HIGHWAY TO HELL
CHAPTER 1
Sourwood, LOUISIANA
"Listen Dean, you got any idea how long it's taken me to actually get this guy to see us?" Sam complained emphatically, soft hazel eyes blazing in usual Sammy fashion.
"Yeah, Sam…" Dean moaned. He gulped nervously, rubbing briefly at his forehead before glancing back at Sam. He could already see Sam's temper revving up in anticipation of another, full-fledged battle of the Winchester wills. "Months… you told me already, like over a dozen times!"
"And you suddenly have something more important to do?" Sam snipped, as his emotions began to twist and turn somewhere deep in his guts.
"Sam please." Dean pleaded softly. "I've done everything you've asked of me lately. Please, just let me do this one thing, for me." It wasn't that he was looking for an argument with his brother, it was just that time was running out and there were certain things he wanted to do.
Dean had eventually, although begrudgingly, caved in to Sam's determination to save him from his deal with the Crossroad Demon, some months back. He'd let his brother drag him from one end of the country to the other, coast to coast, A to Z, on one hair-brained scheme to the next. But no amount of research, or palm reading, or hours upon hours of brain wracking and library bashing had given them any answers. There wasn't a stone, or tome, or witch doktor unturned!
The Crossroad Demon's contract was binding, iron clad; end of story. He was going to die, or Sam was. And Dean wasn't about to let Sam die again!
Only Sam wasn't so willing to give in.
Dean had simply run out of fight. After a lifetime of fighting every possible, conceivable creature and evil, known (and unknown) to mankind, he just didn't have anything left to battle his own brother, and his obstinate, unwavering determination. It was just easier to let Sam have his way. So for the last few weeks, Sam's way had been a desperate battle to find some manner to save Dean's life.
Only now Dean had also run out of hope. With the number of disappointments mounting and not a hint of reprieve from his contract, he'd sucked his hope dry. With the clock literally ticking down the days he had finally accepted facts, even though Sam couldn't; he was a dead man walking…
"Damn it Dean, what the hell could be more important than this?" Sam demanded, on the verge of snapping some sense into him.
Dean sat on the corner of his motel bed, in some dive joint in Sourwood, Louisiana, as he methodically cleaned his pistol, despite the fact that it was spotlessly clean already.
"I wanna see Dad." Dean revealed from beneath down cast eyes as his hands continued to polish.
"Dad?" Sam muttered, pausing as he stalked up and down the breadth of their room. He still hadn't quite got a grip on the fact that Dean's time was essentially up, and Dean was simply trying to tie up loose ends. Sam still vehemently believed there was some way out of the crossroad demon's deal.
"Yeah, Dad." Dean sighed, pausing to glance up at his bewildered brother. "I want to go to Dad's grave, ok?"
Dean was tired; tired of getting beat around from pillar to post, tired of the infinite motels and God only knew how many millions of miles of open road. And man he was tired of the endless ghost to ghoul exterminations and a never-ending supply of demons intent on world domination! It was a brutal, lonely and thankless existence, and he was tired of it all. Most of all, he was tired of hoping that it wouldn't end.
"Oh." Sam was dumbfounded. He just couldn't fathom why Dean was so accepting of his ultimate death. If anyone should go out fighting, it was Dean. And yet here he was, prepared to check out with the same detached defeat that had taken their father. "Can't it wait 'til tomorrow?" He stuttered, knowing he was walking a narrow, emotionally-charged, line.
"No." Dean was honestly blunt; he didn't exactly have a spare 24 hours up his sleeve. And he couldn't quite face another disappointment. He simply didn't have enough hope left at the bottom of his soul to scrape together the optimism to face another illusionary grasp for salvation.
"But surely you could…" Sam was cut short as Dean's patience, already worn to the bone, gave out.
"Sam, you gotta accept facts." Dean blasted as he tossed his gun into his weapon's duffle with his other, meticulously cleaned, arsenal. "This isn't gonna end anyway but me dead!" He stated brusquely. "Let's face it, if you want a sure fire bet, it's a ring in! And you can collect in a couple of days!"
"Dean, you're not gonna die." Sam replied with equal resolve. "Papa Moon can help." Surely there should be some thanks for his relentless pursuit for a deal breaker!
"Papa Moon?" Dean sighed rolling his eyes. "Mama Sun, Sister Star… Papa Jim, Doktor Earl, Doktor A to bloody Z! Damn it Sammy! How many witch doktors and psychics you need, to tell you the same thing?"
"Dean you can't just give up!" Sam snapped back irately. "I can't… I can't just let you go."
"Look…" Dean almost beseeched, gulping down his usual irritation at Sam's tenacity. "I can't give up on something I never had. I'm just accepting facts, Sam. Please… I don't want to argue… I want to see Dad and I want you to come with me." He conceded.
Usually when Dean and Sam had a difference of opinion the brothers effectively became a rock and a hard spot. Compromise wasn't exactly in their vocabulary. Except in recent weeks when Dean had come to the conclusion that sometimes life was literally too short for arguing about issues that essentially didn't matter. He wanted to see his Dad's grave and he wanted Sam to be there. Simple! And he wasn't about to let either his or Sam's obstinate pride get in the way of that.
Dean gazed at Sam with a look he wasn't sure he had ever seen before; 'Please?' Dean's soft green eyes pleaded, short and simple. It was almost as if Dean had mirrored Sam's trademark 'little brother' puppy dog gaze.
Sam stared back blankly at Dean. His mouth twitched as it always did when he wanted to say something, only he couldn't quite find the words…
"Yeah, ok Dean…" Sam muttered back eventually. The Hoodoo witch doktor could probably wait a day…
Dean's smile of relief almost brought a tear to Sam's eye. And he realized, he couldn't remember the last time Dean had looked so relaxed and at ease… or smiled. He had to make his way to the bathroom before reality came crashing in on him and a floodgate was opened on his pent up emotions.
Dean started to pack what remained of his stuff, still strewn around the dark, dingy, mould ridden room that hadn't passed a hygiene or cleanliness check for decades. As he silently reflected on his life, or lack of it, places like this one, and the innumerable other hotels and motels like it, almost made Hell look attractive. The room had a stench to it that could curl nose hairs! At first it had made the brothers want to heave. Neither of them had actually slept beneath the sheets of their beds, the off-white tinge to the bed linen was simply too off-putting, not that the musty brown bed covers seemed any better. The paper thin walls, and around the clock activities in the other rooms made Dean wonder if their bargain room rate wasn't perhaps by the hour. But money was pretty much non-existent. He'd even considered selling a few quarts of blood, just so they could afford to eat a decent meal. Sam's unrelenting search for a miracle had maxed out their credit cards, way ahead of Dean's expectations. For all his scamming the next lot of cards weren't due to arrive in one of their numerous mail boxes for another week, in South Dakota no less! But then Dean had figured Sam would probably want to be with what token family he'd have left by then – Bobby Singer. And, as much as Sam would probably want to whine and moan about it, there wasn't a card among them for Dean. Not that Sam knew; it was one less issue he'd have to tackle with him.
