Dean wandered into the kitchen for a snack. Charlie was there, head down over her new iPad, red hair dangling forward, frowning in fierce concentration. He opened a cabinet, looked over the contents, then pulled out a bag of chips, pulled it open, and started munching.
"Charlie! What's up?"
"Mmph," she muttered absently.
He sat down across from her, dropped the bag on the table. Then he leaned forward and waved a hand between her face and the screen.
"Yo! Charlie!"
She looked up, blinked at him, then suddenly flashed him a wide smile. "Dean!"
"Hunh. Yeah, thought you were somewhere else. What're you doing?" He nodded to the iPad with his chin.
She looked back down at it, twitched another small frown, looked back at him. "Remember right before I was kidnapped by Lucifer's gang? On the phone? I was just about to tell you about something I had just heard about - The Book of the Saved."
He jerked his head back a bit. "Ugh. Sounds like the Book of the Damned, and we all know where that got us!"
She pushed her hair back behind an ear. "Well! The Book of the Saved was sort of a - a - companion book. Legend has it that it was written at the same time, but by another mad nun in a different convent. There were lots of them - mad nuns - don't you think? I wonder if being isolated made it easier for their minds to - to key into something cosmic. Like, wooooo..." She sang the last word in a Twilight Zone fashion, wiggling her fingers in the air. Then she frowned, pursed her lips, and smiled again. "So. The two books are tied together? Like the Book of the Saved is a - an antidote?" He nodded at her to go on, intrigued. "Anyway! I found the one, now I want to try finding the other!" She switched off the screen, folded her hands on it, sat up straight.
"Kiddo, don't you think it would be good to just...rest...for a little while?" He certainly did. It was nice, realizing there were no crises, nothing urgent for them to be doing. He thought again of the vacation idea he had had, of going to the ocean, soaking up some sun, swimming, just relaxing...
"Dean. Rowena got a really good look at the Book of the Damned while we were translating it, looking for a cure. She's not going to just sit around! And the lead I had - well, it's not going to last forever, y'know! Gotta hop right on that puppy! So. Now I have a quest!" She smiled brightly at him.
She did love a quest. He grinned at her. "Need help?"
She picked up the tablet, nibbled at her lips, peered at him through the dark red curls that had, once again, fallen into her eyes. "Nah, I think I'll go it alone. More fun that way!"
He suddenly had the very odd feeling that she was keeping something from him. The thought made him blink, then he mentally shrugged it off.
"Well, okay then. What's your first stop? And don't think you're totally alone - " He waggled an admonishing finger at her. "You're going to keep in touch. Right? Let us know if things are chasing after you, like those damned Stynes. Right?" He narrowed his eyes at her.
"Okay, okay - sheesh! Going all protective big brother-y on me. I did fine without you guys before, you know!" she grumbled.
"That was before. This is now. You've been dumped into the world of things that go bump in the night." He paused, then continued. "I'm serious. Call us. Keep us posted. Now: first stop?"
She folded her lips and mock-glared at him. "Man! Touchy, touchy! Okay! I'll be sure to look under my bed every night. First stop - " She gazed into the distance, her eyes unfocused. "New York, I think..."
He grabbed some more chips from the bag. "And if you meet a nice girl, you have to run her by us first."
She rolled her eyes. "Riiight. So! Do you think Cas might give me a lift to the city?"
Dani puttered around her living room, rearranging her collection of Day of the Dead figurines. She had contracted for a series of small occult research jobs, which were fun, but at this point she also wanted something with more substance to have as a long-term background project. Small jobs were like sweets - delicious little tidbits, but a steady diet of them was tiring. She needed something to sink her mental teeth into. Searching for the spell to unbind Crowley and Sam Winchester - now, that had been invigorating, challenging.
And she had met Crowley. That had certainly made her life...interesting. She twitched a small, contented smile, drew her hands down her torso slowly, sensually.
~~oh, please. you're being...~~
Being what?
~~dunno. treacly? boring? obsessed? all of the above?~~
Are you saying he doesn't make life interesting?
