guts and you know it."

"Harry was right about you," said Dean. He was referring to Lizzie's ex-boyfriend and schoolmate Harry Potter, who Lizzie had tracked down when Dean and Sam needed to learn how to produce Patronuses in order to fight off a large group of Dementors that had gone on a feeding frenzy in a small Oregon town.

"You're always willing to sacrifice your life to the people you love, and you don't give a rat's ass about the consequences!" "That's not true!" Lizzie yelled. "How's Sam gonna feel about this, huh?" asked Dean. "How's your boyfriend gonna feel, when he knows that you're going to Hell?"

Lizzie shrugged. "You can't tell him," she said. "Listen, Dean, do what you want to me – beat me to a pulp if you want to, but please don't tell Sam. It would break his heart," Lizzie pleaded. After a while, Dean nodded. "Thanks," said Lizzie as she walked back into the hotel room.