Sam knocked hard on the bunker door before opening it. He stuck his head inside, hand over his eyes, and shouted, "I'm back!" He waited a moment before heading downstairs to the library. "Dean, Ruthie, I'm back," he called. Past the shining tables, toward the kitchen, gaze glued to the floor. "Guys, I'm home." He nearly bumped into Ruthie on her way out the kitchen door.
"Sam!" She hugged him, then drew back and gave him a twinkly-eyed smirk. "Hey, are you back? I'm starting to get the idea you're home."
Sam spotted Dean in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, smirking at him just like Ruthie.
Sam's cheeks heated. "I just didn't want to, uh, surprise you."
"No need to worry," she said. "We just finished lunch. Want me to make you a sandwich?"
"No thanks. I ate on the road." He followed her into the kitchen and stood by the table while she cleared up their dirty dishes and started washing them in the sink. "So, I wasn't planning to come back until tomorrow or the next day, but it's looking like we better get to Ohio."
"What happened?" Dean and Ruthie asked in unison.
"Yesterday, another spontaneous combustion. Then a few hours later, a gas station exploded. Three people dead. Two were police officers."
"Damn," Dean said. "How many bodies we up to now?"
Sam added them in his head. "Eight."
"Yeah, vacation's over. Got any idea what we're dealing with here?"
Sam shook his head. "I was hoping you'd heard from Cas."
"Not a peep."
Ruthie set the last dish in the drying rack and turned to them. "I'll go pack. If we leave soon, we'll get there in time to crash and get a few hours of sleep before morning."
A frown flashed across Dean's face. He walked over to Ruthie and put an arm around her. "Hey, why don't you sit this one out? You can read those lore books you haven't gotten to yet. Take a little break. Me and Sam can handle it."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why don't you want me to go?"
Sam threw Dean a searching look. Hadn't they settled this?
"Look, this thing is most likely some sort of demon, right?" Dean began, looking to Sam for backup.
"Yeah…" Sam hesitantly agreed.
"And you don't have one of these." Dean pulled his shirt aside to reveal the tattoo on his upper chest: a pentagram encircled by sunburst flames.
She wasn't fazed. "So I'll wear a pendant, like you guys did before you got tattoos. I can get ink after this job."
"Not good enough," Dean said.
"It'll have to be, because I'm going." She crossed her arms and glared up at him. "I'm not staying here, Dean, worrying about you two, doing nothing. It's not happening."
Dean looked to Sam again, but Sam raised his eyebrows and shrugged. He'd figured out long before his brother had that you didn't tell Ruthie what to do.
Ruthie's expression softened. She stepped closer to Dean and put her hands on his shoulders. "I know you want me to be safe. I won't take any unnecessary risks. I promise." Then she turned to Sam. "Where can I find an anti-possession pendant?"
"I think we've got a couple in the storage room. Second shelf. Same box as the other amulets."
She nodded and left.
Sam and Dean stood in silence for a moment, then Sam cast him a sideways look. "So…how are things?"
Dean still watched the doorway. "Good. We're good. Thanks, by the way." He turned to Sam. "She loved the burger." He glanced back at the doorway, and shook his head. "I just don't want her to get hurt, Sam. If anything happened to her…"
"I know. Believe me, I know. But she's smart, Dean, and she's careful. And remember, she knows the risks. She chose this life."
"Yeah." Dean wiped a hand across his face. "Yeah, I know. I'm gonna go get packed." He clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder on his way out.
Twenty minutes later, Sam sat in the passenger seat watching Dean and Ruthie approach, bags slung over their shoulders. Dean tossed them in the trunk before leaning in the driver's side window. "I thought maybe you'd wanna drive the first leg. Me and Ruthie can take the back." He winked.
"Uh—"
"He's joking," Ruthie said, climbing in the back and shutting the door. A silver chain hung around her neck, the pendant hidden beneath her scoop neck t-shirt.
"I was?" Dean asked.
"Come on, Winchester. Let's go. Stop making it weird for Sam."
Dean made a pouty face and got in.
