A/N: After reviewing the previous chapter, I'm thinking about giving poor Adam a gun. This chapter is a little flimsy, logic and action wise, and it's pretty much all about food, but I think it has some great talking points. I had to include the White Castle bit because on a mission trip with my church, two guys actually bought 20 sliders each and had an eating contest. It was awesome. And disgusting. Now I'm hungry. Snack break!

If anyone out there listens to the awesome band Florence + the Machine, I have decided that if Adam and Kristen were to have a theme song, it would be "I'm Not Calling You A Liar". And Wincest or not, Sam and Dean's would be "Kiss With A Fist". And Dean/Castiel shippers (like me!) would probably appreciate "Heavy In Your Arms".

If anyone out there doesn't listen to the awesome band Florence + the Machine, ask yourself why you make such bad life decisions. And don't discount them just because their music is on a Twilight soundtrack. Those movies have ridiculously decent soundtracks. Plus, you can't stay sad after listening to "Dog Days Are Over". And the band's badass factor can't be doubted when listening to "Girl With One Eye" (especially the Bayou Percussion version. Or maybe the original. No, the percussion. No the… damn it).

Florence + the Machine fangasm over.

Streetwise: Wouldn't "Shagged Satan" be a great band name? Also, I bet you can spot the Dark Angel reference. Maybe not the Harold & Kumar one…

Thriving Willow: COMMUNITY COMES BACK SEPTEMBER 23RD I'M SO EXCITED! Sorry, just had to be said… I am secretly Abed…

Chapter 10: Subliminal Corporate Advertising for Burgers, Booze and Coffee

Along with the disturbing Casa Erotica instructional video, Gabriel had hidden layout plans to the Niveus Pharmaceutical warehouse on the disk. Bobby and Dean were poring over the layouts looking for entrance points and spots to triangulate the explosives for maximum damage. Sam (after being ordered by Bobby to sponge Janice's blood out of the rug) was on his laptop researching Laramie's current news for omens that would portend the arrival of Pestilence.

With no skills germane to either assignment, Kristen and Adam were left to sit on the bed and clean the Winchesters' extensive gun collection in anticipation for the assault. At first Kristen had been nervous (Adam insisting that he was a trained World War II paratrooper didn't help matters), but there came to be a comfortable assembly line quality to their work: Adam disassembling a firearm into its bare parts, Kristen gently wiping them down with solvent, and Adam putting them back together.

Every few minutes, Kristen would throw a furtive glance out the window. There was a cathartic sort of pain watching Crowley 'play' with his giant hellhound by tossing random limbs at it.

"You okay?" Adam asked softly, nudging her arm.

"Just thinking about… Chewbacca," she said lamely. Chewbacca was a shaggy little puppy Kristen had received for her eighth birthday. Although nothing like a hellhound, Chewbacca had been an aggressive sheepdog with a tender side… much like Ripper, who was now nibbling a little bit of something bloody out of Crowley's hand.

"That reminds me," Adam said, resting the sawed-off he'd been disassembling on his lap. He cupped a hand on her cheek to shield her gaze from the window. "I wanted to take back what I said at graduation. I really am sorry my uncle ran over Chewbacca with his car."

"Let's just void everything we said at graduation," Kristen suggested, pecking a kiss on his wrist. She laid down the solvent. "I'm gonna use the restroom. Be right back."

Despite five hand washings, the scent of the gun cleaning solvent lingered on Kristen's fingers. Kristen inhaled the pungent scent and was surprised at how awake she was. The crash would come soon; she had no idea how she was going to stave off sleep for another day.

She let the door creak close and was about to rejoin the guys in the living room, but she lingered in the hallway. Ripper was snarling and had begun doing laps around the house. Kristen peered out the open window, shivering from the breeze. The demon, Crowley, seemed different from the nameless other demons she had encountered. Sam and Dean tensed in his presence, but let him stroll around the yard and the house unwatched.

When Kristen turned from the window, Crowley was standing right behind her.