~~um. well. yeah, he does. doesn't make it a good thing, y'know. 'may you have an interesting life' is an old chinese curse. he's scrambled your brains. go soak in some feminist websites for a while; it'll get your blood boiling and then you can rant at me for a bit...~~
Dani grinned. It was a good idea, actually. She sat down, flipped open her laptop -
Her doorbell rang.
"Bah." She got up again, went to the entryway, pushed the intercom.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Dani. It's Charlie."
Charlie? Dani blinked, buzzed her in. When she opened the door, Charlie swooped in, holding out a brown paper bag.
"I brought some cookies for Danielle; I didn't know just what she'd like, so..." She opened the bag and peered in. "I've got orange-pecan biscotti, some Mexican wedding cookies, shortbread, and these bakery-made Oreo thingies." She closed the bag again and held it out to Dani with a bright smile. "Hi, Dani! Hi, Danielle!"
Dani took the bag.
~~cooooookies! hi, charlie!~~
"Innie-Me is doing her best imitation of the Cookie Monster, and says hi. Thanks. Come on in. Tell me what you're doing in the city. It's good to see you." She pulled Charlie into a light sideways hug, then swept her hand out in a welcoming gesture.
Charlie unslung her backpack as she walked in, looking interestedly around, taking in the light airiness, the hardwood floors, the French doors, the vivid prints on the wall. "Oh, this is nice!" She immediately went to the shelves holding the brightly-colored Jalisco fantasy animals and crooned happily. She absently dropped her backpack, and it made a clattering noise as the collection of buttons on it hit the floor. Dani could read just one; it proclaimed loudly, "I ship Eliot/Hardison/Parker".
Dani headed into the kitchen, dropped the bag on the island, investigated the refrigerator. "Want something to drink? Ginger ale? Wine? Orange soda? ...Scotch?"
~~cookies?~~
Later.
~~damn.~~
"Dani, that's a really weird selection of drinks..." Dani twisted around, peered at her; she was leaning on the island, having abandoned the figurines.
"Well, it's what I've got. Anything?"
Charlie shook her head, her shoulder-length loose red curls bouncing. "Not right now." She looked down at her folded hands. "I need help, Dani."
"Oookay. Look. You know my standard rates..."
Charlie shot her a huffy look. "Really, Dani? You got the entire digital Men of Letters archive - which you stole from us, by the way! - I'd think that would mean free help from you for me, Dean, and Sam for - like, oh, forever?!"
Dani snorted, lifted up a hand as if conceding defeat. "Had to try it, you know that."
Charlie grinned briefly, then looked down again, bit her lips. She sighed. "We have a real problem." Dani twitched up an inquiring eyebrow. "Sam. He...he...oh, I don't like to say it! But he came back from Lucifer's possession with - with his addiction to drinking demon blood back, real strong."
Dani grimaced. "Drinking demon blood? Ew. Yuck. But - aside from the fact that I don't want to be that huge dude's target - um - what's the problem?"
Charlie looked at her, surprised. "Don't you know? Haven't you read the books?"
Dani blinked. "Read the books? What books?"
"The 'Supernatural' series? Written by Carver Edlund? All about Sam and Dean and their fight against - against monsters and demons and Lucifer, the first go-round? The Apocalypse?"
Dani pursed her lips, shook her head. "Nope. Doesn't ring a bell."
It was Charlie's turn to blink. "Then how d'you know so much about Dean and Sam?"
Dani shrugged. "Oh, baby demon school, demon gossip, The Demon Daily Online...all demons know about the Winchesters and how dangerous they are, how careful you have to be when making a deal with them, the demon knife, that kind of thing. And the talk about Dean Winchester and Crowley, when Dean got turned into a demon and they went on their bromance spree - Whoo! I also got a lot of info from all my occult research. But I never heard of these books."