Dean had already forced himself to accept facts; he was going to die, and his time could be counted in days. Torn to shreds by huge invisible Hell Hounds, hounds he was sure he'd already heard, late at night, and possibly even glimpsed out of the corner of his eye. Hounds that he knew he would eventually see, when his time was up, even when others still couldn't. He'd see them as they ripped his soul from his body, to drag him into the very depths of Hell itself. He wondered if it would be quick, hoped it would be. He just couldn't face the hounds ripping him apart like some Tarentino movie extra…
Two days later…
Dodge City. KANSAS.
Having said his goodbyes to his father's grave, as close as they were to Lawrence, he couldn't quite bring himself to visit his mother's. Never could and apparently never would either. Not like there were any remains buried there anyway. Wherever his mother was, it wasn't under the headstone that bore her name.
And now they were in Dodge City. Having failed to reschedule an appointment with Papa Moon, Sam's relentless pursuit had been hidden under the guise of meeting up with Bobby. And Dean had been choked with emotion when they met with the weathered hunter at a local coffee shop.
Their reunion began with a few coffees, some doughnuts and casual chit-chat, with both Sam and Bobby tactfully avoiding the pressing issue at hand. Sam hadn't quite hedged the subject of one of Bobby's associates, with a specialty for 'pacts with the devil' kind of issues.
However, tact wasn't one of Dean's specialties…
"So, as a dead man walking, I say I go out in style!" Dean smiled as he said it, already anticipating the dropped jaws and silent awe that he would provoke. "I want… whiskey - good whiskey - women and par-tey!" Dean's eyebrows wiggled with anticipated delight.
With both Sam and Bobby still dumbfounded, Dean called to the kid working behind the counter. "Hey, Joey!" Dean's smile reached from ear to ear. Had a stranger been told, at that moment, that Dean was on a countdown to death; no amount of convincing could ever substantiate the claim. Joey shuffled to their table expecting them to order another round of their specialty bean blends. "So tell me, you know of any classy establishments to spend the night? And… more importantly, somewhere a guy could get a decent drink and a bit of action? If you know what I mean?" Dean's hands traced an hour glass figure in the air as his eyebrow worked overtime with insinuation.
"Yeah, dude." The barely out of teens replied. "King Solomon's is pretty happenin'. Motel has its own night club. Unless you're wantin' you know…" Joey knelt down by Dean's side and whispered. "like an escort or somethin'?"
"No dude… King Solomon's sounds just great." Dean smiled as he pulled his last twenty from his wallet and slipped it into the kid's hand.
Dean smiled at his companions, once Joey had returned to his post, with an extra wide smirk.
"Dean?" Sam queried. All along it had been Sam trying to break the deal, whilst Dean did his best to ignore it. Sam couldn't quite get why, but then he hadn't accepted that it was a done deal yet. Dean had, and it was just easier to avoid thinking about it, than spend what little time he had left worrying about it.
"Man's gotta have a dyin' wish, right?" Dean grinned.
"Whiskey and women?" Bobby frowned disapprovingly, although, he would have been surprised by anything but.
Dean shrugged his shoulders as he shoved the last doughnut into his mouth in one piece. He was easily pleased…
"Ok then, let's go." Bobby mused as he finished his coffee. "You're giving me indigestion!"
"Yeah, funny." Dean smirked once he swallowed the doughnut. "Hey, Bobby…" he whispered mischievously from down turned eyes, as he toyed with his coffee spoon. "I hope you can pay for all this, Old Man… We're broke!"
"Damn it Dean…" Bobby snapped angrily as he pulled out his wallet. "I ain't old!"
Dean suppressed his roguish grin.
"Bobby?" Sam interceded impatiently, nudging Bobby's knee, hoping the 'seasoned' hunter would broach the issue of meeting with his associate.
Bobby gave Sam a side wards glance as he nodded with acknowledgement.
"So this 'King Solomon' Dean…" Bobby began. "You expectin' me to pay for that as well?"
"Well, you could kinda consider it fulfillin' a dyin' man's last wish." Dean smiled again as he leant back on his chair confidently. He knew, with his dire predicament, Bobby Singer couldn't deny him a thing.
"Ok." Bobby stared at Dean with an expressionless face worthy of the experienced poker player that he was. "But you'll owe me."
Dean couldn't help but chortle at the statement. "Yeah right…" His smile waned as his demeanor became a little more serious when Bobby's stern expression remained plastered to his face. "Sammy's good for it."
"No… not Sam; you can pay up front." Bobby replied, pausing to gauge Dean's obvious confusion. "There's someone I want you to meet with."
"Shit Bobby!" Dean sighed, as irritation welled. He glanced at Sam with blatant accusation. "Not you too! I've had enough! No… freakin'… more!"
"Don't you go cussin' at me Boy!" Bobby snapped back, intent on diverting Dean's growing anger before it had time to take hold. "You owe us a little too!"
The senior hunter had a certain manner about him that demand respect. And Dean always felt compelled to give it. He closed his gaping mouth and smoothed his brow.
"Sorry…" Dean grumbled. "Bobby, there is just no way outta this. Can't I just enjoy what time I got left?"
"Yeah, you can." Bobby conceded. "With as many bells and whistles as you want! But we're the ones gotta try and keep on livin' after you're gone. You gotta let us have a little soul soothin' too!" Bobby was never one to tap-dance around an issue. "We gotta know we at least tried every possibility…"
Dean glanced from one hunter to the other. Had he really been so selfish? Hadn't they already tried? Their combined pleading glare was quite a unified front.
"Fine! But tonight it's King Solomon's!" Dean sighed.
Blackie Jackson's House, Del Mann
An hour's drive out of Dodge City,
KANSAS
Dean went… and they talked.
Dean's interest wavered, despondently, from Blackie Jackson's enormous algae streaked fish tank to his multitude of miss-matched stray dogs wrestling in the middle of his kitchen floor. Agreeing to go didn't bind him to partake, or so he'd figured of his latest pact! Besides, Sam and Bobby knew his situation inside-out; he suspected they even knew it better than he did. So it was easier to let his thoughts wander to the trivial amusement of a Maltese cross effectively subduing a Doberman into submission, than actually allow his meager hopes to shrivel up and die altogether with another disappointment.