"Feel like cutting out the middle men, luv?" he said, his voice hovering above a whisper and his mouth curled but not grinning.

"How do you know so much about me?" Kristen asked, running her eyes around the hallway, trying to make sure none of the others were privy to the meeting.

"Your auntie and I had a few good times," Crowley answered, narrowing his eyes. Kristen suddenly felt dirty, as if she were the subject of voyeurism. She became very aware of the fact that she resembled Aunt Jayma a great deal. They even had the same haircut. "There's a voodoo priestess down in New Orleans, taught good ol' Jaymes everything she knew. I can take you to her."

"Demonic road trip, I think I'll pass," Kristen snapped under her breath, though in truth, she was intrigued.

"Those Neanderthals are kidding themselves," Crowley said. "Gabriel doesn't have the bollocks to kill his big brother. No weapons, no spell, no magic jewelry is going to wrest a fanatic like Lucifer from this earth. You're Jayma's girl; you're too clever not to have figured it out by now."

Kristen bit her lip and looked away, afraid to even consider the implications of what he was hinting at.

"If you can put him in Heaven," he continued, "you can put him back in Hell. His cage is pretty deep down but, uh, what's the line," he pondered, smiling cruelly. "You're the only hope?"

There was a flicker of movement behind Crowley's shoulder and Kristen hopped away when Sam tackled him to the ground, a large serrated knife in his hand. Adam flew to her and they stood to the side as Dean wrestled Sam away from the incensed demon.

"Because it's what Luke Skywalker would do."

Crowley had to raise his eyebrow at that ridiculous comment, even if Kristen had just agreed to follow through with his plan of luring Satan into Hell. Although not quite impressed by Kristen (no mortal had ever impressed him), he was beginning to see traces of Jayma's blunt determination mirrored in the girl's refusal to heed Sam and Dean's assurances that she probably didn't possess the level of skill necessary to face Lucifer.

"Are you out of your mind—?" Bobby started to scold, but Kristen cut him off.

"When he found out his dad was a Jedi and his family was massacred by storm troopers, Luke didn't hide in a basement. He manned up and faced his destiny."

"Screw your 'destiny'!" Adam insisted. Crowley felt a bit like retching at the boy's sickly sweet antics, taking Kristen's hands in his, giving her long soulful looks with his goddamn baleful eyes. Crowley smiled to himself as he imagined gouging them out. "It's too dangerous. I couldn't forgive myself if you got hurt or died, I just…"

"I'm not going to point out that you're being a huge hypocrite," Kristen said gently, squeezing his hands, thinking of his full intention to accompany his brothers to kill Pestilence. "But even if I can't help, if there's any chance this priestess can tell me who I am or what's inside me, then I have to go."

"I'll shack up with her in the Crescent City," Crowley offered, "and she'll be as safe as can be. Have fun with Pestilence."

"You can go fuck yourself!" Adam shouted, whirling to face Crowley. "I will protect her!"

"Sorry," Crowley said, holding up his hand up to his ear. "I'm just waiting for the laugh track to kick in."

"Adam, calm down," Sam urged, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You're still a rookie. If you two are gonna do this, we're coming with you."

"Um, excuse me?" Dean interjected, cocking his head to one side. They'd just spent the last hour arguing with Crowley against taking Kristen to Louisiana. "In case you forgot, we have got a Horseman waiting at the gate. Kind of a time sensitive issue."

"Dean, no splitting up," Sam said. "That was the deal. The angels might still be looking for Adam, Lucifer knows about Kristen, I mean, it's a clusterfuck waiting to happen." Sam turned his gaze to Adam. "Screw God, and the Devil, and the apocalypse. Family comes first."

"Bugger, I might actually retch," Crowley muttered, miming puking into his jacket. While Sam and Kristen restrained Adam from leaping at Crowley to try and throttle him, Dean marched up to face the demon.

"You kill Pestilence," he challenged.

"I don't have any stake in that battle," Crowley replied. Dean could tell that despite his lazy casualness, Crowley's trembling features meant he was offended by the order. "Let him take out massive swaths of humanity; I'll just outsource to India."

