**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This isn't the best thing I've written but I enjoyed writing it. Now I know once many of you finish this you're probably going to be angry with me. I just ended the story how the folktale ended. And as you will see when reading it most of the characters don't actually know each other. I have places everyone in the role that best works for them according to what they do in the actual series and in what they provide in this story. I hope you enjoy this and just have fun seeing many characters who are no longer alive in the series. -Sarah**
He was a soldier against evil. For years he'd crossed the country fighting what seemed like a never ending battle. But, finally, he could go home. Dean walked down the long, lonesome road making his way back. For weeks he had been walking, taking rides whenever he could find them. His trusty Impala had long since bit the dust.
By this time he had been in the middle of nowhere for well over a day. He was tired, hungry, and he hurt everywhere. A hand in his pocket he felt the three meager items of food: three cookies he'd gotten from a vending machine two days ago. He wasn't sure how long until the next store so he wanted to save them until the very last.
With a sigh he pressed the rewind button on his walkman for the thousandth time. When it was done he played the cassette that was inside. Scratchy, whining electric guitars filtered through the earpieces into his head, covering up the heavy silence. Unfortunately, moments later the music began to slow and the voices to distort. He opened the walkman and took the tape out. He'd just put new batteries in only a few hours before so it couldn't be them. The cassette seemed fine but when he tried playing it again the distortion continued. With a new sigh of frustration he mashed the stop button and pocketed the walkman.
The sun was high and harsh when Dean came around a bend in the road and saw a man sitting under a meager shade tree by the side of the road. He was leaned back against the tree, his hands crossed over his stomach, appearing to be asleep. As Dean got closer he saw the man's black hair with light peppering at the temples and in the beard and mustache. The man wore a dusty blue jacket and black shirt under it. His jeans were worn and grimy and his boots scuffed.
Dean paused a moment and looked up at the sky, shading his hazel-green eyes. It was getting hotter by the minute and he still had a long walk, he was sure. Nearing the tree he cleared his throat. "'Scuse me," he began and the man lazily opened his brown-hazel eyes then sat up with a groan.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice quiet and deep.
"Yeah, uh, I was wondering if it'd be alright if I shared your shade?" Dean motioned to the tree.
"I don't see why not," the man replied and hefted himself over a bit, allowing Dean enough room in the shade.
Dean took a seat and leaned back against the tree and the man followed suit. Slowly, Dean relaxed and closed his eyes, falling into a short slumber.
When he awoke the sun had moved and the heat was beginning to wear off. He stood and dusted off his pants. The man opened one eye to peer at him.
"Thanks for letting me sit a while," Dean said.
"Not a problem."
Dean was about to move on but he noticed it seemed that the man had nothing with him. He reached in his pocket and pulled out one of the cookies. It was the least he could do. The man nodded his head in thanks and took the cookie.
"Much appreciated," he said then his eyes flicked to the walkman peeking out of Dean's other pocket. "I see I'm not the only one not ready to update with the times," he said nodding to the walkman.
Dean chuckled and pulled out the device. "How else am I supposed to listen to my tapes? Course, my only tape messed up so it's silent for now."
"Well, here," the man said and began digging in his pockets. He pulled out a tape and handed it to him. "Not sure if it's what you're into, but I would think something's better than nothing."
Dean looked at the lable and smirked when he saw AC/DC written on it. "Thanks, man, this is perfect." He nodded and used the tape to tip an imaginary hat. As he put the tape into the walkman he said, "Say, you don't happen to know how far it is to Lawrence, do you?"
"Lawrence?" he repeated, idly scratching one side of his jaw. "Go down that road and when you hit the fork, take the right. You should be there sometime tomorrow evening if you walk the whole way."
With a nod Dean said, "Alright, thanks again...I didn't get your name." Dean held out his hand.
"John," the man said as he grasped Dean's hand and they shook.
"Thanks, John."
"You're welcome. Safe journey," John said and waved to Dean as the younger man walked on down the road.
Hours later Dean came shambling down the road, listening to his music near full blast, trying to drown out his mind telling him his feet and knees were in need of a rest. Finally he could stand it no more and sat down heavily on a small incline next to the road.
"Hello," a deep voice said nearby, causing Dean to jump. He hadn't noticed anyone else out on the road.
He looked in the direction of the voice and saw a lean man in a wrinkled suit with a blue tie, wearing a tan trenchcoat despite the warm weather. His hair was neatly brushed over on one side and down on the other and his blue eyes were intense as they studied him in turn.
"Sorry, I didn't see anyone else here," Dean said as his heart slowed back to normal.
"Quite alright. What brings you all the way out here?" the man asked deliberately.
"I'm heading home."
"Been away long?"
"Longer than I wanted."
"Sounds like you have quite a story to tell."
Dean scoffed. "You could say that."
"Would you mind telling it to me?"
Dean looked at the man for a long moment. "You wouldn't believe me if I did."
The man shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not, but I bet it's entertaining and I could use some of that at the moment."
"You're sure you wanna hear my story?" Dean asked.
"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." The man smiled serenely as he answered.
Taking a deep breath Dean began to talk. Before he knew it, he was spilling everything and he wasn't sure why. Maybe he just couldn't hold onto it any longer, or maybe he somehow felt close to this stranger. Either way when he was done some time later he felt lighter.
By this time the light was between that of full bright and full dark. Dean knew he had to get going. As he stood he winced.
"Is there something wrong?" the man asked.
