Chapter 11

The drive back to Pontiac was long and silent. Dean drove, barely seeing the road, still in shock from the events of that morning.

Madness. Ever since he'd come back it had been nothing but madness. Things were only growing more complicated by the minute rather than making any sense or staying put. You'd think after a lifetime of dealing with the paranormal there would be little that could faze then, but somebody out there thought different. Sooner or later the other shoe he'd been expecting would drop, and he was damn sure it wouldn't be pretty.

Not that Pamela would have to worry on that account. She'd already gotten her sandal, the boot, the whole freaking shoe store dropped on her.

The psychic had been overconfident and paid the price. But confidence was something you had to have or fake in this business or you'd never get anywhere. It wasn't safe, everyone knew that. But not in his wildest nightmares had he expected what she got. If he'd even suspected, he would have never gone anywhere near her. Yet another casualty of the Winchesters.

Dean's grip tightened on the steering wheel until he couldn't feel his fingers anymore.

He felt like a coward for leaving. But Bobby had been right, there was nothing they could do for Pamela now. And by going they might even be protecting her, taking whatever attacked her with them, since Dean was this Castiel's pet project, not her. The mother had burned out her eyes! Her freakin' eyes! What kind of monster could do such a thing?

Sooner or later someone would pay for that. He would make sure. It was the least he owed her. He'd learned a few ugly techniques he would definitely try on him, it, whatever, if he got the chance. He'd be sorry.

Dean turned into the Astoria's parking lot and shut down the engine, but made no move to get out of the car. Going inside and being trapped by four walls as they waited for news was not something he wanted. But what else could they do?

He didn't say anything as Sam seemed to come to life beside him, wrapped in his own world as Dean had been in his on the way back.

"I don't think I want to go upstairs."

Dean threw a glance at him, noticing the tight jaw, the roaming gaze. Sammy was as wound up as he was, and less than satisfied by events. "Then let's go walking." He took the keys out of the ignition. "You know of any decent joints around here? It'd be nice to have some pie. Been a long time since I had me some pie."

He didn't really want it, the circumstances not calling for any type of pleasure, but it would be doing something. Sam nodded as if he understood the thoughts behind the request. Dean wouldn't have been surprised.

"I think there's a diner a couple of blocks back. We could try there."

"Awesome!" Dean got out of the car horribly glad to be moving.

Sam led the way off to the right. The sun was bright, a soft breeze swaying the tall trees which lined the streets. Real life could seem so surreal at times and the last few days it had been doing it in spades. It was so hard to believe in settings like these people got hurt, died, mutilated each other, let alone that undeserving souls could be yanked out of Hell and given another chance.

In a place like this it would be easy to fool yourself into thinking the last forty years had never happened. Just a nightmare to be forgotten. But Dean knew better. He'd seen parts of himself he never wanted to face again. They bobbed just beneath the surface, waiting for any excuse to come up for air. If thrust back into the pit again, he had no illusions as to what he would do once he got down there.

Though the air was cool, Dean could feel perspiration pooling at his brow and back. Fear gnawed at his gut, a constant companion for about a day now and not looking to leave anytime soon. It was made all the worse by the fact he had so much to lose again. He surreptitiously glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

"That's the place. Look okay?" Sam pointed across the street to a brick building with lots of glass. A big white sign with red lettering proclaimed the place as Johny Mac's. Red door, red wide stripes on the glass, covered with white blinds. Home style cooking seven days a week. He'd often wondered if home style cooking was truly anything like home. One of the many things he and Sammy knew nothing about. But it sounded friendly.

"Sure." Glancing both ways down the street, they went on across.

Inside, the diner looked like a thousand other places they'd been in. Sometimes he could swear they all bought the furniture from the same company regardless of what state they were in. Typical booths graced the right wall, the rest of the space filled with small square metal tables with white tops. Metal chairs with brownish red coverings finished off the ensemble. Guess that while they did home style cooking, they didn't go much for looking like home. The typical lunch counter with an open grill setup behind it took up the back. Dean grabbed a table near there, making sure to sit himself facing the door.

"Order me a slice of whatever. I need to make a pit stop." Sam tipped his head in the direction of the restrooms off to the right. "Also, I want to call Bobby and get an update."

Dean nodded and watched him go, the sight of his brother still feeling like a mirage at times. He was sure if this was some cruel game of Alastair's, he would have shown his hand already. The demon was patient when it came to the art of carving and torture, but not about much else.

"Hi! Welcome to Johny Mack's. Would you like to order?"

Dean glanced up at the waitress who sprouted up beside him out of nowhere. Green tank top and jeans, the typical off color apron with pockets, thirty something with brown hair, and not a bad looker. He could have done a lot worse and knew it. He just wished he actually felt like taking advantage of it. Oh well.