"You kill Pestilence," Dean repeated, "then we trust you and follow your plan. Oh, and just in case you're wondering, I ain't sealing this deal with a kiss." He flattened his lips in a thin-lipped grin.

"Fine," Crowley said sullenly after a moment of contemplation, during which he took out a cell phone and crushed it in his fist. "I have other ways of holding you to your word."

With a gust of wind, he was gone. A quick and silent glance from his brother told Sam that Dean had no intention of doing any such thing. Sam felt a rush of gratitude and pride for his brother, for wordlessly agreeing to protect Adam and Kristen whilst bending Crowley to their will.

"Well aren't you all just as honorable as a bunch of knights," Bobby growled from the sidelines. He had a phone in his hand and was dialing a number, punching the buttons as if they were bugs to be squashed. "Falling over yourselves to protect the damsel…"

"Who're you calling?" Dean asked.

"Rufus," Bobby snapped. "He might just be willing to pull his head out of his ass long enough to, I don't know, save humanity. Go get me that Johnny Walker Blue out of the cupboard."

Sam, Dean and Adam loaded most of the C4 into Bobby's van, as well as several obscure versions of Revelations and an armory before bidding him good-bye. Five hours after Gabriel had rolled the Impala into the yard, the old car drove out with moody Dean in the driver's seat, pensive Sam riding shotgun, and two high school sweethearts in the back, cuddled close together. For the first few hours of the ride, they murmured to each other, catching up, but Adam's head came to rest over Kristen's heart and he drifted off to sleep.

Dean and Sam refrained from any serious discussion, because she stayed awake, stroking Adam's hair, eyes fluttering every once in a while but never falling asleep.

"We take Exit 1A onto I-29 South, then we're in Iowa for a couple of hours," Sam said, folding up the map. He tucked it next to his seat and settled down. "I figure we can grab breakfast at in Missouri tomorrow morning, switch driving then."

Dean grunted noncommittally and it was on the tip of Sam's tongue to ask if he wanted to turn the car around and go after Pestilence. Instead, he turned to the window, watching the cornfields race by as he sank into sleep.

Sam awoke when Dean punched him (perhaps with a bit of malice) in the shoulder. It was still a little dark outside, blue with great streaks of gray announcing daytime. They were in the parking lot of a White Castle, which Dean had developed a sudden craving for. Adam was thrilled; Kristen less so. Sam offered to accompany her to the Starbucks across the street.

As Sam dug around his jacket for the bit of cash he'd stuffed in one of his pockets (at least he was pretty sure he had), he noticed Kristen eyeing one of the red velvet cupcakes on display with vanilla frosting and big chunky sprinkles.

"You want one?" he asked, startling her. She shook her head; he couldn't help but notice that her eyes were beginning to turn the same color as the cupcakes.

"The right thing to do would be get a sandwich," she sighed. "A nice, healthy something with, like, feta cheese and carrots or… oatmeal…" Sam laughed inwardly when she crinkled her nose in disgust.

"You can get anything you want," he offered, pulling a linty wad of twenties out of the back pocket of his jeans finally.

"I have a boyfriend," Kristen replied, as if it were a chore. "One cupcake is going to lead to nine and nine will lead to huge thighs and then he'll dump me because he's so embarrassed about his friends teasing him for dating a fat girl…" Kristen bit her lip in embarrassment. "Not that I've been thinking about possible ways your brother will try to dump me. Nope."

"Hi, welcome to Starbucks, what can I make for you today?" chirped the freckled barista.

"One grande latte, a spinach and feta wrap, and a red velvet cupcake," Sam ordered. He turned to Kristen. "Anything for you?"

"… Huevos-rancheros-wrap-venti-chai-tea-and-a-double-espresso," Kristen added in a rush.

It was still early enough that the coffee shop was nearly deserted, but for a suited man with his laptop and a waitress counting her tips from an overnight shift. Kristen slid down into a seat in the corner, letting her head fall to the table in exhaustion. Sam lumbered into the seat opposite her and she sat bolt upright, enfolding herself in her arms and leaning back against the wall.