"Nah, it's nothing," Dean said with a wave of his hand.
"You appear to be in pain, though," the man continued.
"I'm alright, really. It's just my knees. Hard life, you know?"
"You deserve better knees, then," he said with a strange look in his eyes.
"Yeah, well, what can you do, right?" he chuckled. Then it occurred to him that it was well past dinner time and neither of them had eaten. He couldn't stay any longer and eat with the man, but he figured he could at least spare one of his cookies. He pulled the second one out of his pocket. "I don't know if you've eaten recently, but here." He handed the stranger the cookie.
The man took it slowly then looked back at Dean. "Thank you. What's your name?"
"Dean."
"My name is Castiel. Thank you for the cookie and the story. Your company was very welcomed." He smiled warmly at Dean.
"You're welcome. Well I have to go. You take care of yourself, Cas." He waved as he walked on.
He was surprised to find that with every step he took the pain in his joints eased until he felt as good as newborn baby. He stopped and reached down to grab one knee with a wide smile and a disbelieving laugh. "Well I'll be," he said to himself.
The light had been gone for hours and Dean was yawning. His stomach was rumbling loudly now and he thought now would be as good a time as any to eat his last cookie. The wrapper crinkled as he pulled the food from his pocket an began to open it up and take a bite when he heard a strange sound.
He stopped and looked up. Some ways ahead was a figure sitting in a wheelchair under the only streetlamp for a good ways. The sound came again and Dean recognized it as the shuffling of cards. His foot steps souned loudly on the quiet road as he approached the wheelchair bound man.
The man was hunched over a tray attached to the arm rest of the chair as his arms moved, gathering cards to shuffle again. Despite the dark outside of the cone of light, the man wore a ballcap. Getting nearer Dean saw that the man also wore a plaid shirt with a near flat and ragged zip-up vest. On his wheelchair hung a beaten backpack which looked to be empty judging by it's deflated-looking state.
"Uh, sir, are you alright? Do you need any help?" Dean asked when he was close enough. He was sure he was still miles from the nearest town and this man couldn't possibly be up to getting anywhere before light. He couldn't possibly be safe out here.
"Do I look like I need help?" the man grumbled as he shuffled the cards and dealt them.
Dean was now near enough to see that the man was old enough to be his father and the tray and the cards placed upon it. He was amazed to see that the man had laid out the first thirteen cards and they were all in order. Then he watched as the man shuffled and dealt again and it was the same, but a different suit.
Forgetting about his worry for the man Dean exclaimed, "Whoa! How'd you do that?"
"Magic cards," the man said shortly as he shuffled and dealt again. "Dealer never loses with these cards." He stopped then and looked up at Dean. "You're a long way from anywhere," he said.
"I could say the same to you."
"Yeah, well..." he briefly took in his wheelchair with his eyes.
"Are you sure you don't need help? I'm on my way to Lawrence. I could help push you to the nearest town on my way."
"Ah don't fuss over me, I can handle myself." He eyed Dean up and down then said, "But you look like you could use a little help. Here, take these." He gathered the cards and stuffed them back into their little box then handed it to Dean.
"No, I couldn't," Dean said taking a step back, waving both hands in front of himself.
"I'm not asking," the man said gruffly and jiggled the pack of cards at the younger man.
Dean reached out and took the cards, looking at them and turning them over a few times before depositing them into his back pocket. He wasn't used to receiving things for nothing. It didn't sit right with him. With an inward, resigned sigh he took the cookie that was in his hand and broke it in half.
"Here, this is my last cookie. I was going to eat it but I'll share it with you." He started to hand him half the cookie then stopped. This man had given him something without anything for it first, he couldn't just give him half. He'd be alright until the next town. Dean handed over the entire cookie.
"Thanks," the man said as he took the cookie halves. He took a small bite of one and chewed it thoughtfully, watching Dean. After he swallowed he reached around and took the bag off his wheelchair. He tossed it to Dean. "Here, you can have this as well, for your being so nice."
"It's a backpack," Dean said, looking at the ragged thing.
"Well ain't you Mr. Smarty Pants," the man mocked. "That's a magic bag there, idgit. Anything you tell to get in it has no choice but to get in. And don't let its size fool you, it'll fit more 'n you think."
"I can't take this, you already gave me the magic cards-"
"Quit being modest and just take the damn thing, let someone be nice to you every one in a while."
"Alright," Dean said slowly. "Thanks, mister."
"Name's Bobby," he said then mumbled something about mister making him sound too old.
"Right, thanks, Bobby."
"Now get on out of here, you got quite a ways to go still."
Dean nodded and turned and began again down the road.
The next day Dean made it to the next town. The smell of food was strong as his stomach rumbled. Unfortunately he had no money to pay. He took a seat on a bench near a walk up burger joint. He was unbearably hungry.
The longer he sat there, the louder his stomach growled. There had to be a way to talk the vendor out of some food. He thought and thought until an idea hit him. He had that ratty old backpack. Bobby had said it was magic. Maybe he ought to give it a try.
He waited until he saw his chance. The worker set a large order of burgers and fries in a bag on the shelf outside the window. The customer was about to take them when they seemed to have forgotten to order something else. As the worker turned to enter the order into the cash register and the customer turned to get their money from their wallet, Dean quickly said, "Uh, burgers and fries...get into my bag?" He felt ridiculous but the feeling didn't last long. The entire bag lifted up and shot straight into the backpack. He got up and bolted instead of wating to see the reaction of the customer and burger worker.