"What pies you serving today?"

She gave him a friendly grin. "Peach, apple, and cherry. All out of chocolate."

His stomach actually grumbled in expectation. Guess there were some functions you just couldn't keep down. "Two slices of cherry, if you would."

She wrote the order down. "Be up in a jiff."

He spotted Sam coming out from the back, cell phone glued to his ear. "Yeah, you bet." He ended the call and put the phone away as he made to sit down.

Dean dreaded asking, but needed to get this over with. "What Bobby say?"

"Uh, Pam's stable and out of ICU."

"And blind because of us." Might as well lay the ugly truth out on the table. It was good she would live, but her life had been changed by them forever, and not for the better.

"And we still have no clue what we're dealing with." His brother's displeasure at the state of things radiated off him in droves.

It made Dean suddenly realize that despite everything, they weren't quite as in the dark as before. "That's not entirely true."

Sammy gave him a doubtful look. "No?"

"We got a name – Castiel or whatever." Dean leaned forward over the table. "With the right mumbo jumbo we can summon him and bring him right to us." And get some much needed answers and payback.

"You're crazy!" Sam's patented expression of disapproval was making an appearance. "Absolutely not."

"We'll work him over. I mean after what he did?" Didn't Sam think the guy deserved it? This needed to be nipped in the bud – now.

Sam's stare burned into him. "Pam took a peek at him and her eyes burned out of her skull and you want a face to face?"

"You got a better idea?" As if.

Sam sat back in his chair. "Yeah, as a matter of fact I do."

Dean wasn't sure he liked the snooty, know it all tone. Guess there were something he might not have missed after all.

"I followed some demons to town, right?"

He had no choice but to give his brother that one. "Okay."

"So, we go find them." Sam's little sing song tone had to go. "Someone's gotta know something about something."

The waitress chose that moment to show back up and put a piece of sweet smelling cherry pie in front of Dean then a second in front of Sam. "Thanks."

Dean grabbed his plate and brought it closer before reaching for his fork. Out of the corner of his eye though, he noticed that the waitress didn't leave, but instead pulled out the empty chair facing them and sat down. He gave her a stare, noticing her laid back expectant stance. He couldn't help but throw a questioning look in his brother's direction to see if he had a clue as to what the heck was going on. He could tell Sam had nothing.

Half amused and half irritated, Dean put his fork back down, not sure what this was about. Not your usual waitress behavior, that's for sure. He tried giving her a disarming, cocked smile, mentally tallying the weapons he had on him at the moment, just in case. He knew he was a catch, and anyone would be lucky to take him, but he'd not given out any signals earlier and not seen any from her either. Something was up. "You angling for a tip?"

She gave him an amused smile back. "I'm sorry, I thought you were looking for us."

Dean's heart gave a lurch as her eyes clouded over in black. All curiosity and amusement about the situation dried up and went. They had finally come for him. He watched her as she continued to look amused and glanced at his brother. That just made him feel ten times worse. No way was he going back and no way was anyone taking his brother down there either.

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean noticed a mechanic in a dark green suit and matching cap with the name badge of Roger as well as the fry cook behind him flashing their dark eyes to show who they were. The mechanic got off the stool and moseyed on over to the front door and locked it with a theatrical twist of his wrist. There were only five of them currently in the place at the moment, and three of them were possessed by demons. The only bright side was that whatever went down, he and Sam wouldn't have to worry about extra civilians getting in the line of fire.

Dean traded looks with him, his brother as keyed up and aware of the shit they were in as he was.

The waitress allowed her eyes to return to normal and stared at him with the soft smile still parked on her lips. "Dean…To Hell and back." She oozed with pleasantness. "Aren't you a lucky duck."

Someone really needed to work on her witty dialogue. What was she, three? He gave her an unfelt half smile. "That's me."

"So, you get to just stroll out of the pit, huh?"

His heart lurched again but this time for different reasons. That was just an odd thing to hear from a demon. What came out of her mouth next was even more so.

"What makes you so special?"

Dean's mouth couldn't let that pass. "I'd like to think it's because of my perky nipples." That sounded like a fine damn reason to him too, if he said so himself. He stared at the waitress waiting to see her reaction.

She didn't give him one. She just waited patiently as if having all the time in the world for his real response.

This was getting too weird. He and Sam were supposed to be out there getting answers not being the ones demons came to get them from. Time to change tactics. "I don't know. Wasn't my doing and I don't know who pulled me out."

"Right…you don't." Her lack of belief was way beyond obvious.

Coming from a demon, it irritated the crap out of him. "No. I don't."

"Lying's a sin you know."