He wasn't remotely surprised when their last hope venture went belly up just like all their other attempts to relieve him of his deal with the Crossroad Demon.
"Problem, az I sees it, iz ya don'st knows who ya made tha contact with." Blackie shook his dread-locks sympathetically. "Ain't much to it, I knows, but there's ya problem, ain't nuff in it ta find a loop-hole. Unless'n ya can find sum'in tha demon wants mor'en ya soul… or Sammezz. Sum'in else ya can bargain with! But honestly, I can't even be seein' ya cans negotiate anovva pact. Itz a done deal!"
"Maybe that's it?" Sam prattled excitedly as they drove away from Blackie's near-dilapidated shack that he liked to pass off as a house. "Maybe we can find something the demon could want more than Dean's soul?"
Dean simply glared at Sam with disheartened bewilderment. "What, like a diamond necklace and a box of chocolates maybe?"
"What about the Colt?" Sam pleaded with Bobby, ignoring Dean's last predictable, cynical response. "Dad used it to save Dean."
"Sam…" Bobby sighed. As plausible and feasible as it sounded, he wasn't overly enthusiastic. "John still gave up his soul… Seriously Sam, I'm guessin' that if there was something this demon wanted, more than Dean's soul… something anyone of us could have given him, he'd have demanded it by now."
"Maybe…" Sam stammered. "… we just gotta try and contact him?"
"Who exactly, Sam? You figured out yet who owns the contract?" Dean demanded flatly. "Cause let's face it, when you had your little chat with the Crossroad Bitch, did she suggest anything? I'm figuring she probably would have, what with you wavin' the Colt in her face and all!"
The Crossroad Demon's words echoed through Sam's mind… her final words, just before he shot one of the Colt's bullets into her head. 'He wants Dean's soul… bad. And believe me he's not gonna let it go!... I'm sorry Sam, there's no way outta this one, not this time.'
That was the turning point for Sam, when he suddenly realized Dean was going, for good. And he finally yielded; the least he could do was bend to his brother's every desire…
Dodge City, KANSAS
King Solomon Motel
No pun intended: But Dean had to get the hell out of Dodge!
As his time drew closer Dean had demanded he'd go out with a bang. Thanks to Bobby's open wallet they'd booked into the reasonably classy motel, or at least as classy as a motel could ever get, ironically named the 'King Solomon'. All three secretly mused that if they could just find the dead king's seal, supposedly a mystical ring that could control demons, then maybe Dean would have some chance!
The rooms were large and spacious. They had checked into a family room complete with a huge 'King-Solomon' size bed and two singles; although they all shared the same room. Dean was unarguably allocated the king size bed without dispute from either hunter. Dying, at least, had some perks! There was even an indoor swimming pool, a sauna and a gymnasium on offer.
But the real treat was the small bar that dimmed the lights and upped the music after 9pm when it transformed into a reasonably popular night club. And that's exactly where Dean had requested to be. Celebrate his life rather than mourn him. And Bobby and Sam had put on brave faces and come to the party, just for Dean. And, after a night of drinking, strictly top shelf stuff, both Sam and Bobby were pretty out of it, enough not to have noticed that Dean hadn't actually consumed anywhere near as much alcohol as they'd thought. Instead he'd tipped the whiskey into the fake pot plant by their table. He'd danced with every pretty girl that succumbed to his boyishly seductive smile. He even managed to hustle both Sam and Bobby onto the multicolored, lit-up dance floor; and to see Bobby try and shake his booty was worth every effort.
The bar closed at 3am, and the trio staggered back to their room, with two more bottles of whiskey in hand. It didn't take long before the contents of the first bottle had been consumed, each eager to drown their own personal grief at Dean's ultimate, and seemingly unavoidable death. Eventually their tolerance to the alcohol succumbed and almost-comatose intoxication followed. So it was an easy task for Dean to pour almost every second glass behind his bed headboard, just to be sure he'd be sober enough to make his planned escape. By the time they had begun on the second bottle their bodily defenses had kicked in and both Dean's companions pretty much passed out. Dean put them to bed, in a last act of fathering as far as Sam was concerned. And as for Bobby, the old coot deserved better than to be left sleeping hunched over on the floor at the foot of his bed.
It certainly made sneaking away a lot easier. Dean only had to wait until he could hear Bobby's rhythmic snoring, and watched for Sam's dream twitching to know it was safe to leave.
As it drew close to 5am he had to steal himself away from Sam and Bobby. They were pretty much all the family he had left, certainly the only people left on the face of the earth he could honestly say he actually cared about. And that was why he had to go. All their frantic, desperate and futile attempts at trying to save him had worn his composure away to the bone. Any longer and he would fall apart and he couldn't bring himself to have them witness that. But more importantly he couldn't bear to have them witness his ultimate death at the gory jaws of the Crossroad Demon's Hell Hounds. And he couldn't risk the Hounds going for a two for one deal in the Winchester stakes. He couldn't put Sam or Bobby at risk.
And besides, he was never, ever, one for chick-flick soppy, drawn out, good-byes.
He rearranged his belongings on top of his bed, most of which he'd already sorted, folded and packed neatly away. He certainly wasn't going to need them any more. He'd spent therapeutic time, over the last week, cleaning every weapon. It had long since been his reprieve and escape from reality, when his mind went into auto pilot and blanked out all his fears, worries and demons; and he had a lifetime's worth of those! There was really noting left to do…
He flipped Sam's laptop open and left him a quick note. He removed his amulet and ring, his only real personal possessions, valuable enough to him that he wasn't about to let the Hell Hounds ravage them. He placed them carefully on the bedside table by Sam's side, along with his cell phone. He wouldn't need that any more either and he didn't want them trying to contact him. He was going to die, he'd faced that now, and any discussions to the contrary would be far too disturbing. He'd rather not hope; it would make things far harder when his time came. Last of all he slipped a carefully written set of instructions underneath his phone, on how Sam should look after the Impala. The car was his only other valued possession.