He made his way out of town and on toward Lawrence, enjoying his meal from the magic bag as he left. The sign for Lawrence loomed closer as dark set in, just like John had told him.
When he reached the nearest place renting rooms he saw it was an inn with a little bar attached that served food. He stopped into the office and rang the bell on the counter.
A woman in her late 40s to early 50s came in from the next room. She had shoulder length brown hair and wore a jean jacket over a brown t-shirt and blue jeans.
"What can I do for you?" she asked.
"Well...Ellen," Dean said as he read her nametag. "I am in a sort of predicament. I need a place to stay but don't have any money at the moment. Would you care to let me work for my room and some dinner, possibly breakfast as well?" He smiled the most charming smile he could muster.
Ellen gave him a look. Clearly she wasn't one to be charmed by his dimple and pearly whites. "Sure, I'll accept some work," she said, surprising him. "But you'll definitely be earning your keep. Come on back and I'll show you what needs doin'." She waved him behind the counter and he followed her.
"I'm short-handed at the moment and you look near my daughter's age so I took pity on you, but the moment I see you slacking I'll boot your other end outta here. And don't go trying to charm my daughter while you're here. She don't need a vagabond with nothing to his name takin' an interest in her. She's gonna do well for herself."
Dean made a face behind Ellen at her tirade but smiled quickly when she stopped and turned to him.
"I need the floor swept and mopped. Then I need the trash taken out and the cardboard put in the bailer in the back. I'll show you where everything is. Then I'll need you to wash and dry the dishes. We don't have a fancy machine here to do it so don't dilly dally. I expect things done by two hours after closing. We're done at one.
"If you want breakfast I'll ask you to go into the laundry and pull the wet linens into the dryer and throw the dirty linens in the wash. Instructions on taped to the wall behind the machines. I don't care if you do that well after we closed but I expect to see at least two clean and dry loads sitting in the bins to be folded when I get up in the morning, you got that?"
"Yes, ma'am," Dean replied.
Ellen took Dean into the storeroom and gave him the broom and set him to work in the bar.
While he swept he noticed a cute little blonde sitting in a corner by herself. She kept looking at him, too. By the time he was halfway done with mopping the floor he was near the woman's table. She was slowly eating on a plate of fries, a textbook open on the table in front of her. She looked up and grinned at him.
"Working for your meal?" the woman asked.
"How'd you know?"
"Oh I'm here quite often and I don't recall seeing your face before. Besides, she takes pity on a lot of folk."
"I see." He leaned in conspiritorially. "Is her bite as bad as her bark?"
The woman laughed and leaned in, waiting a moment for emphasis. "Worse." She leaned back and laughed at Dean's serious expression. "Don't worry, she's a big ol' softy if you know how to work her."
"And you know, do you?" Dean grinned.
"Of course, I spent my whole life figuring it out."
Dean's smile faded. "You're her daughter, aren't you?"
"Sure am. I'm Jo," she said, holding out her hand.
Dean immediately moved on wihtout shaking the gir's hand, keeping a lookout for Ellen.
When he was done with his chores he found a plate waiting for him on a table with a note and a room key next to it.
Thanks for working so hard. Here's your meal and the key to your room. Wash the plate when you're done.
-Ellen
Dean scarfed down the burger and fries and took the plate to the back to wash. After that he found his way to the laundry and stood there reading the directions before starting on the linen.
Later Dean opened his door to find a quaint little room with a twin-sized bed, a 10 inch television, a bathroom with just a standing shower, and a small, round table with a single chair by the window.
He walked in and shut and locked the door then threw himself on the bed with a sigh. It felt like an eternity since he'd slept on an actual bed. Kicking off his biker boots he relished in the air on them. He'd been walking for so long that he'd pretty much never taken his shoes off. For a moment he thought about a shower but he was too tired to do much else at the moment. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath, relaxing. Then he heard a faint noise.
Sitting up he breathed slowly in order to better hear. Then the noise happened again. It sounded like something far off crashing. It was followed by distant whooping and hollaring. The sound was so faint that Dean determined it must be coming from somewhere outside.
Curiosity piqued, Dean stood with a sigh and went to the window, opening the curtains and peering outside. For a while nothing happened. All the sounds had stopped. Just about the time he decided it was nothing, he saw a flash of light in a window of a run down building just down the street. From what he could see, the building had a chain link fence topped with barbed wire and signage on the fence. It was obviously abandoned.
He watched for a while longer and was rewarded with a few more flashes of light in the windows and more crashing and yelling coming from the building. With a shake of his head and a snort he closed the curtains, thinking it must be teenagers messing around. He turned and crawled into bed on his stomach and passed quickly into sleep.
A knock on the door woke Dean the next morning. He yawned and stretched as he stood. Scrubbing his hair as he made his way to the door. Upon opening it he saw Ellen standing there with a to-go box.
"I let you sleep a little longer. You missed breakfast so I brought you some." She nudged her way in and set the food on the little table by the window.
"Thanks," Dean said appreciatively. He sat down in the chair and opened the container, looking happily at the food within. Ellen stood there studying him a minute.
"You planning on moving on today?" She asked finally.
"Yup." Dean shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, groaning contentedly.
"Well if you'd care for a little lunch before you leave I'd be happy to provide it for a little more work. You know anything about maintenence?"
"Some."