Later that evening, after they'd crossed the Mississippi, Sam found himself taking Dean's side for once. "Ruthie, crushed ice fills more of the cup. More total ice surface area means more ice in contact with the liquid, which means a colder drink. It's science."
"Crushed ice is objectively bad, Sam. Who wants jagged little chunks of ice scraping down their throat while they're trying to drink?"
"So use a straw, wuss," Dean said.
"Even with a straw, any bits of ice that melt down to sub-straw diameter are going to get sucked up! Rock hard little pebbles trying to gag you. It's unacceptable."
Dean sucked the last of his Coke from his big styrofoam cup with a loud slurping noise, then started crunching on a chunk of ice.
Ruthie smacked the back of his head. "There's another reason. Nobody wants to hear you masticating."
Dean's eyes bugged out; he made a choking gurgle. "Hey, no need to bring my private time into this."
Sam rolled his eyes; Ruthie buried her face in her hands and groaned.
"It means chewing," Sam said.
Dean gave him a sideways wink before looking back at Ruthie in the rearview. "So say 'chewing,' then. What are you, Shakespeare?" He tipped more ice into his mouth and crunched louder.
Ruthie narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't choke."
Sam grinned and took a drink of his own Coke. When Ruthie let out a shrill yelp, he nearly spewed it all over the dash.
Dean braked hard; his eyes shot to the rearview while Sam twisted around.
"Dammit, Crowley," they both barked.
The bearded demon sat in the back seat. "Lovely to see you, too, boys." He nodded at them, then turned to look at Ruthie. "And you are?"
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "Um, Ruthie."
He looked her up and down. "No flannel. Not part of the Scooby Gang, then. Hitchhiker? I can see why they picked you up."
"What do you want, Crowley?" Dean growled.
He opened his mouth to respond, but Ruthie beat him to it. "You're the King of Hell."
He looked back at her in surprise, then made a half-bow. "At your service. So you're not a hitchhiker, I take it."
She gazed at Sam, looking dumbstruck. "I'm riding down a highway in the back seat with the King of Hell."
"Don't make his head any bigger," Sam said. "There won't be room for you."
She turned to Crowley again. "Actually, I've been wondering, how many other ancient, powerful beings have escaped on your watch?"
Crowley reddened. A mixture of amusement and pride flickered across Dean's face.
"He didn't escape," Crowley snapped. "He left."
"Who is 'he?'" Sam asked.
Crowley eyed him, then Dean in the rearview mirror. "Before I tell you anything, I need to know we're on the same page."
"What page is that?" Sam asked.
"Getting him back to Hell as quickly and quietly as possible."
"Fine," Dean said. "Unless we get a chance to kill him, whoever or whatever he is."
Crowley gritted his teeth. "I know killing everything first and asking questions later is your MO, but not this time. I want him alive. Besides, I don't believe he can be killed."
"You're talking to the guy who killed Death."
"What are we up against here?" Sam asked. "It must be big, or you wouldn't be here. You need our help."
"And you will need mine, I assure you." They waited in silence until he continued. "His name is Azar. It's an ancient Persian word for fire."
"Demon?" Dean asked.
"One of the oldest. Perhaps the oldest, since Lilith died. You remember her, I believe?"
Sam remembered Lilith well. He'd killed her himself. It had backfired in spectacular fashion, releasing Lucifer and setting the stage for the Apocalypse.
"You've heard the phrase 'hellfire and brimstone?'" Crowley asked. "That's him."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked.
"I mean, he is hellfire. It's his essence. He is the reason Hell is hot."
They rode in silence for several heavy moments after that. Sam glanced at Dean, who asked, "Why have we never heard of this guy before?"
Crowley shrugged. "He's never left Hell. He's always been there, since the beginning. Humans have no way of knowing about him. Not living ones, anyway."
"So why leave now?" Ruthie asked.
He regarded her with mild curiosity for a moment before answering. "I have no idea. He didn't discuss his plans with me."
"But you're the king," Ruthie said. "Shouldn't he have asked for your permission before leaving? Before coming into the world?"