"Oh. Well. Forget the books, then. Look, Sam drinking demon blood is bad, bad, bad. He like...goes dark side. Sorta teeters on the edge of good and evil, y'know?" She illustrated with a hand wobbling back and forth. "And...well. It's like heroin for him - that's not good! He gets...power from it. When he killed Lilith - his eyes went demon black! And the detox is something awful, it takes weeks, and the powers go all weird and start eating him up from inside and he doesn't have control, and - and - Dani, it's just awful. And I have to help him. I have to."
Dani leaned an elbow on the island and her chin on that fist. She twisted her lips thoughtfully. "Um. Charlie. Look. I'm a demon. Someone going dark side is, um, something to cheer about for us."
Charlie glared at her. "You owe us!" she said fiercely. "And you're my friend! Friends help friends!"
Dani held up her hands, sighing. "Okay, okay. So what, exactly, do you need from me?"
"Hold on," Charlie said, and darted back into the living room. She came back with her backpack, dropped it on the island counter, began digging in it. She pulled out an iPad, turned it on. "So! First, it would be nice if you could find some sort of - of magic detox spell. Second, I have a lead on the Book of the Saved, which might be useful, and I was thinking you might help in looking for that. Third..." She stopped and frowned. "Sam's getting the blood from somewhere, someone, and we need to know where, maybe, um, interrupt the drug delivery stream, y'know?"
Dani lifted an eyebrow. "Hunh. All of that makes sense. Okay, then. A nice medium-size project. Sure. I'll start with-"
A draft wafted across her neck. Arms slid around her waist, pulling her back against his body, and he began nibbling at the nape of her neck. The skin there quivered and sent a small thrill down her back.
She cleared her throat. "Guest. I have a guest," she announced to him pointedly. She placed her hands on his to stop them wandering any further. Charlie's eyes danced and she waggled her eyebrows; Dani shot her an exasperated look in return.
He paused the small bites, then continued, murmuring, "Send him away." He was focused entirely on her, hadn't looked up.
She turned her head sideways. "Her. No."
He switched to nipping on the ear she had so helpfully presented. "Please," he breathed. The soft puff of breath teased her ear, made her draw her own in a tiny, soundless gasp.
"No."
"Invite her to join us...?" he suggested.
"No."
He gave up, sighed, dropped his forehead on her shoulder. "Bollocks!" Then he lifted his head and focused outward. His beard tickled her cheek.
"Ah. Charlie Bradbury. The Winchesters' friend." His voice was light.
Charlie grinned at him. "Hi, Crowley!"
"I...er...appreciate the invitation to Thanksgiving dinner. It was delightful," he said stiffly. Dani blinked; it was a very old fashioned courtesy. Sometimes he came out with things like that and she remembered just how long he had been around.
"It was, wasn't it? I do like when people are happy like that!"
"Really. Believe me, I am far from happy at this moment," he drawled in response, shifting slightly against Dani's back. She bit her lips to keep from laughing.
"Oh!" Charlie's face fell and her eyes widened. She looked from Dani to Crowley and back. "Oh! I'm sorry! I'll just - " She pointed back at the door, closed her mouth, grabbed the backpack and tablet off the island. "I'll see you later, Dani! I'll just - um - later!" She darted to the door, caroled out, "Spell, Dani!" and left quickly.
Dani leaned forward on the counter, letting her laughter out. Crowley turned her around to face him, and narrowed his eyes at her. "Not funny, pet. Not funny at all!" he grumbled. She just laughed harder.
"Poor Charlie! She was so embarrassed!"
"Poor Charlie?! What about poor me?!"
"Oh, yes, you poor thing!"
"So," he said, tracing her hairline with a finger. "She's looking for a spell, eh? What kind of spell, pet?" It sounded like idle curiosity. But nothing he did was "idle", in her experience.
"Consultant-client privilege, can't say," she replied, leaning into his hand.
"Hmmm." He looked down at her with half-lidded eyes. "Now, where we, Dani-girl? I was thoroughly enjoying it, I remember..." He started to turn her back around, but she stopped him, pushing his hands gently away. "No," she said softly.