"Good. We have a few things needs fixin' around here. Would love the help."
"Alright, I'll take a look at them after I get cleaned up."
Ellen left him to his meal after that.
The water was hot and relaxing when Dean stepped into the shower. He let it run over his neck and back at first, just enjoying the sensation as knots in his muscles there began to loosen.
When he stepped out of the shower later, he knew he' d taken longer than he should have and that Ellen could possibly be pissed. He hurried drying off and getting dressed then made his way to the bar where he thought he might find the woman.
Instead, Jo was there at the counter eating her lunch and reading her textbook like the night before.
"Studying?" Dean asked.
"Yup. Taking classes at the local community college, whoopee," she added sarcastically.
"I, uh, take it you're not interested in college?" He leaned his hip against the counter.
"Not at all. My mom wants me to major in business so I can take this dump over when she retires. Like I want to spend the rest of my life catering to the losers who end up in this place. Dean made a face and Jo gave him a lopsided, apologetic smile. "No offense."
"None taken," he said with a shrug. "I suppose I could be called a loser. I don't got much to show for my life, but I don't suppose I regret much."
"Dean?" Ellen popped her head into the bar, beckoning him with a stern gaze. Dean jumped to, leaving a chuckling Jo behind him.
"The sink in the kitchen has been messed up for ages. I've fixed it myself a few times but the same problem just keeps happening. I figured I'd get some fresh perspective on it, if you don't mind," she explained on their way to the kitchen.
"Nah, should be easy."
"That's what I said."
They passed by a window that offered a view of the abandoned building down the way and Dean couldn't help but ask, "That run down building down there..."
"Yeah? What about it?"
"Well, it seems to be a popular place for the kids to hang out, right?"
Ellen stopped in her tracks and turned to him, hands on her hips. "What makes you say that?"
"Oh, well, it's just I heard some noises coming from there last night and saw some lights in there."
"Huh."
"'Huh'? Huh, what?"
"Nothing, it's crazy."
"Nah go ahead, tell me," he urged.
"Well, no one goes there anymore on account of a few of them have gone missing over the years."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it was a popular hang out spot for the kids not long after it was condemned, but then, one day, teens started not making it back home. No one thought too much of it, thinking the ones gone missing were considered runaways, but then a whole group of 'em went missing after they made a trip to the place one night. No one dares go in there now, afraid something's in there. Ever since then townfolk hear things coming from that building around midnight. A lot of yelling and laughing and things breaking. People have set up cameras all around the place from time to time to try and catch something but they never see anything. No one coming or going. Now folk say it's haunted, won't go near it."
"I see," Dean replied, his thoughts racing.
Well after Dean had fixed the sink and gotten his meal, he made his way to the abandoned building with his things and a few others he procurred just in case. It wasn't quite midnight yet but he wanted to scope the place out before jumping right in.
He slipped between the padlocked gates and went up to the building, seeing where people had broken the lock on the building itself. He pulled open the door and went inside.
The place was large and decrepit. Many of the windows had been busted out, parts of the ceiling were missing, bits of furniture were strewn every where, most of it broken into pieces. There was a ring of mess in the center of the building. It was obvious that most of the action took place there.
On the other floors the sight was much the same but it seemed these floors hadn't really been visited in some time. He made his way back to the main floor and took a seat by the circle, popping his earpieces in and turning on his walkman.
Hours passed when Dean finally heard something. He turned off his music and put the earpieces away. When he looked up he nearly jumped at the sight of a few individuals all sitting around the circle.
The overwhelming scent of sulphur made Dean's nostrils flare. He choked and coughed out, "Demons."
"Bravo," said a male demon in a spiffy suit with a small clap of his hands. "Not many know what we are." His English accent wasn't very thick but it was definitely noticeable and his voice was somewhat raspy. "You're obviously human," he said, looking Dean up and down. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to check out what all the commotion was up here. I heard the noise from my room last night."
"That would be Meg, she doesn't like losing," the male demon said as he smirked at a dark haired female demon.
"I wouldn't get so pissed off if you didn't cheat all the fucking time!" Meg growled.
"Oh come off it, sweetheart, you cheat, too!"
"Forget about the cheating you guys! What the hell is a human doing here?" spat another dark haired female demon, but this one had straight hair where Meg's was a little wavey.
"Oh shut it, Ruby, what does it matter? We haven't had a meal come to us in a while," the male demon said, turning his grin on Dean.
"The name's Crowley, by the way. Care to share yours?"
"Dean," he replied stiffly.
"Ah, Dean, lovely. Well we are here for a little bit of relaxing. You see being demons isn't all it's cracked up to be. No, we like to have ourselves a bit of leisure time. It does a body good to have a bit of fun once in a while."
"And what kind of fun would that be?" Dean wasn't sure he really wanted to know but he just wanted to keep them talking.
"Oh, a little bit of gambling," Crowley replied and with a wave of his hand a horde of treasure appeared behind him. "Though, tonight it looks like we get to play for more than just money. What do you say?"
Dean's eyes flicked from demon to demon, looking as if he was unsure, but then he smiled and said, "Why not."
"This should be fun," Ruby said.
"Perfect. We'll play for your soul, then, but we'll make this interesting," said Crowley. "Instead of losing all at once we will allow you to lose a bit of yourself one piece at a time. Of course, we won't be rude and take you literally piece by piece-"
Meg whined, but Crowley continued, "No, we'll collect when we've won every bit of you as well as your soul. Any time you win, you get the money on the table. Sound fair?"
