Chapter 2
The pit was always full of heat and fear. Screams pierced the muggy air, somehow muted despite the stone walls. Well. They weren't REALLY stone. They were petrified flesh. Centuries of fear and suffering would do that to a soul. A single being wandered through the pit, unaffected by all of the darkness around her. Wings folded behind her back twitched as she passed torturing souls. She looked for one, only one.
"Please!" they cried out around her.
Their wails did nothing to her. They were more like music in her ears than shrieks. Finally, she found the one she was hunting for.
"Come," she commanded.
It did as it was told. She led it up out of the pit and into one of her personal chambers.
"You do not belong here anymore. Time to go back."
With a snap of her fingers, the soul was returned to the land of the living. Now it was time to watch the chaos when the soul returned. This one had still had the hole in its head from when it had been killed. Of course, she had to remove that before sending it back up. The only thing she hated about going upstairs was she had to hide her nature, but it was a small price to pay. Bringing this one back turned out to be boring and predictable. It hadn't been in her kingdom for very long. Its family still wanted it back. A loud noise drew her eyes away from the celebrating. A shining, black, beast of a car drove by, a man with long hair driving it. It took her a few minutes to determine where she knew his face. Many of the souls that she judged and brought to the pit had met or heard of him. He was one of two. They called him Winchester. Names mattered little to her, but he was more than his name. He, and his brother, was a hunter. This would not do. Hunters solved problems that didn't need solving. Following the brother, she waited as he spoke to those she'd returned. What gave him the right? Just beneath her skin, rage began to boil. She knew who they'd seen first. In a moment, she was there, standing outside the perfect little house. Knocking was unnecessary. There was no threshold here. The dead, even returned dead, got no luxuries.
"Roberta," she called in a sing-song voice. "Roberta darling. We need to talk."
The old woman came around the corner, face pale.
"Wh… Why are you here? What have I done?"
"You spoke with two hunters, dear. I can't have hunters sniffing around and stepping in the middle of my game."
The woman's lip quivered. Humans were such weak creatures. It was disgusting.
"Bu… But what d-does that have to do with me?"
"You gave them a bone to chew on. They may be dogs, but they are smart dogs. They stick their noses where they don't belong."
"Please. I didn't tell them anything important."
She could feel her illusion slipping. Deep anger would do that. Her wings twitched beneath the skin.
"But you DID tell them something. Which is the bone you threw to the dogs. I can't let that stand. I have rules. A system. And you've ruined it."
The old woman shook her head and began backing away. Letting the fear and terror seep into her being, Ereshkigal unfurled her wings, letting them stretch to their full length.
"I am goddess of the dead. Irkalla is mine to rule as I see fit. I alone am judge of the dead. And you a guilty. Back to the pit you go."
Reaching out with one arm, she touched the old woman. She began screaming, the heat spreading through her body. Steam and stink rose from the flesh. Soon, she was no more than a pile of smoldering ash. Breathing deeply, Ereshkigal shook her body and hid her wings once more. Humans were afraid of unexplainable things. Things like a pretty woman with deep red wings.
With Roberta gone, the biggest source of the hunter's information was gone. Now, she just had to find out what they knew and decide what to do with them.
The motel the hunters resided in was repulsive. She was thankful that she did not have to live in a place like this. Inching as close as she dared, she listened carefully.
"So? You find anything?" asked the little dog.
"Not really," said the big dog.
"What does 'not really' mean?"
The big one sighed. "He wouldn't talk about it. He said he was thankful for his second chance at life and he'd vowed to be a better father. What about you?"
"Not really anything to work with. The girl I talked to said Roberta just showed up. That a tall, beautiful woman had spoken with her, but that was all she knew," the little one said.
Good. None of the others had been stupid enough to speak about what she'd done for them. But dogs did not let mysteries go unsolved. They would remain here until they were satisfied with the answer. She needed to speak to one of them, alone. But which one? The big, furry one seemed satisfied. He had no loved ones in the pit that she could taunt him with. But the little, angry one… He had many in the pit. It would be easy to offer him an impossible choice. Now all she needed was a way to get him alone.