Then finally he checked his .45 colt, his favorite pistol, and grabbed extra ammunition for it. He slid the silver and ivory, custom engraved hand gun into his jeans waistband, at the small of his back where it nudged against his spine in a reassuringly, comforting way. Because, this one last prized possession he would need. And, as he grabbed what remained of their second bottle of whiskey, he snuck out of the room…
He doubted either Sam or Bobby would have woken if an atomic bomb had of gone off, however he wasn't about to risk starting the Impala, with her distinct and rather noisy, gravelly rumble, just in case. Instead he rolled her away, until he was well and truly out of the Motel car park. He consciously refrained from looking back, once he sat in the familiar, comfortable driver's seat. He simply turned the ignition over, allowed her to purr to life and gave her enough gas she roared away. He knew that if he looked back, if he procrastinated too long on what, or more precisely, who, he was leaving behind, and on what awaited him, he'd fall apart. Even as he drove away he had to tighten his grip on the steering wheel because his hands trembled uncontrollably. A foreboding ache grew somewhere in the pit of his stomach and he found himself almost hyperventilating with trepidation…
Sam thought he'd woken early, his head certainly felt as if he could use another 6 or 12 hours sleep. As he blinked his eyes open, against due objection at the far too bright sunlight that streamed through the not-quite-closed door, he realized it was a lot later than he'd thought. It was the noise of the chamber maid's cleaning trolley that had awoken him, that and her courtesy knock at the door and request to see if she could clean their room. And there she stood, door wide open, trolley halfway into the room, rather embarrassed at finding the room occupied. She hadn't after all received a reply, and the room had only been paid for until that morning. She apologized profusely as she backed out of their room, and headed off to the next.
Sam, still dazed and intoxicated, took a few minutes to register anything at all. Bobby stirred, turned over and began to snore once again. Sam rolled his tongue around, wishing he could spit the vile tasting piece of his anatomy out. He half suspected something had crawled into his mouth as he slept and died there… and there was a stench in the room of stale whiskey that would outlast any room deodorizer.
His gaze lazily examined the room and he was somewhat bewildered by the neatly made bed beside him, stacked with Dean's duffle and weapons bag. But no Dean. Sam sat up cautiously, at dire risk of emptying his stomach contents into his lap. He glanced around the room, as he ran his hand through his shaggy hair, expecting to find his brother sitting somewhere in a corner, or at the table, just waiting for him to wake up so that he could shoot off some cynical remark about him sleeping in. But still no Dean. Maybe he'd gone to get breakfast Sam speculated, although the price of their room included a full continental breakfast at the motel's restaurant. Sam turned to his bedside table, to check the digital clock that was built into it. However his attention never quite made it to the clock screen to realize it was 10.43 am. Instead his gaze fell on Dean's cell phone, and more importantly, his amulet and ring that lay beside it.
"What the?" Sam rasped out in a hoarse, post all-night-drinking voice. "Dean?" Sam forced his legs over the side of the bed and clambered to his feet. His first point of inspection was the bathroom, firstly because it was the only other room to check, and secondly because the entire contents of his stomach was definitely coming back up! However, after dousing his face with icy cold water and breathing huge lungfuls of air back, he managed to avoid the predictable reprisal for his alcoholic indulgence.
"Dean?" he called out, loud enough to startle Bobby from his drunken slumber.
"Sam? What's up?" Bobby grunted as he rubbed at his pounding temples.
"Dean's gone." Sam whispered as he stared blankly at Dean's amulet and ring. He knew exactly what they meant. Dean was gone, and he wasn't coming back. Sam moved to the window and squinted out into the car park. He saw nothing but an empty parking space. Bobby's pickup sat there all alone. "Car's gone too." Sam added as his attention bounced from one corner of the room to another: Dean's belongings neatly stacked on his bed… his phone… his amulet and ring… and a note!
Sam pounced on the note, hopeful that Dean had left them an explanation as to where he had gone. However, when Sam unfolded the paper, he found nothing but specific and detailed instructions on the care and maintenance of the Impala. Bobby staggered to Sam's side, and forced the drunken haze from his brain so that he could read Dean's note.
"What the hell?" Bobby grunted in dismay. "Sam you don't need to change the oil that often…" He remarked as he scanned the note.
"He's gone Bobby." Sam sighed as he slumped onto the bed. He collected Dean's amulet and ring into his grasp, squeezing the items in a desperate attempt to have Dean reappear through sheer will and desire.
Bobby, still drunkenly dazed and sleep deprived suddenly began to register just what Sam was saying. Dean really was gone. And then the full implications of the day's significance crashed in on him. Today was Dean's last day, or yesterday had been. He wasn't actually sure… Maybe it was tomorrow. But none-the-less Dean was going to die. They couldn't find a loop hole or an escape clause in Dean's deal with the Crossroad Demon. Nothing that wouldn't result in Sam dying instead, that was. And he'd tried every last contact and resource he could lay his hands on. Not even Blackie Jackson could help, and he was as close to a demonic solicitor as a hunter could get!
Bobby scolded himself for not foreseeing that Dean would do this; would take off. In so many ways Dean functioned on purely primitive survival instincts; instincts that decreed that, upon certain death, he crawl away to die, on his own, and away from his pack. And he should have known that the last thing Dean Winchester would ever want was for Sam to witness his death. Dean had watched Sam die in his arms. Which was the whole reason behind his current predicament, because, Dean simply couldn't let Sam go. In desperation he sold his soul to a Crossroad Demon in return for Sam's life. And even though he knew he would die, Dean couldn't face Sam having to go through the same thing; to witness when the life was extinguished in his eyes. Not after having already felt the trauma of Sam dying in his arms. He just couldn't allow his baby brother to have to feel the same agonizing helplessness, like he had with Sam. Only in Dean's case, life wouldn't just extinguish, like a candle in the wind. His life was predestined to be ripped from him in bloody, vicious grasps at the merciless, savage jaws of the Hell Hounds.
"He's really gone…" Sam gazed at Bobby, with an expression suited to a six year old, who'd been informed that his puppy had been run over by a car. "Bobby?" Sam was at the verge of despair, tears welled in his eyes, although he forced them back, gulping back a huge lump in his throat.
"I know Sam." Bobby replied, wrapping his arm affectionately around Sam's shoulder. "I know."
"There has to be something we can do Bobby…" Sam pleaded desperately.
"I wish there was. We've tried everything, Sam, read everything and spoken to anyone I thought might have the slightest iota! There's just nothing… His time's up, Sam. This is what he wanted…" Bobby consoled. "You know that. This is Dean's choice. The only thing he could ever do to appease his heart… for you. His whole life has always been about you Sam. He couldn't change that, not ever."
"Maybe, but how am I supposed to live with this now?" Sam sucked back his swelling emotions. "After Dad… How could he do this?"