"Sure, why not?
"Perfect." Crowley pulled out a deck of cards but Dean stopped him.
"Since it's my soul I'm losing, you won't deny me the wish of using my own deck, would you?" He pulled the deck from his back pocket and set it on the table.
"I don't see any harm in that." Crowley shrugged.
Dean pulled the cards out and shuffled. "Let's get this party started." As he said those words, Crowley snapped his fingers and beers appeared all around.
"Let's," he said with a wicked grin.
The night wore on and with each hand Dean won more and more money. The three demons grew increasingly agitated with their losses until, finally, around day break after Dean had won the last bit of money Meg stood with a curse.
"You have to be cheating!" she blamed.
"Couldn't be, I've been cheating all night and I'm still losing," Crowley said, though the look on his face said he wasn't very happy either.
"Look, ladies- and gentleman," Dean added with a look at Crowley, "Let's not make accusations here."
Then Ruby grabbed the deck and quickly dealt a hand. As she picked up her cards she smiled and threw them down for all to see. "The deck's magicked. Dealer never loses," she said succintly with a huff as she crossed her arms.
The demons bore down on him and Dean quickly threw the backpack in the center of the circle. Everyone stopped and looked at it quizzically.
"What the hell is that" Meg asked, pointing at the bag.
"It's a backpack you moron," Ruby answered.
"I know it's a backpack, skank, I mean, what is he doing with it?"
"Oh that's not just any backpack," Dean said with a satisfied quirk to his lips. "That's a magic backpack. He looked around and noted the apprehensive look on Ruby's face, the unbelieving expression on Crowley's, and the incredulous one on Meg's.
"Yeah?" Meg said, with a little laugh. "And how does it work, then, huh?"
"It's very simple, you see," Dean answered casually as he picked up the bag and held it opened toward the demons. "Whatever I tell to get in the bag has to get in it."
Meg snorted and Dean smiled even more. "Oh don't let its size fool you, it holds more than you think. For instance, get in the bag, all of you."
For a split second nothing happened and the three demons began to laugh, but then in went Ruby, screaming. Next Crowley then Meg. Dean quickly zipped the bag up and slipped it onto his shoulder and carried it outside, the bag heaving and screaming as the demons tried to escape.
Dean took it to a small fountain nearby and pulled out a rosary he'd borrowed from a man at the inn he'd seen praying with it. Now he quickly blessed the water, throwing the rosary into it, then proceeded to toss the bag into the water. The inhabitants screamed louder as the water soaked through the backpack.
He pulled them out after a few minutes. "You gonna tell me what happened to those kids you took?"
"We ate them!" he heard Meg hiss. "They were delicious!"
Dean threw the bag back into the water. Steam rose from the bag as the demons' anguished voices resounded. Dean pulled the bag from the water a second time.
"Now I know you didn't kill all those kids. What did you do with them?"
"Ate them slowly!" Ruby gasped.
Dean tsk'd and threw the bag back in the water for a third time, letting them stew even longer this time. When he pulled the bag out again he asked a third time what had been done to the kids.
This time Crowley responded. "Alright, alright! We did eat a few of the kids but the rest are stored somewhere safe."
"And where is that?"
"Let us out and I'll tell you."
Dean thought on this for a moment and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a glove marked with a small devil's trap. He opened the bag carefully. Meg and Ruby fell out and were gone in the blink of an eye, but Crowley came out much more decorously and Dean quickly grabbed Crowley by the wrist.
"Oh bloody hell," Crowley sighed as he looked down at Dean's gloved hand.
"That's right, now tell me where the kids are and maybe I'll let you go," Dean said sternly.
Crowley rolled his eyes but gave up the information. "Now will you let me go?"
"Not yet," Dean said, a thought quickly forming. "Not until you agree to my conditions."
"And what are those?"
"You three and all those like you are to stop with the kidnapping and eating, you got that? If I hear of anything I'll be there with my bag and you won't like what comes next."
"Alright, alright, deal-"
"That's not all. I might need a favor down the road, I want you at my beck and call when I do."
At first, Dean didn't think Crowley was going to agree and he readied the bag to put him back in.
Seeing the bag, Crowley quickly nodded. "Deal," he said and kissed Dean full on the mouth before anything else could be said. This caught Dean off guard and he let go of the demon. Crowley made his escape them, disappearing in the blink of an eye.
After that, Dean wasted no time in making his way to the location Crowley had given him. Sure enough he found several teens huddled together.
"Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you. I came to get you out. Come on, nothing's going to get you, don't worry." He held the door open and ushered the kids out into the light. They all took off as fast as they could.
His job done, Dean went back to the abandoned building and collected all the money in his bag then made his way home.
Years had passed since Dean's homecoming. His brother, Sam, had enveloped him in a tight embrace and took him out for drinks to celebrate. It was that night that Dean met a woman named Lisa. She was lean and tan with long dark hair and lovely brown eyes. Her penchant for the classics on the juke box in the bar, not to mention her other...assets, had grabbed Dean's attention from the start.
Now Dean couldn't be happier. He and Lisa were married, they'd had a son named Ben and Dean couldn't be prouder of the 8-year-old. Dean also had a fulfilling job as a mechanic at the nearby shop.
But for soldiers like Dean, those happy times never last long.