"Are you okay?"

"Just haven't gotten any sleep."

The exchange hung there for a few minutes and at first they ate their meal in silence. Kristen all but inhaled her huevos rancheros and downed her espresso like a shot of tequila, then politely asked Sam for money so that she could get another one. Sam turned his thoughts to how they should confront the voodoo priestess Kristen was supposed to meet with.

Dad had taken them to Louisiana once for a few weeks. While he and Dean had been hunting a pack of werewolves deeply entrenched in swampy bayou area, Sam had contented himself with fishing off the shores of Lake Ponchartrain and reading The Once and Future King. When he'd finished that, he'd reluctantly taken Dean's advice and researched voodoo activity in the area. The practitioners he met believed devoutly in the superstitions, but seemed more interested in blessing rather than cursing. Those interested in curses were usually taken care of by a hunting couple that operated out of New Orleans.

He vaguely wondered if Dean had thought of that already.

"Kristen, did Dean make any calls while I was asleep?"

Again, her back stiffened as though she were startled.

"Yeah, but I kind of ignored it," she said slowly, going in for another long sip of her tea. "He was talking to the Lafitte brothers. And those guys are supposed to be dead pirates." She raised an eyebrow. "Or are they?"

"They're a couple of hunters we know," Sam told her. "Listen, before we go, is something the matter? You're jumping at every little thing I do."

"I'm just…" She breathed a very deep sigh. "You make me nervous."

"Nervous?" he said, a little confused. He leaned forward; as he predicted, Kristen hunched farther down into her seat.

"Yeah," she shrugged, keeping her straw at her lips. "I mean, you're all nice to me and a good guy and as far as I can tell, Adam already seems to look up to you. But you did just murder my best friend in cold blood."

"Are you serious?" Sam asked between clenched teeth, his voice rising a little. The caffeine deprived people in line didn't notice, but the man in the fine suit shot them a glare. "She tried to kidnap you! That hellhound nearly tore Adam to pieces! You remember, Adam, your boyfriend?"

"Logically, I know that. My mind hasn't exactly adjusted yet," Kristen replied in a small voice. "I just didn't think you and Dean made it a habit of killing people."

"We don't!" Sam insisted. "We do what we have to to hunt things, to protect people. To protect you!" Sam's voice had risen a couple of notches and the barista at the counter might have come over to quiet him, had Sam not been so tall and his muscles so bulgy.

"You were so detached," Kristen said. "I didn't think anyone could be that calm when they'd just taken another person's life."

"Janice lied to you and manipulated you," Sam pointed out. He lowered his voice to a hiss as he spoke the next words. "She was going to present you to the Devil on a silver platter."

"You guys were casual," she continued, "like you'd done it a million times. I'm scared you're going to make Adam like that."

Sam could've sworn he'd just had the life knocked out of him. He realized that without being cognizant of it, he had the exact same concern. Perhaps even the same one John Winchester had. The concern that, despite his normal childhood, Adam could grow just as angry and cold as his brothers if he continued to hunt with them.

"There wasn't anything else to do," Sam defended, though he knew it was a lie. A long time ago, Sam would have rather done anything than kill someone for his own safety. But family… that was a different matter entirely.

Kristen timidly shoved her cupcake away.

"I think I ate too fast," she murmured.

Although White Castle had little tiny burgers, Dean was okay with that. He liked to buy them in bulk. And boy was he hungry.

"Sack meal number four," he ordered. "The one with 20 sliders and four fries and I'd also like a large Coke. You want anything?" he said, turning to Adam.

"Oh, you know… the same."

"Think you can handle that?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sure," Adam shrugged. "Your leftovers too."

Ah, a challenge. Dean liked those too.