"Sam, don't. Don't rehash all this again and again, let it go. You gotta let Dean go. Do what he'd want you to do from now on, be strong, keep on living." Bobby advised, although he still couldn't condone Dean's act of hypocrisy; not after the anguish Dean had put himself through when John had done the same for him. He'd lived a life of guilt, for being alive, when he knew he shouldn't be. And it would probably eat Sam up in just the same way. How could it not? Not that Bobby would ever want Sam to have died instead. He could never choose death for either of the Winchester boys; he loved them both like they were his own sons. But sometimes it was just so, and should stay so. Even then, he regretted that he couldn't find a way to break the pact. But he knew the tit-for-tat game of death and resurrection the Winchesters had been playing had to stop. "What's done is done and cannot be undone!" He quoted sternly.
They both knew Dean had been adamant that he should have died all along, should have died after he was electrocuted hunting a rawhead, had it not been for Roy Le Grange. And he should have died after Azazel tore his insides apart, and then slammed a damned semi trailer into the Impala… He always said he should have died. And now that his year was up that's exactly the way he wanted it to be.
'That's my point. Dad brought me back, Bobby. I'm not even supposed to be here. At least this way, something good could come out of it, you know? It's like my life could mean something.' Dean has revealed to Bobby almost a year ago…
"It should never have 'been done' in the first place!" Sam sulked.
"You just gotta let it go, Sam…" Bobby sighed.
"I can't Bobby." Sam muttered. "He thought he couldn't go on without me. Only it's me that can't go on without him… I just can't. I can't do this and stay me. Not like he could. The Trickster proved that to me. I need him to keep me… me." The trickster had played the ultimate mind game with him. Killing Dean over and over again, repeating the day with every possible alternative, until, in an ultimate twist of the knife he left Dean dead, for months. And during that time Sam had as good as plunged into the depths of Hell himself. He became a killing machine, stripped of all humanity and compassion. He was stripped of being Sam Winchester. And the scars remained, even if the Trickster eventually set the slate straight. And although Dean often chided Sam about being his Jiminy Cricket, Dean had never, ever become as dark and empty as Sam had. And it scared him, scared him that maybe Azazel had been right about him, that ultimately his fate was to go dark side, to lead the forces of Darkness in a bid for World dominance… Because, in reality, Dean was his Jiminy.
"Yes… Yes you can, Sam. But you have to give up your anger and resentment at what this life has cost you." Bobby explained. "It'll eat you alive; trust me I know from experience…" Bobby became obviously remorseful as he reminisced about his wife, about having to kill her because, so long ago, he knew no better. "In a way it's what the Trickster was trying to teach you. What we have to do now is focus on what Dean wanted us to do – go on living. You have to keep on living, and you have to let Dean die."
Sam glared at Bobby. "And you can do that?" He demanded.
"I hope so…" Bobby admitted tentatively, "…eventually."
Sam sat by Dean's bags. His weapon's bag lay open, revealing a shinning display of armaments. He'd cleaned and polished every last item, the smell of gun oil still strong. Sam caressed Dean's clothes, with an already dire longing to have Dean back. He could feel Dean's journal, lying along the side of his duffle. Sam eased it out and began to flip through the pages. As he scanned Dean's scrawl he began to hope there may be a message in amongst the words…
Sam's heart leapt up into his throat, momentarily, when he heard a low gravelly rumble entering the motel car park. At first Sam thought that maybe Dean had returned, however he quickly realized the sound was more akin to a motorbike than the Impala.
Both emotionally charged hunters were startled when there was a knock at the door. Sam reluctantly got to his feet to open it, half expecting to see the chamber maid again.
"What the hell do you want, Bitch?" Sam snarled at Ruby, as she hung her helmet on the handle bar of the Harley Davidson behind her.
"I'm here to help Dean." She quipped back with her usual haughtiness.
"Oh, yeah that's right, because you promised me you could do that. Didn't you? You deceiving, lying bitch!" Sam shouted at her, he really wasn't in any mood to play her games right now. Her choice of timing was about as bad as she could possible get. He should have know… even Dean had said it over and over… 'Demons lie!'
"Enough with the 'bitch routine', alright! You tryin' to fill Dean's shoes already?" She snapped back angrily.
Sam closed the door on her; almost before she managed to push it back open, far enough to speak to him.
"I might have an idea." She snarled back at him through the narrow crack. "To save Dean…"
The door opened, and she was met by the sight of the two, slightly worse for wear, hunters, glaring at her with daggers in their eyes.
"You're a little late aren't you?" Bobby stood by Sam's side with equal loathing at the manipulating demoness. Together they barred the door; neither had any inclination to ask her into the room.
"Well. It's kinda the only way the plan will work." She replied. "Where is he?" Ruby demanded impatiently as her attention scanned the dark room behind them for Dean... but there was zip.
"He's gone already!" Sam snapped at her.
"Gone? What? I thought he had a few more days…" Ruby sighed scrutinizing both hunters, looking for an unspoken answer.
Sam frowned angrily at her with bewilderment and resentment; however no response was forth coming.
"He's not, gone, gone, is he? Like… dead, gone?" She confirmed, sensing that Sam was angry, but not distraught, like she'd presumed he would be if Dean was really dead.
"No, he's just gone." Sam informed her, although he honestly didn't know for sure.
"And is he coming back?" She queried cautiously.
"No... I don't think so" Sam replied as he fingered Dean's amulet and ring firmly clasped in his hand. Although, truth be told; he was losing hope. If Dean had left without his only prized, personal possessions, he was gone, full stop.
"And you don't know where he's gone?" She continued.
"No." Sam snapped back angrily. Both he and Bobby shook their heads in unison, with implicit misery.
"Surely you must have some idea?" She queried.
"NO!" Sam repeated, as he turned his back to her and began to walk away.
"Listen missy, now's really not a good time. Why don't you just make yourself scarce, ok?" Bobby urged her as he backed away. "Be thankful Sam hasn't sent you back to where you belong already!"
"No! Sam, please!" She pleaded as Sam hunched back into the room. "I can help."
Sam turned around slowly, crossing his arm grimly and tilted his head, waiting with irritation for her to continue.
"I really think I can save him. But we need to find him." She explained as she tentatively entered their room. "Maybe he's gone somewhere… somewhere special?"
Sam furrowed his brows at her and gave an obvious sarcastic chuckle. "Yeah, that quaint, family fun spot from our happy little childhood, you mean?"
"Maybe. Could he have gone home?" Ruby speculated as she surveyed the luxurious but malodorous room. "And what the hell died in here?" She exclaimed, cringing her nose up in disgust at the 'day-after' stench.
"Huh! A… bottle of J B. But, no, Home, like in Lawrence? It isn't exactly a happy memory. The Impala and every back road and byway is his only home…" Sam snapped at her, hiding his intoxicated embarrassment behind the snarl. Even so, he was still not convinced by her latest tactics to get him on side, "…why don't you go look for him there?" He sniped at her scathingly. However, the feint glimmer of hope that she really could save Dean kept him firmly in place, waiting to hear her theory. It wouldn't be the first time she'd saved him; saved them both.