"Maybe I can talk to Roberta again," the little one said.
"Sure. I'll go with you."
The little one shook his head.
"No. I'll go alone."
"Dean…"
The little one sighed.
"No, Sam. You weren't in the pit. You were stuck in the box, but it's different. You got tortured. I was tortured, but then I was the torturer. It's…" he got quiet. "It's different. I understand her."
The big one grumbled.
"Fine. Call me if you find anything. I'll start doing some research to see what could have the juice to pull this off."
The little one nodded and grabbed the keys to his loud beast. A smile came to her ruby red lips. This was too easy. It would be a simple thing to pull him into her game. And when he joined, his brother would be left alone, defenseless. Though, admittedly, few had defenses against her. She had to intercept the little dog before he reached Roberta's house. Perhaps she could have some fun before she put the animals to sleep. Focusing on the beast as it drove down the road, she blinked and opened her eyes in the passenger seat. The little dog barked a colorful word and swerved the noisy beast. These metal cans never made sense to her. Watching the humans create them had been odd. Though, they had sent her many souls to judge. The beast came to a stop and the little dog pulled a silver gun from his pocket.
"Hello," she said with a wicked smile. "I thought we should have a talk."
Throwing the door open, she stepped slowly from the beats. He may be a hunter, but he was still a man, and all men were easily distracted by an aesthetically pleasing meat suit. She stood the sidewalk waiting, swaying gently back and forth.
"What the hell are you?"
"You don't want to talk, Dean? I thought you'd be interested in hearing from me."
He stared at her, eyes and face serious.
"You can call me Eris. I saw Roberta Jenkins come back. It was bizarre. She just appeared, out of no where."
"Why are you talking to me? No one else would give me answers that made sense. Who are you?"
He was smarter than he looked. Perhaps he could be led to where she wanted with the proper motivation.
"I think I know who is bringing people back. You should call Sammy up and tell him."
"How do you know my brother?" he growled.
Some part of was attracted to the fierce loyalty in the sound.
"I know many things, Dean Winchester, son of John Winchester, friend of Robert Singer, lover of Josephine Harvelle."
He drew his weapon and pointed it at her, right between the eyes.
"You can't kill an immortal, silly little dog."
"What. Are. You."
She licked her lips slowly and threw her hair back, letting her chest protrude more than necessary. Men were simple creatures.
"Call your brother. Give him the name Ereshkigal. Then come back here and maybe we can talk for real. It's no fun playing with a dog that doesn't have a toy."
Her grey eyes smoldered like hot coals.
"I'll be waiting."
Turning, she walked away from him, swaying her hips. While she wandered around in her false mortal body, she could enjoy some of the mortal things. The greasy things they called food were her favorite. They would not sustain her, she needed fear and death, but they made her mouth happy. A shiver racked her body at the thought of devouring some of it. Taking a seat in a boot at the diner on the corner, she ordered the largest plate of chili cheese french fries they had to offer. There was no way to pay them with their silly paper, but the diner owner had lost a child some time ago. Perhaps an arrangement could be made. Eyes rolling back in ecstasy, she moaned in deep pleasure as she let the food linger in her mouth. She heard the little dog trot in, but she didn't move to intercept him. There was too much to enjoy right here. Let him come find her.
"Ereshkigal?"
"Please," she said wistfully. "Call me Eris. You mortals have lost the respect and honor of a name. And you, here in this strange country, can't even pronounce it properly."
Stuffing a few more fries into her mouth, she licked her fingers and stared at the dog across from her.
"Fine. Eris. Whatever. There isn't much lore on you. A Mesopotamian goddess of the dead? You have a sister. There are a few conflicting stories about you both, and I'm not sure what to believe. Nergal is your husband?"
She laughed musically. Mortals never recorded the stories right.
"I suppose technically, he is. But I think, to use your own language, he's my bitch. Becoming my mate is his punishment. He receives no enjoyment from our bond, I can promise you. But you don't want to hear that story. It's bloody and dirty."