He drew his head back, opened his mouth to protest. She placed a finger on his lips. "Shhh. Shh, shh, shh," she murmured. She tilted her head, considering, then slipped her hands beneath his suit jacket, slid her hands up, pushed it open, and let gravity pull it down and off his arms. It made a black puddle of fabric at their feet. Then she gripped his tie, pulled him a step closer, loosened the knot, and slowly tugged it free. She let the tie drop to the floor, on top of the jacket.
He made a wordless sound of mild frustration, leaned forward to kiss her, but she drew her head back, gave him a quick, sharp pat on the cheek. "Back, boy!" she whispered, pushing him back into place. He closed his eyes momentarily, bit his lips, drew a ragged breath. She smiled languidly, started humming, and returned to her work, her hands tracing the subtle brocade pattern on his shirt, moving leisurely to the top button. She undid it, pushed the fabric open, let a fingertip glide around the skin revealed, then repeated the process for all the buttons available. His head was back, eyes half open, and his skin shivered beneath her touch. She tugged the shirt free from his pants, completed unbuttoning it, let both hands wander down to release one sleeve cuff, then the other, then pulled the shirt open, pushed it down off his shoulders. It joined the jacket and tie on the floor.
She drew in a long, deep breath of her own, then leaned forward, closing her eyes, running her hands lightly up and down the skin on his chest, breathing in his scent. She began a trail of nipping and licking, starting at his neck, then moving down.
He broke, and with a growl, he yanked her close, pulled one of her legs up his thigh, pushed her back hard against the island. "My turn," he breathed.
~~i want my cookies after this is done...but take your time, please...~~
It had been a long day. The talk with Charlie had left Sam unsettled, upset. She didn't seem to have talked to Dean about it, though, thank heavens. And she had left before he returned to the cabin, so he didn't have to face any more of her concerned prodding. Dean and Cas had gone into town to buy food, so he was all alone for a while.
He sat on the bed, propped against the bolsters and single pillow, legs stretched out before him. He held the flask in his hands, and turned it over and over, staring at it darkly. The tiny black enamel eyes in the center of the roses glinted as it moved. They looked like little demon eyes. He shuddered. He made a move to open the flask, then stopped.
No. Maybe later, but not now - Dean and Cas would be back soon, and Crowley's blood affected him so much he didn't dare drink now; he would be totally incoherent by the time they returned.
His mouth twisted in self-disgust at how he was calculating these things. Junkies did that.
Junkies.
He was a junkie.
He was addicted, and there was no-one to turn to for help. He had dried out before, but in safe surroundings, with people who knew and loved him, and who knew and respected the supernatural. No detox center in the world could provide those ingredients. He could just imagine the uproar if the power started flinging him around the walls while in a "normal" detox facility.
Right now, he was consumed with anger. He would damn both Lucifer and Crowley to hell, but it seemed kind of redundant. Still: Damn Lucifer for restarting the addiction while he was trapped inside his brain, damn Crowley for seizing the opportunity to sink his hook in. He was going to find a way, somehow, to stop the craving, kill Crowley. This time, for sure. No more exemptions for being "useful", a "known factor", "better than Lucifer".
He sat up and angrily shoved the flask between the mattress and box spring.
Just in time, too; he heard the cabin door open and close, and Dean and Cas chatting. Steps came down the hallway, and Dean popped his head in the door.
"Hey, Sammy. C'mon out - we're doing burgers." He glanced around the room. "Get outta this box. Have a beer."
"Sounds good." Sam got up, left the room. Dean hung back behind, and Sam turned around to look at him. He caught Dean peering into his room with a gleam in his eye, and suddenly he was thrown back ten years, dealing with Dean pulling pranks. "Yo. Dude," he called out.
Dean turned back to him with an elaborately innocent look. "Hmm?"
"I know that look. Stay out of my room! No itching powder in my underwear!"
"You're no damn fun, Sammy, y'know that?" Dean grumbled, and they headed down the hallway to the kitchen.