It was a night like any other. Ben had gone to bed and Dean and Lisa stayed up to cuddle on the couch with a beer or two, watching late night reruns. When Lisa decided she was too tired to stay up she stood and kissed Dean goodnight, then made her way to Ben's room to check on him once more.
"Dean!" Lisa called frantically. Dean jumped up and went running. He found Lisa sitting on Ben's bed, the covers stripped off and an unconscious boy in her arms, his skin drenched in sweat.
"I'll call an ambulance." Dean rushed to the phone, his heart racing, and dialed 911.
The paramedics arrived and quickly took action as they checked Ben for breathing, heart rate, and pupil dilation. They brought in a board to place him on and strapped him in then hefted him to the ambulance, Lisa and Dean following behind.
At the hospital Lisa and Dean were asked to wait while they checked Ben further, not wanting the worried parents hovering around and impeding their process. Dean gripped Lisa's hand until his knuckles were white, but Lisa didn't object, not noticing the pain in her hand while in her own state of concern and worry.
After what felt like hours, a nurse came out to tell the parents they could come back. The two followed the nurse into the hospital room where Ben was hooked up to tubes and IVs. Lisa choked and buried her head in Dean's shoulder as she cried.
"The doctor will be along shortly," the nurse said gently before leaving.
When the doctor arrived, she looked at the chart then at Dean. "We're not sure what's wrong with him."
"What do you mean you're not sure?" Dean asked, a slight edge to his voice.
"I mean that it could be any number of things. We won't know until we get all the testing done and we can't even start on that until the morning. For now, though, he's in stable condition. Something brought on a very high fever. We guess it wasn't too long after it set in that you found him, which is good. Any longer and he could have suffered severe brain damage. I know it's not much consolation, but consider yourselves- and your son -lucky. We got to him just in time."
"So what do we do now?"
"For now, he's as comfortable as can be. Like I said we will start a few tests in the morning. You can stay here or head back home if you like."
"We'll stay here," Lisa suddenly voiced.
The doctor smiled warmly and nodded. "The chair over there opens up into a bed. If you'd like I could have a nurse bring in a rocking chair and some extra blankets?"
"Thank you," Lisa said with a nod.
The next day dawned with Lisa curled up in the hospital bed with Ben and Dean was in the chair bed. Neither had slept very well. At one point Dean had called Sam and woken him up, not really sure what to say but just feeling better to hear his brother's voice.
Sam arrived at the hospital with his girlfriend, Jess, as soon as he could. Dean was awake by then but Lisa still slept. They stood out in the hallway talking quietly.
"So they haven't started tests yet?" Sam asked.
Dean shook his head and ran his hand over his face. "No, not yet. They didn't give us a set time."
"And they didn't say what they think it is?"
"No, just that it could be any number of things."
Sam sighed and ran his hands through his chin-length brown hair. "You want me to stay?" he asked after a moment.
"Nah, don't mess things up at work for this."
"Dean, it's not a problem. I've got plenty of vacation time saved up."
Dean placed his hand on Sam's shoulder and shook his head. "Thanks man, but it's alright. Thanks for coming over. I'll keep you updated."
"Alright, if you say so." Sam hesitated then clapped Dean on the back with a reassuring smile before leaving.
Weeks went by and nothing had changed with Ben's condition. Lisa and Dean had taken up shifts at the hospital, not wanting to miss out on too much work. Sometimes Sam would come by and allow the parents to go home for whatever rest they could get.
Then, on a day both Dean and Lisa were at the hospital, things changed. Ben's heart monitor started beeping loudly, waking his parents. They rushed to his side and seconds later a nurse walked in. She checked a few things and then ushered Dean and Lisa from the room after calling for another nurse and the doctor.
The parents stood outside the room, Lisa shaking in Dean's arms as she sobbed, and Dean's jaw clenched, fighting back the tears he felt right behind his eyes.
Seconds ticked by agonizingly slow. They turned into many tortured minutes before the door finally opened and they were allowed back in. The doctor had no definite answer as to what had just happened and merely assured them that Ben was fine now.
That night while everyone was fast asleep and the floor was eerily quiet, Dean stood outside in the cool night air, staring out into space. He thought of everything he'd learned over the years about things that could be used to heal people. Nothing was anything he wanted to mess with.
He sighed heavily and turned to go back inside. Then he stopped. He suddenly remembered a deal he'd made many years before.
"Crowley!" Dean hissed into the air. "Crowley I need you here, right now!" For long moments nothing happened and Dean was afraid the demon would reneg on his deal.
"What is it, oh master of mine," Crowley said, sarcasm dripping from every word.
Dean turned around to find the demon, looking just as he had years before, standing there looking bored. "I need you to save my son's life."
"Well we don't ask for just any old favor, do we? Take me to your son and I'll see what can be done."
Dean lead the way to Ben's hospital room. Lisa was fast asleep still and Dean didn't want to wake her. "What's wrong with him?" Dean asked quietly.
Crowley looked him over then stood straight and shrugged. "I can't tell."
'What does that mean?"
"It means I don't know. Something's blocking me."
"Well can you save him?"
"Oh of course, but what do I get in return?"
Dean fumed. "How about, for starters, I don't put you back in that bag of mine? I still have it, you know." He stopped and fidgeted a moment before saying, "You save his life and I'll release you from the deal," he said, resigned.
"Perfect!" Crowley said then held up his hand and he had a clear glass cup filled with a clear liquid in his hand. He held it up, standing at the foot of Ben's bed, and peered through the glass and the clear liquid inside. "Oh your son will be fine. Here, have a look." He motioned Dean to stand where he was and he handed him the glass. "Look through it. You see that man in the suit?"