His jaw clenched a little, and odd gesture.
"You know, I didn't expect you to look like this."
Her eyes moved from the plate of divine food to his eyes.
"And what were you expecting the goddess of the dead to look like?"
He pulled a glossy piece of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to her. It was an ancient carving of her, from a time when she'd been worshipped. A deep sigh came from her chest.
"Ahh. I see. They always tried to get it right. You have to give them credit for that. Their tools were very limited. But seriously. Do I look like a frumpy old woman?"
Her eyes flashed up to him, the color of a thunderstorm.
"What were you expecting, Dean Winchester. The goddess of the dead. Did you think I'd have horns and a pitchfork and red skin?" She rolled her eyes. "I'm not that dramatic. My sister on the other hand… SHE would do something like that. Always had a flare for the exciting."
"I've still never heard of you. No one I know has either."
Lightening flashed in her eyes, like in a summer storm.
"I am Ereshkigal."
"Yeah. You said that."
The clouds in her eyes darkened, turning them almost black.
"No respect for the old ways. No one knows. You would do well to treat me as I deserve, mortal. I am the judge of the dead. Nothing happens without my say so. I determine how your afterlife goes in Irkalla. It can be painful, hurtful, or worse. It is left up to me and me alone."
More greased food earned another quiet moan from her.
"You're the one that wanted to talk," he said after a long minute. "So talk."
"I want to make you an offer," she told him, licking her fingers again.
"I don't make deals with demons."
Her eyes rolled.
"That's one of the biggest lies you've ever told, Dean. Crossroads demons. You've even been known to deal with Crowley before."
Pushing her empty plate away, she leaned in close to him. He tried to back away.
"And do I really look like a demon? My eyes do not change color."
"But see that's the thing. Demons don't look like demons until they do."
He frowned at him.
"You sound like a fool. Do you want to hear my offer or not?"
She sat back, annoyed. Dealing with mortals was an exhausting endeavor.
"Sorry, sweetheart. I think I'll have to pass."
He began to slide himself from the booth.
"Even if I could bring your lover back to you? Or the one man you consider to be your father, though you have no blood relation?"
The movement stopped. Humans were so predictable.
"What?"
She smiled.
"I am ruler of Irkalla. I can come and go as I please, so long as there is no unrest. The restless dead are quite tiresome," she said with an eye roll. "I can bring souls out and send them in. Death delivers them to me and I judge them. I can bring one of them back to you. Precious Josephine or beloved Robert."
"At what cost?"
No fool, indeed. She had been right to pick him. The other one, the fluffy one, would use his brain too much. Can't have that.
"None. I do this because it brings me entertainment. I can let you live your life with one of them in it. But you must choose."
"How the hell am I supposed to make that kind of a choice?"
This game would be very fun.
"I can help with that too. I will give you two days. Forty-eight hours. The first twenty-four will be spent with Josephine, the other with Robert. After that, you can decide who you want the most. Your would-be father, or your would-be lover."
Dean shook his head.
"No way. Nothing has that kind of juice, not even Crowley."
"Crowley is a power hungry insect, nothing more. I am the goddess of the dead. They do as I command."
He was quiet for a long time. The server avoided their table. Humans may be stupid as a whole, but they perceived much more than they thought.
"What do I have to do?"
Excellent. He was easier than she thought.
"Absolutely nothing. Just tell me who you want to see first. I will send them to you first thing tomorrow. Then the twenty-four hours begins. What say you?"
Her wings twitched in anticipation as he pondered her offer. Ten minutes went by, but she hardly noticed.
"Deal," he finally said, eyes washed with emotion.
"Wonderful," she purred.
Standing, she straightened the too-tight shirt she wore and pulled him to his feet. Crushing her mouth to his, she held him tightly. When she released him, he moved back quickly, wiping at his mouth.
"What the hell was that for?"
Eyebrows raised, she shrugged.
"Isn't that how your crossroads demons seal their deals? I thought it would make you more comfortable."
Sighing deeply, she patted his shoulder.
"See you tomorrow, Dean Winchester."