"What about your father's grave?" She queried, becoming frustrated at Sam's pigheadedness.
"He's been already, said his good byes." Sam snarled. "There's no way he'd want Dad to have a front row seat when he goes. Not when the Hell Hounds come. What's your plan?"
"In a minute… What about your mother's grave?" She persisted.
"Mom's grave?" Sam chortled angrily. "No! Let's just say it's an empty hole, he wouldn't go there."
"Look, Sam, I'm trying to help here." Ruby snapped at him angrily as she paced back and forth anxiously. "Don't you want to help Dean?"
"I'd do anything for Dean, and you know it!" Sam spat at her with loathing. "If you've come here to screw with me, I'll freaking kill you with my bare hands, just so I can feel the life throttled out of you!"
"I've never screwed with you Sam… Ever!" Ruby vowed. "Ok, I'm sorry I may have misled you about helping Dean, but, I honestly thought there may have been a way… I still think there may be a way…"
"To save him?" Bobby queried doubtfully. They'd come up empty on every theory. As far as Bobby was concerned saving Dean was a dead end road; a very dead end road.
"Yeah, well from the Crossroad Demon at least, not from himself and his own semi-suicidal reckless ways…" She tried to jest, however her jibe fell, like a lead balloon, into the silent abyss of loathing that currently spanned between them. "Please… I really think I can help him. Do you want my help or not?" She beseeched.
"Great!… only he's gone… gone off to die." Sam sighed angrily; definitely bad timing. "You're too late!"
"Sam surely…" She began.
"Look, he's packed everything up like he's planned to leave it all behind... for good!" Sam stifled his swelling anguish as he looked away from her. "He snuck out last night some time; in the Impala and… took off. He's cleaned and polished every last weapon in his duffle, he's packed his clothes and toiletries away – neatly no less! He's left his phone, and he's even left his journal behind. And damned if he hasn't left me the longest damned set of instructions on how to look after the Impala! He's taken care of everything, even left me these." Sam opened his hand to reveal Dean's amulet, and ring.
"Shit, so how much time have we got to find him? When exactly is his time up?" Ruby asked.
"Good question; we're not exactly sure." Bobby admitted. Although skeptical, he was interested in hearing her plan.
"So you don't know if he's… already?" She asked hesitantly.
"No." Sam muttered, almost so quietly she knew his answer more so by his down cast face than his words.
"Dean never said exactly when he made the deal." Bobby explained. "When I left him back in Cold Oak… Sam was, well…" Bobby put his hand tenderly on Sam's shoulder. "Sam you were stone, cold... Three days later you turn up on my door step, alive and in the flesh."
"Great, so there's a three day possibility?" Ruby queried anxiously.
"Yeah, maybe…" Bobby mused. "Today, tomorrow… maybe he's already…"
"What?... You mean?… So we could already be too late?" Ruby speculated.
Bobby shrugged his shoulders with uncertainty.
"And you have no idea where he's gone?" Ruby sighed as she ran the grave consequences through her mind. "Why… why would he want to do this alone?"
"Would you want your only family to witness what the Hell Hounds will do?" Bobby quipped at her. "Or risk the demonic pit bulls going after them too?"
Ruby gazed at Bobby. It had been a very long time since she had even contemplated her family; her birth family that is. Her father was a dirty, incestuous predator, and that's if he really was her biological father and her mother a down-trodden, over worked wench. Her three siblings had barely any regard for themselves, let alone another family member. She'd have enjoyed spectating their demise at the jaws of a Hell Hound! Her family was her driving force behind pursuing Witchcraft, and the luxurious benefits she could reap from her promise to Tammi. But she could see what Bobby was referring to. Dean wouldn't ever want his family… Sam, that is… at risk; not physically or emotionally.
"You must have some idea!" Ruby stated with waning enthusiasm.
"No! If he'd have wanted us to know where he was going, he'd have invited us." Sam snapped at her. "He could be anywhere."
"No, no he's not." Ruby stated emphatically. "He would have left you a clue."
"Why?" Sam snapped at her. "When he obviously doesn't want us to find him!"
"You telling me, he's gonna take off, to die, and not make sure the Impala's taken care of?" Ruby queried haughtily. "Cause he took the car right?"
Sam's glance snapped to Bobby, and they glared at each other with renewed hope. In their still semi-drunk, hung-over states neither had the wits to realize that for themselves. She was right. Dean would never take the Impala without making sure she'd be found, once the deed was done. He'd gone so far as to leave specific instructions on servicing his pride and joy; he would never just abandon her!
Sam and Bobby lunged towards Dean's pile of neatly stacked belongings whilst Ruby stood back and stared with amusement as the two grown men ripped through Dean's things like kids in an Easter egg hunt. However their frantic search was a haphazard desecration to Dean's careful and meticulous final task, rather than an examination of possible clues...
"STOP!" She snapped at them eventually. "We don't have time for this! Think, please. Think!" She scolded them. "If you knew Dean was dead already, what would you do? What is there, in his stuff that you would go to first?"
Sam gazed at her blankly. "I don't know, I've checked his journal, there's nothing. Not unless it's in code… and trust me that's just not Dean's thing!"
"Well what is Dean's thing?' Ruby urged.
Bobby grabbed John's journal, in a hasty search for clues to Dean's whereabouts. He truly hoped maybe Dean would have left them some indication as to where he had gone.
"Maybe he's mailed us something?" Sam speculated. "You know, counting on the postal services prompt delivery?"
"Well if he's done that there's not much point searching. By the time we get a postcard he'll be on the other side already." Bobby sighed as he slumped onto the bed with defeat. There was noting in John's journal to suggest where Dean had absconded to.
"Yeah…" Sam slouched on the bed beside Bobby. "Sure hope he's not expecting me to use a Ouija board…"
"So he'd count on you hanging around in the one place?" She prompted. "Seems to me he'd figure you'd be out driving every damned back road and byway searching for him. I still reckon he's left you something here, something he knows you won't find until it's done. But something you will definitely find!"
"Like what?" Sam sighed, almost heart broken once more.
"What is most important to him?" Ruby urged impatiently. They were like useless infants at the moment. She hoped it was only their intoxication that had dulled their wits so drastically, because if this was what they were truly like, as hunters, of demons, they would be completely hopeless! And Dean wouldn't stand a chance!
Sam held out Dean's amulet, and ring on the palm of his hand. "There are these… and the Impala."
"Has he written something on them?" She wondered. "Some clue?"
Sam scoured the items for any sign. "Nothing."