Crowley lifted his chin. "Yes. Yes, he should have."
"So you're saying you have no control over him," Dean said.
"Neither I nor anyone else could have predicted he'd want to leave Hell," Crowley retorted. "It's his natural habitat. I didn't have him imprisoned, for the same reason Lucifer didn't: we didn't know it was necessary. It never has been, until now."
"What exactly does he do in Hell?" Sam asked.
"Azar manages the Lake of Fire. It's his own domain, if you will. Souls that aren't sent to the rack are tossed to him. He burns them."
Sam shot a glance at Dean, whose jaw was clenched tight. Sam knew he must be remembering his own time on the rack.
"So…they die? The souls he burns?" Ruthie asked.
"Of course not. Souls can't die."
"But then…they burn forever?" She looked horrified.
"That is the general idea of Hell, yes." Crowley's cheek gave an annoyed twitch. "Except they're getting a little break right now. Without Azar, my Lake of Fire is more like a Puddle of Lukewarm."
"So that's why you're here to get our help. He's making you look bad," Sam said.
Crowley scowled at him.
"Why the spontaneous combustions?" Dean asked. "He get tired of burning souls and decide to try it on live people?"
Crowley sat back in his seat, folding his hands in his lap. "They're just unfortunate meat suits. They can't hold him. He assumed he'd be able to get around on Earth same as the rest of us, the cocky bastard. He doesn't know how to control his own power."
"How do you know that?" Ruthie asked.
"Despite what these two lumberjacks may have told you, I'm very clever." He extended his hand to her. "By the way, pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ruthie."
"Don't touch her, Crowley," Dean snapped.
The demon's eyebrows rose. "Touchy."
Ruthie shook his hand anyway. "This feels like the beginning of a buddy road trip movie. Unlikeliest Frenemies: The world's best hunters hit the road with the King of Hell."
"Frenemies?" Dean sounded indignant.
"Oh, I like her," Crowley said. He pointed at Ruthie, then Dean. "The two of you, then? Nicely done, Squirrel. I admit it: I'm impressed."
"Shut up, Crowley."
"But what about Moose?" Crowley asked. "Feeling like an abnormally large third wheel now?"
"Shut up, Crowley," Dean growled.
"How do we send Azar back to Hell?" Sam asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.
The amusement fell away from Crowley's face. "I'm working on it. I've got to have an enclosure made that will hold him once he's returned to Hell. And I've got to develop a transport that can get him there. Unless I can find a way to send him straight back to the Lake directly."
"You're working on it," Dean repeated. "How long will it take?"
"Sorry, Mother borrowed my crystal ball."
"So what are we supposed to do until you're ready?"
"I'm sorry, I thought you were hunters. Don't you think locating him would be a good place to start?"
Sam felt his blood pressure rising. "You know what Crowley? You might want to be a little less snarky considering it's your fault he's loose and you need us to bail you out."
"No one asked you, Third Wheel."
"He's killed eight people, Crowley," Dean said. "We're not just gonna sit around waiting for you. What will work against him? Devil's traps? Demon blade?"
"He can burn through any sort of devil's trap. That knife might tickle, I suppose. But you're not to kill him, or try to kill him, are we clear?"
"Yeah. Whatever. If you want him alive, you better figure out how to get him back to Hell before we figure out how to kill him."
Crowley blew out a breath through his nose. "I'll be in touch." And with that, he vanished.
"Assclown," Dean muttered.
"Sorry about that, Ruthie," Sam said.
"No, it's okay." She gazed out the window at the rolling hills.
"There's gotta be a way to kill him. Azar, or whatever his name is," Dean said. "There's a way to kill everything."
"Hopefully we'll find it," Sam said. "But I'll settle for getting him back to Hell if we have to."
Dean glanced in the rearview. "Ruthie, you okay?"
"Yeah." She gave him a little smile. "I was just thinking I ought to get myself some flannel. If that's what it takes to be an honorary Winchester."
Dean smiled back. But once his eyes were back on the road, Sam saw his forehead crease. Dean was turning something over in his head.
