Hello lovelys! This Fic is a big deal for me. It's my 20th FanFic ever written!
So, this isn't going to be a very long Fic. Maybe 5 chapters?
Set Season 2 Supernatural, Season 1 Psych.
DISCLAIMER: First half of this chapter is taken DIRECTLY from episode 2X08 (Crossroad Blues). I don't own the dialogue between Sam, Dean, and George Darrow. Also, while we're at this, don't own Supernatural or Psych or their characters, but that should be obvious.
Sam and Dean Winchester, hunters of all things evil, had found themselves in Greenwood, Mississippi, after hearing of a series of 'Dog Attacks'. Yeah, that's what they were. The Winchesters knew better than to believe the stories that the others had come up with, so it was back to the usual hunting for them. After finding out just what they were dealing with – Hellhounds, much to Dean's annoyance – they were finally able to take a step forwards in their hunt. They found the crossroad that had lead to the initial summoning of the demon, and found the photo used for the ritual. After questioning people at Lloyds, they knew just where to go.
The two brothers made their way up the stairs of the apartment complex that they were instructed to go to. "What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked
"George Darrow," Dean responded, "apparently quite the regular at Lloyds. And his house… definitely not going to end up on MTV cribs or anything."
"Yeah," Sam laughed. "Which means whatever deal he made, it wasn't for cash"
"Well, who knows, maybe this place is filled with babes in princess Leia bikinis," Dean shot Sam his usual smile as he continued up the stairs. Sam just rolled his eyes and audibly sighed. "I'm just saying, this guy has one epic due coming. The least he could do is have some fun," Dean continued, as they found themselves on the right floor.
Sam was tempted to respond to his brother, but didn't even bother, as they had finally arrived at room 4C, the apartment they were looking for.
"Look at that," Sam says, pointing to some sort of dust on the floor by the door.
"What is that, pepper?" Dean asked, crouching down and feeling the weird substance.
The door suddenly opened, revealing an aging, African-American man.
"Who the hell are you?" he barked.
"George Darrow?" Dean asks
"I'm not buying anything," The man in the doorway said before trying to slam the door on the brothers.
"Woah, woah, looks like you got the wrong shaker there," Dean said quickly, referring to substance under door frame, in attempt to gain the older man's attention, "Usually when you want to keep something evil out, you go for the salt."
George glanced between Sam and Dean, clearly debating answering and being cooperative, before he finally shook his head, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about this," Dean said as he took out the photo from the crossroad box that they had found only moments ago. George looked at the two brothers, the fear clear in his eyes. "Tell me, you seen that hellhound yet?"
"Look," Sam says, trying to play 'good cop' in this situation. "We want to help. Please. Just five minutes"
After a moment longer of hesitation, George Darrow finally lets the brothers into his apartment. The two brothers followed him in, looking around and taking in the man's living environment. Sam and Dean glanced at each other, before Sam spoke up, "So what is that stuff?"
"Goofer dust" George answered, receiving nothing but blank looks from boys. George rolled his eyes before turning back to face the Winchesters. "You boys think you know something about something, but not Goofer dust?" At the second round of blank looks he received from the brothers, he huffed and threw a bag towards them. Dean quickly shot a hand up, grabbing the bag before it fell to the floor.
"Well, we know a little about a lot of things," Dena said, recovering from the unexpected throw. "Just enough to make us dangerous." He continued.
"What is it?" Sam asked, quickly acting as the diffuser between his brother and George.
"Hoodoo… my grandma taught me. Keeps out demons."
"Demons we know," Dean said, with a confident smile
"Well then, keep it. Maybe it'll do you some good." George walked off towards one of his painting, turning his back to both Sam and Dean. "Four minutes left," he calls
"Mr. Darrow, we know you're in trouble," Sam tried.
"Yeah, that you got yourself into," Dean commented, earning a glare from his brother.
"But it's not hopeless, alright?" Sam continued, ignoring his brother. "There's gotta be something we can do"
"Listen, I get that you boys wanna help. but sometimes, a person makes their bed and they just have to lie down in it. I'm the one that called that demon in the first place."
Dean shot an 'I told you so' look at Sam, before turning back to the man in front of them. "What did you do it for?" he genuinely asked.
"To be great. I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just… I never thought about the price."
"Was it worth it?" Dean asked.
"Hell nah. Of course, I asked for talent. I should've gone for fame," George let out a small chuckle. "I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile a paintings nobody wants. But that wasn't the worst."
"Go on," Sam pushed.
"The demon didn't leave. I never counted on that.. After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyds for a week. Just chattin'. Making more deals. I tried to warn folks, but who gonna listen to an old drunk?"
"How many others are there?" Sam asked
"An architect… this doctor lady, I kept up with them, they been in the papers. At least they got famous."
"Who else, George, think," Dean urged.
"Uh... one more. Nice guy too, considering… Spencer, his name was. Never did find out his first name. Went off back home to California the second he made that deal. Santa Barbara, I think, last I checked. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for."
"No. no, there's gotta be a way," Sam tried, but George shakes his head.
"You don't get it, I don't want a way."
"Look, you don't – "
"I called that thing! I brought it on myself!" a pause. "I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold 'em off till the end. Buy a little time. Okay boys, time yo went. Go help somebody that wants to be helped.
"We want – "
"Get out! I got work to do."
"You don't really want to die."
"I don't. I'm… I'm tired."
Sam and Dean had quickly made their way to the library after their talk with George. Sam had printed off a couple articles, before climbing into the Impala with Dean. As they drove, Sam read through the articles and called Bobby Singer, asking him to look up any person named Spencer who might have been in Mississippi ten years ago.
Dean, on the other hand, drove as fast as he could, hoping not to catch any speed camera, or any cop's attention. The damn idiot not only had to make a deal with a demon, he just had to move several states over as well, make everything much more complicated for them. The only consolation they had was the fact that if George Darrow wasn't claimed yet, maybe they wouldn't be too late for this Spencer idiot.
"Dean, Bobby and I think we have something," Sam said, looking at his articles.
"Well, who is he? What idiot made the deal?" Dean asked, still not liking the idea at all that someone could make a deal with a demon.
"Listen to this, a guy by the name Shawn Spencer had been travelling America on his motorbike, this rusty old thing that was falling apart beneath him. He got into a pretty bad accident in Mississippi. He was fine, no permanent injuries, but his bike was destroyed beyond repair. He ended up stranded in Greenwood for a while, spending a lot of time at Lloyds. Then, one day, he come across this scratch card and got lucky. He won three million dollars, bought a new bike, and got the hell out of that town."
"Sounds a bit too much like a coincidence. Plus, no one's that lucky," Dean agreed. "What's he up to nowadays?"
Sam had to let out a smile and a small chuckle. "You're not going to believe this. He's working as a Psychic Detective."
"Psychic? What, like your type of psychic? Dreams and all that jazz?"
"I have no idea," Sam admitted.
"Well, if he's anything like you, Yellow Eyes wouldn't make a deal with him to kill him, right?"
"Doesn't mean he can't make some other type of deal with him."
The brother's exchanged a look, and both of them understood. Dean turned back to the road and pushed down the accelerate pedal even more than it was. This case could turn out to be much more dangerous than either of them had initially thought. They could be in a lot of trouble here.
P.S. I know the distance between the two states make Sam and Dean travelling to California seem a bit unrealistic… just go with it for now. Couldn't think of a way to make it work.
Also, please review!