"There must be something else, the list for the car?" Ruby queried.
"We checked it already, nothing that doesn't just relate to looking after the car." Bobby sighed.
"And there was nothing else?" She frowned. "Some clue; a note, a message, a matchbook, a freaking photo? Anything he knew you'd check on, or find?"
"No it's just his… stuff." Sam replied. There was silence as the trio contemplated any other possible clues.
"There must be something he'd be relying on, something he knew would be important enough to him you'd find a message there." She urged, hoping her theory would spark some kind of solution to the conundrum of Dean's disappearance.
"Shit… Sam!" Bobby stated with enthusiasm, loudly enough that both Sam and Ruby jumped with enthusiasm.
"What?" Sam hoped the weathered hunter had finally cracked the puzzle.
"No, you Sam, you're the most important thing to Dean… you and that bloody car!" Bobby explained as his mind began to turn. "She's right, he'd have left something and he'd make sure you would find it. It wouldn't be in his stuff, it'd be in yours, Sam!"
"Well I haven't found anything." Sam rebutted angrily as he moved to his own duffle. In an odd twist of reality, it had actually been left in stark contrast to Dean's, items shoved in haphazardly and arbitrarily; just like Dean's would usually have been. He hadn't actually searched it, but nothing had presented itself, he hadn't found a sign as yet! He opened up his duffle, and rummaged through his belongings. Frustrated, he tossed item, after item onto the floor until he was ripping at clothes and toiletries alike with a frenzied desperation. Until he finally pulled out his own journal. He flipped through the pages, identifying every message and notation, most of which were his own. There were some scrawls there, made by Dean; the occasional lurid and sexually explicit notations, but most of which were months, even years old, when Dean had been Dean. But, there was nothing giving any indication of where he had gone. There were no concealed notes or clues at all.
The trio fell into another uncomfortable silence again as they contemplated what meager avenues of possibilities they had left.
"Sammy!" Bobby exclaimed as he thought of a prospect. "Check your phone and your laptop!" Bobby reached, with optimism, for Dean's phone.
Sam ripped his cell from his pocket, hoping Dean had sent him a message, or left him a voice mail. But again there was nothing. Bobby shook his head when he found nothing stored in Dean's cell either.
Then Sam flipped his laptop open, where it sat on the small dining table. A small light in the corner reminded Sam he had a scheduled meeting coming up. Sam eagerly brought up the appointments screen. Quickly a smile of desperate hope plastered across his face. "Damn him!" Sam sighed as he turned the screen around to show both Bobby and Ruby his findings.
Under the next day's date, Dean had left a solitary message: 'Lloyd's Bar'.
"Figures…" Bobby muttered as he shook his head at their clumsy search; he should have realized it would be Sam's laptop from the start. "That damned laptop is to you, what the Impala is to Dean!"
"Lloyd's Bar… It makes sense! It's where we first met her." Sam informed them. "The Crossroad's Demon."
"You think that's where he's gone? It's not just a… reminder… of when time's up?" Ruby queried.
"I don't think he'd need to set a reminder for that date." Sam snarled. It would have been etched into Dean's memory like a blazing neon sign, and even Dean knew Sam didn't need a reminder.
"Can you tell me exactly where Lloyd's Bar is?" Ruby queried anxiously as she contemplated their choices.
"Just out of Greenwood, Mississippi." Sam replied. "It's a good day's drive from here though."
"That doesn't give us much time…" Ruby muttered as she checked her wristwatch. It was almost 11.30am.
"Look, seriously Ruby, you've been stringing me along for so long, don't do this to me now. Don't let me hope when there is none!" Sam pleaded.
"Then don't hope… just do!" She stated. "You know of any secluded places we can lure the demon and his minions to? Things will probably get messy, and a bunch of civilians caught in the cross fire will just complicate things."
"By lure, you mean you're planning on using Dean as bait?" Sam grunted with condemnation.
"Look, Sammy, I'm not the one who sold his soul and his life to a demon; he did that all on his own." Ruby snapped back. "I'm just trying to get it back, so if he has to be dangled on a piece of string… Then yeah! Bait! Or if you prefer we can just let him be doggy chow instead!"
"You want to tell us what you have planned?" Bobby demanded, still not persuaded to entirely trust her.
"Fine! The way I see it, Dean's only chance may be to draw out whoever owns his contract." Ruby informed them.
"And?" Sam queried.
"And kill their sorry ass!" Ruby replied. As far as she was concerned that was a given!
"I tried that already." Sam sighed. "Not as easy as you may think."
"I don't see how you could ever have any idea what I 'm thinking, Sam." Ruby rebuked irately.
"Look, I tried summoning the Crossroad demon, and she came and she pretty much told me she didn't… couldn't… She wasn't the one who held the contract." Sam snapped at her. "She wouldn't tell me who did."
"No, and from what I hear, she never will either…" Ruby glared accusingly at Sam, knowing that he'd killed her, and possibly exasperated Dean's situation rather than helping it. "But I kinda have an insider's advantage in that area." Ruby pursed at him.
"You know who the Crossroads demon's boss is?" Bobby queried.
"Maybe, there are a few possibilities, but I have a fair idea." Ruby nodded. "Crossroads aren't an exclusive domain. That playground entices quite a few. Hecate, Bhairava, Eshu even… But there's some prefer it more than others. Just how did you summon the Crossroad's wench?" She queried Sam.
"Umm… a photo… black cat bones and cemetery dirt." Sam admitted to Ruby, under Bobby's intense scrutiny. He still couldn't condone the Winchester's fascination for summoning the likes of a demon to do their bidding…
"Ok… Then it could be Eshu or Legba, but my money's on Kalfu. But, in the end, it doesn't really matter." Ruby smiled with relief.
"Eshu, Legba…. Kalfu?" Bobby frowned. "Hoodoo deity?"
"Well yeah! Cat's bones and cemetery dirt… Mississippi… definitely Hoodoo…" Ruby smiled smugly.
"You really think this can work?" Sam questioned her.
She nodded. "Yeah… If we can stave off the hounds long enough… and any wenches he may send, then hopefully we'll piss him off enough he'll come himself to collect his prize: who ever he is!"
"I suppose it just might work..." Bobby mused. "It's not gonna be considered reneging is it?" He glanced at Sam. How could he ever pick between the two brothers, and even worse, how could he live with himself if his attempts to save one cost the other his life instead?
"What, a little chase?" Ruby mocked. "Bastard will probably enjoy the thrill of the hunt!"
"So, somewhere secluded?" Bobby queried, his mind ticking over the task at hand.