"Yeah."
"That's Death. He's at the foot of the bed. It when he's at the head of the bed that you need to worry. Your son will be just fine. Now sprinkle a few drops of water on his head from the glass."
Dean followed the instructions then looked at Crowley, seeming as if he was going to let into him with his fists.
"Well give it a few minutes," the demon said quickly.
And in the next few minutes Ben groaned and turned his head. Dean nearly shouted for joy. He grabbed Crowley by the arm and said, "Give me the glass and the deal is done."
Crowley rolled his eyes and handed the glass to Dean. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said and disappeared.
News spread of what Dean had done that day. He was being hailed a miracle worker. He tried his best to get away from all that, but in the end he couldn't say no. So many people came to him begging him to heal their loved ones. He would do no less. So, with a resigned heart, he began to visit the sick, bringing the glass with him.
More often than not he found Death waiting at the foot of the bed. With that he just sprinkled a few drops of the liquid from the glass on the patient's head and they were cured. The times where he saw Death waiting at the head of the bed he could only look at the family with an apology in his eyes and tell them there was nothing he could do for them. For many this was enough, now they had time to say goodbye, knowing full well that soon the person would pass.
He tried to stay close to home, not wanting to venture too far out of his way, but sometimes there was a call from someone he just couldn't ignore. It was on the return home from one such trip that he recieved grave news.
In the years Dean had been healing the sick and keeping Death at bay, Sam had been diagnosed with cancer. Not wanting to immediately try for a magical cure, he'd used the medical care at his disposal. However, none of it was working. Sam was dying and nothing could be done.
Dean rushed to Sam's house as soon as he returned home. When he held the glass up and looked through it at his brother his face paled. There, standing with a frail hand on the post of the headboard, was Death. He looked solemn in his black suit and tie. He looked at Dean as if to say, "He's mine now," daring Dean to try something.
But Dean knew that there was nothing he could do. Death would have his way. He set the glass down and openly weeped, turning away from his brother and Sam's girlfriend.
"It's alright, Dean, I've made my peace," Sam said weakly from the bed. But Jess would hear none of it. She rushed to Dean and pulled him into the hallway.
"There has to be something you can do!" she hissed at him, not wanting Sam to hear. "You go all over the state and sometimes the country healing complete strangers and yet you will do nothing for your own brother?"
When Dean looked at her, his eyes begging her to tell him what he could do, she clucked her tongue and whirled away back into the bedroom. Dean crumpled to a heap against the wall, putting his arms on his knees and bowing his head. He would do anything to save his brother.
He heard footsteps and Jess came storming from the room. She paused a moment to look down contemptuously at him. "It should have been you," she muttered and walked on.
For a moment Dean sat there in stunned silence. He couldn't really blame Jess for what she had said. Sam was the good child. Everyone loved him. No one really trusted Dean. Oh he had built himself a decent life since coming home, but there was still this air of tension between himself and most others. They all knew the sordid things he'd done in his past. Some had heard of the hunting he had done, thinking he was some nutjob trying to make himself out to be a hero. They felt he'd come by his money the wrong way. Not Sam. He was open and caring. He showed genuine concern for those around him, even strangers. Of course Jess would wish Dean were the one dying, who wouldn't?
Suddenly he jumped up and went back into his brother's room. Picking up the glass he looked through it to see Death still standing by Sam's head. By now Sam had passed into a deep slumber, his body too weak to remain awake long, so he did not hear what Dean said next.
"Death," Dean said and the man looked at him. "Please, take me in Sam's place. If anyone deserves to live, it's him." Silent tears fell down Dean's cheeks now. He was scared of dying but if it was to save his brother he would face it. Death nodded solemnly and vanished.
Hesitantly, his hand shaking, Dean dipped his fingers into the liquid and then sprinkled a few drops onto Sam's head. He waited, holding his breath. Then, Sam's eyes fluttered open. He sat up and looked at his brother, confused. Dean breathed a huge sigh of relief.
"What happened?" Sam asked, his hand going to his chest and stomach, feeling around. "I feel great!"
Jess heard the commotion and came running. When she saw Sam sitting up, a healthy, pink glow to his skin she began crying and threw her arms around Sam. Dean left the two alone to celebrate. He now had arrangements to make.
Lisa and Ben didn't know what Dean had done. He refused to tell them. He only said that Death wasn't at Sam's head and left it at that. Then he sat down on the couch, motioning Lisa and Ben to do the same, and he wrapped his arms around them both. He didn't know how long he would have.
Dean fell ill fast. Doctors were stumped. They'd never seen anyone fall prey to cancer so fast. They told Lisa all she could do was make him comfortable and spend as much time with him as possible. That's what she did. Day in and day out she sat by Dean's side, feeding him, talking to him, watching cheesy monster movies with him.
Then the day came. Dean felt as if the last thread holding him to life was almost gone. Lisa was there as always and she'd kept Ben home from school. The boy, being too young to be able to bear sitting by his father and waiting for him to die, had taken to rummaging through old boxes throughout the house.
He brought one such box into the bedroom to sit on the bed and go through it, his mother telling him what story lay behind each item. From that box Ben pulled out a ratty old backpack. When Dean's eyes lighted on the object he nearly died then and there.