This conversation was bizarre on so many levels. Being called a liar by a master of lies was a new treat. And it also told him a few things. "I'm not lying."

He noticed the demon's attention flicker to his brother as if wanting to verify what he'd just told her somehow. Though he didn't take his own attentions off her for a second, he could feel the coiled antagonism radiating toward her from Sammy. He wanted his brother left out of this.

"But I'd like to find out, so if you wouldn't mind enlightening me, Flo." He was rather surprised and pleased that his innocuous old, used up waitress reference scored a hit. All traces of amusement were now gone from the demon's stolen face.

"Mind your tongue with me, boy. Or I'll drag you back to Hell myself."

Dean felt Sam shift at the threat, waves of approaching violence shooting from him. It both thrilled and confused him, this not being typical Sam. He held up his hand, hoping his brother would see it and take note, not daring to take his eyes off her. Something wasn't right here. He'd spent way too many years around her arrogant kind not to sense it.

Only when she allowed her focus to slip toward Sam as his brother held back, did Dean dare shoot a glimpse in his direction. His brother was a cocked weapon, ready to bodily throw himself at the demon on his say so. He even shot Dean a glance asking for a go.

And that's when it hit him. That's when he understood what was odd about all this. The demon's attention slipped back to him. "No. You won't."

"No?" She tried for an amused look again but this time it fell short.

"No. Cause if you were, you'd have done it already." The answering look on her face confirmed it. He decided to go a bit further. "Fact is, you don't know who cut me loose. You're just as spooked as we are." He could tell he had her. "You're looking for answers."

He saw her glance at Sam again and had another epiphany. This bunch thought it was his brother who brought him back! Sam had survived being face to face with Lilith after all. He had been chosen by Azazel as his protégé, before his untimely and well deserved demise – so surely he had to have great power. But they were wrong. "Well, maybe it was some supercharged spirit, hm? Or, ah, Godzilla. Or some big bad boss demon. But I'm guessing at your pay grade they don't tell you squat."

Each word out of his mouth made her look more and more uncomfortable and only added fuel to the fire. "Cause whoever it was," and he realized as he said it how true it was, "they want me out. And they're a lot stronger than you."

He could almost feel her quivering in her loafers.

"So go ahead," he said, "send me back. But don't come crawling to me when they show up on your front doorstep with some Vaseline and a fire hose." Though he would pay money to actually see that.

"I'm going to reach down your throat and rip out your lungs." If looks could kill, he'd have been dead. Too bad for her it didn't work that way.

He had her now and she knew it. Staring dead into her face, he leaned forward as if to make the task easier for her. She didn't move. He'd never seen a demon so scared out of its mind before. It warmed places in his heart he hadn't known he had.

Humans would be the ones doing the pushing today.

Still staring her full in the face, Dean reached out and slapped her – hard. His hand stung from the blow even as the sound of it echoed in the enclosed space.

The demon didn't fall off the chair though it was a close thing. Yet rather than get angry or attack him, she just turned her face back toward him once more. So he hit her again.

He felt and heard the shocked surprise from Sammy's direction though Dean never looked his way.

As the demon straightened up a second time, he noticed her gaze flicker to his brother again. She truly thought he'd been the one. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Again she glanced at his brother then back at him.

"Let's go, Sam." Dean waited for him to get up then followed suit, still keeping his full concentration on the demonically possessed waitress.

As he'd thought before, a lot of their job had to do with confidence. And he had to ooze it now for all their sakes. He stopped beside her as she continued to cower in her chair, fear and false bravado fighting for dominance. He reached into his jacket pocket for his money clip.

Peeling a five from the top, he dropped it on the table. "For the pie."

Should have ordered it to go.

Dean made sure Sam was out the door before he took his leave as well. His brother started across the street and he made sure to be right behind him. "Holy crap that was close!"

There was no motion behind them whatsoever. They'd miraculously gotten away. Shouldn't have been possible. The demons had had them dead to rights.

"We're not just going to leave them in there are we, Dean?"

"Yeah." Like Duh. "There's three of them and probably more and we've only got one knife between us."

"Well, I've killed a lot more demons than that lately."

Just hearing Sam say it gave Dean chills. His brother out there alone -- killing demons. "Not anymore. The smarter brother's back in town." Sam would stay safe and alive for a long long time if he had anything to say about it. He kept their pace lively along the sidewalk.

"Dean, we gotta take 'em. They're dangerous."

"They're scared. Okay?" Didn't Sam see how insane it would be to go after them right now? How bad someone had to be to frighten that bunch shitless? And Sammy and him were the ones who had to deal with the thing! "Scared of whatever had the juice to yank me out. We're dealing with a bad mofo here – one job at a time."

He just hoped they'd be able to deal with it. This just looked stickier and stickier all the time.