"Yeah, some place you can secure and fortify, keep them out, keep you safe." She replied. "If you know of a place."
"There's an old deserted town…" Bobby suggested tentatively. "Doctrine Springs, Arkansas. Supposed to be haunted... But definitely secluded, and not a civilian for 20 miles! Just the other side of the state line."
"Yeah, I know the place…" Ruby nodded as she exited their room, casting her head over her shoulder as she left. "And it's not as deserted as you may think."
"Its not?" Sam queried, following the demoness outside as she strode back out to her bike, with Bobby on their tails.
"No." Ruby stated, quite adamantly with a grin, as she mounted her bike. "But I'm sure you can deal with a few spooks too, if you get time. Most important, though, is to prepare. The church will be a good start. I'll meet you there once I find Dean."
"No! No, you won't!" Sam objected. "I'm going with you!"
"No, you're not. It's quicker for me to find him, alone!" She rebuked sternly. "We don't have much time as it is. You and Bobby need to make sure the church is impenetrable to both Hell Hounds and Demons. Besides, Sam, you reek…"
"So I'll chew a breath mint!" Sam glared at her momentarily. "What precautions? It'd be holy ground wouldn't it?" Sam objected.
"And you think that will stop them?" Ruby quipped as she chuckled mockingly. "Sam, of all people, you should know better! Holy water didn't even affect Azazel; you think holy ground will make a difference to a high caliber demon? Of course a few gallons of holy water wouldn't go astray over you…" She smirked, "… and a bar of soap."
"I'll change my shirt!" Sam snapped at her. "What then? Goofer dust?"
"It'd be a good start." Ruby replied, to both counts. She was eager to be on her way. She kick started her Harley and pulled her helmet back on. "And maybe a good old fashioned Devil's trap! I'm sure Bobby knows of a few mojo mixes that could come in handy..."
"I know a guy; can help us get what we need." Bobby muttered. "On our way through…"
As she revved her bike and prepared to leave, Ruby, suddenly stopped. "Let me have the Colt." She demanded impatiently of Bobby, who remained in the doorway, his eyes fixed on their last remaining shred of hope.
"What? You're kidding aren't you?" Bobby gruffed. "After all it took to get it back from Bela?"
"You want me to try and save Dean or not, because if you've got any better ideas by all means get your asses into gear and go do it!" She snapped. "It's not like I can fend of a Hell Hound with my bare hands!"
"She has a point…" Sam muttered.
"Sam, this may have been her plan all along!" Bobby objected, glaring at Ruby. "Is that what you wanted from the start, the Colt?"
"You're kidding, right?" Ruby snapped at him.
"I doubt it Bobby." Sam interrupted. "She's the one who got it working in the first place. She could have killed you for it back then if she really wanted it. Please Bobby, this is for Dean." He pleaded.
When Bobby remained hesitant Sam reached out to Bobby. "I'll take it then! I'm going with her!" He stated sternly.
"Sam?" Bobby protested.
"Bobby, Dean's not gonna trust her, he never has…" Sam explained.
Sam was obviously torn between reason and emotion. He wanted nothing more than to go after Dean, because he still didn't fully trust her… and, he feared, neither would Dean! He ducked back inside and grabbed a new shirt out of his duffle and a packet of chewing gum from Dean's.
"Sam no…" Ruby interjected. "Dean trusts me… really." She called to him impatiently. At least, as much as Dean could ever trust a demon at any rate. But now wasn't really the time to reveal the little heart to heart she'd had with Dean, where she'd revealed more than just a little about herself and his future to the eldest Winchester. And, more importantly, much to Sam's anger, a shit load about what was going on about him. She knew Dean had appreciated her honesty, even if wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.
"If you want the Colt, then you'll have to take me with you!" Sam demanded stubbornly when he returned, pulling on his new t-shirt.
"Sam, no…" She began to protest.
"It's me and the Colt, or nothing!" Sam demanded.
"You mean its Dean's eternal ever after…" She snapped back. However Sam refused to back down.
"Then I'll go alone." He snapped. "I can take down a Hell Hound."
"Yeah, especially one you won't be able to see or hear!" She rebuked. "That's one I'll have over you Sam. I can see and hear them!"
"I'll manage!" Sam snapped as he stated to march towards Bobby's pickup.
Ruby stood her ground and shook her head. "And how's Bobby gonna get to Doctrine Springs?" She queried with obvious cynicism. Sam stopped short, realizing she effectively held all the cards. They needed to leave now, and even if he was to steal one of the 'not quite choice' vehicles currently parked in the motel car park, he'd be chewing up precious time. Time Dean may well not have! He was almost about to concede defeat when Ruby interrupted his defiant act.
"Look fine. Come with me. But only if you bring the Colt!" She demanded. "And stay outta my way!"
"Thank you." Sam sighed as he tossed a piece of gum theatrically into his mouth and smirked confidently.
"Ok. But we'd betted be getting it back, sweet heart!" Bobby snarled at Ruby. He pulled it out from his waist band, where, since Bela had snatched it from under their noses, he'd taken to hiding it. Getting the damned pistol back had been no easy task and he wasn't about to let anyone else get their hands on it.
"You can handle things, can't you Bobby?" Sam queried quietly as Bobby passed him the Colt.
"Well… yeah." Bobby nodded as he whispered. "Don't quite trust her myself…"
Sam checked that the Colt was loaded, and then shoved it down his own jeans waist band. Bobby handed him extra rounds of his specially cast and blessed silver bullets, all that he had cast.
"Great, Bobby's got it all under control. He knows what to do better than I do." Sam remarked with confidence to Ruby. "But Dean's never gonna trust you, no matter how good your plan is. Besides Mississippi's a big state and I know exactly where to go!"
Sam leapt down the steps and mounted the motorbike behind her, wrapping his arms firmly about her waist in a defiant show that she wasn't going anywhere without him. She pulled her helmet back on, with obvious irritation. "You'd best hold on… and put the other helmet on." She smirked at him. "And just so you know… I'll be taking that Colt once we get there!"
Sam begrudgingly pulled the second helmet on, barely keeping his seat behind her as she spun the bike around.
"See you…" She called to Bobby as she revved the Harley and raced down the gravel road, kicking up stone and dust in her wake. Sam had to tighten his grip, just to stay seated. Bobby stood and watched them leave with mounting trepidation. They were headed for one hell of a show down, provided Ruby and Sam could find Dean in time…
"See you." He muttered in response, as he turned around, returning inside to pack, whilst berating himself for not having thought of a similar plan. It was relatively simple and logical; of course demons didn't always follow such earth bound fundamentals, but it was still a viable chance. If not their last and only hope.
TBC