Mustering all the strength he could, he grabbed the backpack and asked for the glass. Lisa had to help him hold it as he peered through it and found Death.
"Death," he gasped. "Do you know what this is?" His breathing was labored.
Death looked at Dean, puzzled.
"It's a magic backpack. I order you to get in it."
There was a small moment of surprise and anger on Death's face before he was pulled into the bag. In an instant Dean was healed and he quickly zipped the backpack up and swung it around, hooting for joy.
That night he took the backpack deep into the woods and dug a hole as deep as he could. There he dropped the backpack and began to shovel dirt on top. After that, the strangest thing happened. No one died.
Bar brawls ended in worn out folk too exhausted to even remember what had made them mad in the first place. Drive by shootings didn't end the way gangs expected them to. Terminally ill patients were suddenly given a clean bill of health and sent home. Dean had gotten rid of Death.
Many years passed in the blink of an eye and Dean watched his son grow up, marry, have children, grandchildren, great grandchildren and so on and so forth. Sam married Jess and the two had children of their own who then had children of their own. On and on life went- neverending, and yet Dean felt a hole in his chest. Something seemed to be missing.
It was one day as he was resting on a park bench that he began to notice something peculiar. Where people should be happy about their longjevity he saw far too many sad, withered souls wandering around aimlessly. Many of them looked barely held together.
He got up and approached one such person and stopped them. "What wrong, son?" he asked, seeing that though this man had skin nearly transluscent with age was still far younger than he was.
"I am nearly 150 years old," the man said, his voice merely a breathy whisper. "I wish for death every day but it never comes. What I wouldn't give to finally lay down and go to sleep forever."
This was news to Dean. He thought everyone was happy not having to worry about losing loved ones, but as he looked around he saw the same expression on too many faces. He went home to talk to his wife.
Lisa only confirmed this. As it turned out, she and Ben were weary. As were Ben's wife and many offspring. They just wanted rest.
It wrung his heart knowing he'd been the cause of so much misery. He couldn't bear to see his family in so much pain. There was nothing to be done. As he grabbed a shovel and made his way to the woods where he'd buried Death, he took hope in the fact that when they were all dead, they'd be together still.
It took longer to dig the backpack up than it had to dig the hole the first time as Dean had to stop many times to rest, but he finally had the bag in hand. As he opened it up Death came bursting out, knocking Dean onto his back.
"I'm sorry," he wheezed. "I had no idea the consequences of my actions. I only wanted to live."
Death only looked at him, contempt in his eyes and then turned and disappeared. Within minutes people began to drop everywhere. But not Dean. Death refused to take him as punishment for what he had done. If Dean had wanted to live- so be it.
Nothing Dean did to appeal to Death made any difference. He was alone now. His several times great-grandchildren didn't know him and had all gone off long ago. Sam was gone, Lisa was gone, Ben was gone. Everyone Dean knew and loved Death had taken in the blink of an eye and he was left to wander, alone and forgotten.
Eventually, in his wanderings, Dean happened upon a gate to hell. Surely if anyone would rid him of his life it would be the demons and the devil. He banged on the door many times before it finally creaked open. A demon he barely recalled walked out of the gate.
"What is it old man?" Meg asked when she saw him.
"I've come to take my place in hell for the sins I have committed," Dean answered.
"Oh yeah? Well who am I to stop you." She began to open the gate wider and let him in when she noticed something on his shoulder. "What's that?" she asked, pointing at the old backpack. Dean had grabbed it along with the playing cards just in case. He'd left the glass sitting on the kitchen table, not wanting to feel it's weight on him as a tangible reminder of what he'd done.
"This? It's a backpack."
Meg's eyes grew as wide as saucers and she quickly stepped back through the gate. "Go somewhere else old man! We don't want you here!"
"Wait!" Dean called out.
"I'm not waiting. I know that backpack and I don't want it anywhere near me. Now go away."
"Then if you know this backpack you know what it can do. If you won't let me in then..."he thought hard, "then give me 200 souls and a way to get into heaven." Maybe saving those condemned to hell could redeem him.
Meg quickly acquiesced to his request, handing him a map with instructions and filing out 200 souls. She promptly shut the gate to hell and Dean heard the lock click into place.
It took many weeks to make it to an entrance to heaven. When Dean arrived he fell to his knees and wept. Surely they would let him in with the souls he saved from hell.
An angel appeared before him and Dean looked up. The angel was tall and broad shouldered. He had a square jaw, short hair, and an imposing look about him.
"I am the angel Gadreel," the angel said. "I guard this gate to heaven and allow only those worthy enough to enter."
"My name is Dean," he began. "I have rescued these 200 souls from hell and request that they- and I -be allowed entrance."
Gadreel looked over the group, his eyes carrying the hint of suspicion. Then he nodded. "The 200 may enter, but you," he said pointing directly at Dean, "may not. We have heard of what you did and your punishment stands."
He could not begrudge the souls' their reward but neither did he sit idly by and watch them enter. He went to the nearest one and handed it the backpack. "Take this and when you get inside the gate, turn and call me into it. It's a magic bag. If you do then I'll be able to spend eternity in heaven with my loved ones." He patted the soul and eagerly watched it pass through the gate. However, what he did not know was that once past the gate, all memory is lost.
Dean waited and waited to be called in, but it never came. Days, weeks, and months went by and still he waited. For one year he waited to gain entrance but was always denied. So he turned away and walked slowly back the way he'd come and to this day he walks, remaining alone and forgotten.