The cashier did not seem overly surprised at their large order and had it out to them in less than seven minutes. The joint was fairly deserted, but for a group of kids in a corner booth giggling with reddened eyes and a pair of Asian men moaning and eating with their eyes closed. Instinctively, Dean took the seat at the opposite corner, his back to the wall to keep an eye on his surroundings. Adam laid out the food on the table and they eyed each other warily before digging in.

"What do you know about Kristen's aunt?" Dean asked as he finished off his third slider.

"Not a whole lot," Adam said, biting into his fifth. Kid didn't know how to pace himself. "She was the town eccentric. Kristen spent most of her summers living wherever her aunt was."

"Seems a little weird," Dean pondered, "she didn't figure out she was Haley Joel-ing until now."

"She always used to see stuff when we were kids. I remember this one time…" Adam started grinning. He began to recall a particularly funny instance where Kristen had insisted that the town war hero Jim Bob Harris went to her church every Sunday, even though everyone knew he'd died from friendly fire in the Gulf War. He'd gone to church with her for their bet, but had just spilled communion wine all over her older sister.

Adam trailed off when he looked at Dean's lackluster face and stuffed another slider in his mouth. "Never mind."

"Nah, go on with the story," Dean encouraged, and it dawned on Adam that he was being interrogated again.

"Are you…" Adam set down his burger. "Do you think she's lying, that this is some elaborate scheme?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Dean said, popping a fry into his mouth. Thoughts of Ruby flooded his mind and froze on the image of her knowing grin as she shut the doors at the convent in Ilchester while Sam killed Lilith.

"Well, she's not," Adam said, tearing into another burger. "I've known her my entire life, sandbox and all. She's just used to doing what she's told."

Dean left it at that. Picking at Adam was just going to make him more stubborn. It certainly hadn't helped to question Ruby's allegiance. Dean let them go on with their eating contest in amiable silence, but something in the way Adam chewed around the edges of his burger reminded him of their father, and he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: the urge to talk to his brother.

Unfortunately, it took him ten minutes of chewing in silence to think of a non-Apocalypse topic of conversation that they could talk about. It couldn't be their eating contest, because that would be an acknowledgement that they had set up their own stupid eating contest. And to be perfectly honest, ever since he'd lost that poker game and 50 years of his life, Dean was a lot more conscious of the possibility of acid-reflux.

He finally decided on Jessica Alba, because every heterosexual man on the planet has an opinion about Jessica Alba. Adam, however, beat him to the punch.

"What's the plan?" he asked, belching a little as he said the words, "once we get to Louisiana?"

"Find this priestess," Dean informed him. "Sam and I are gonna look up some hunters we know for recon."

"Who are they?"

"Brother and sister team. Call themselves the Lafitte Brothers."

"Brothers?" Adam said, pausing as he stuffed the last bite of Slider No. 18 into his mouth.

"Well, she's a really butch lesbian," Dean explained, still hastening to finish Slider No. 15, "so they stuck with the name."

Dean smiled a little to himself—Stana Lafitte wasn't actually that butch. Sure, she wore men's clothes and played softball on the weekends, but she had possibly the greatest ass Dean had ever seen, with the exception of a few strippers.

"Are all hunters siblings?" Adam asked tentatively, raising an eyebrow.

"Some people hunt alone," Dean said. He shrugged and set down his burger. "Some are couples. Some people hunt with their kid. Dad and I worked that way while Sam was at Stanford." Dean leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms over the back of the booth. "It works for families cause it's a, uh, a generational thing. You live that way, raise your kids that way. Once you're in, always pulls you back. And then you either die bloody… you go crazy… or you've got a bottle in your hand til your heart stops beating."

"… That was a great pep talk," Adam deadpanned after a gulp of his soda. There was a moment of pregnant silence. "You think after all this is over—"

"I don't think that far anymore," Dean replied gravely, shaking his head. Contemplating if he'd survive, if Sam and Bobby would be okay, if Cas was getting angel-boarded, if he himself would end up in Heaven or back in Hell with a knife in his hand, it all made Dean a little sick.

"I meant the burgers," Adam specified. "You gonna eat your fries?"

... Cheeky little punk.