Making the Deal
AN: OH GAWD IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG! What the heck? Where did the last 6 months go? Well, as you can see, I'm FINALLY back with another chapter. And I'm not going to promise anything, because I've come to the conclusion that as soon as I do that, I end up disappearing off the face of the earth for a few months. Guh... Anyway, you know how it goes, I don't own Supernatural, any of the characters or story, only the original characters and story you see within. Oh, and any reviews would be lovely!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"This isn't a good idea, Sam," Dean growled, pacing the small dim lit room of the Campbell compound as they waited for the rest of the team to assemble outside. "In fact, this is a really, really bad idea. Making a deal with Meg? That bitch would more likely sleep with Cas than work with us! She's gonna double cross us the second she gets a chance."
"And what the hell, man?" Dean continued, stopping his pacing to look at Sam in disbelief, "Samuel? What is he thinking, working for Crowley? Even if he could somehow manage to bring mom back... it just shouldn't be done!"
"Dean," Sam interrupted impatiently from the door, "It's time to meet the others." Scowling, Dean followed him out of the room to where Castiel and the Campbell's were waiting.
"Time to blow this joint."
oooo
When they finally made it into the dank, grimy prison, they were quickly attacked by what appeared to be a pack of hellhounds. The Campbell's were quickly overcome, and they moved on grimly as they listened to the screams of the men being torn apart. That distraction didn't slow the hounds down for long and they soon found themselves once again stuck between a rock and a hard place. Leaving Meg behind to buy them time, they forged on, determined more than ever to find Crowley.
"Can't see jack," the older brother grumbled as they made their way down the dark stairwell. Before Sam had a chance to reply they were blinded by a flash of light, followed by the disappearance of Castiel.
"Cas!" Dean hollered, before swearing under his breath.
"Dean!" Sam cried out, noticing Samuel against the opposite wall, his hand over a fresh blood sigil.
"You sold us out?" Dean asked incredulously as two demons came up behind them out of nowhere to restrain Sam and him. "Damn you, Samuel."
"Yes, and I have to say, best purchase I've made since Dick Cheney," Crowley taunted, announcing his entrance with the customary smirk on his face.
"Hiya Crowley, how's tricks?" Dean asked sarcastically, making a half-assed attempt to break free of the demon holding him back.
"Above your pay grade," Crowley quipped back, "Been working. Big things. Alas, you'll be too dead to participate."
"Really?" Dean snarked back.
"Shame I'll have to do away with you both," Crowley continued with mock pity, "rather enjoyed your indentured servitude." He smirked again as his lackeys dragged Dean and Sam away.
Once the brothers had been locked up in separate cells, they were confronted by Samuel, who tried to give reasons for his treachery, none of which the boys were buying. They both watched him leave, disgust at what he had done clear on their faces. They were not alone for long though. Two other demons came along, dragging Dean out of his cell and out of Sam's line of sight. Dean was dragged down the hall and into another blood and guts stained room where he was presented to ghouls as "snack-time".
Meanwhile, back in Sam's cell, he had used quick thinking to escape. Luring the unsuspecting demon guards into the cell, he managed to trap them using a Demon's Trap he had painted on the ceiling with his own blood. Once free he went rushing off to his brothers rescue. With Sam's help, the ghouls were quickly dispatched and they moved deeper into the building in search of Meg, who they could hear screaming in the background.
The room that held Meg was, following the trend, dimly lit and grimy. Smears of god knows what ran down the walls, and pools of blood collected below the table the demon was strapped to. Arriving on the scene of torture, Dean relinquished Christian (who at some point had been possessed by a demon, probably to spy on Samuel for Crowley) of the knife he had been using to torture Meg, and stuck him with it. Releasing Meg from the bindings, Dean then hit the fire alarm in the hopes of flushing out Crowley. It worked quite well.
Surveying the damage to the room, and the body on the floor, Crowley turned around when the alarm was turned off behind him, revealing Dean by the door, hand still on the alarm, looking very pissed off.
"You should be ghoul scat by now," Crowley commented almost in exasperation, pointing at Dean. Before he can get another word out, Sam whacked him over the back of the head with a disfigured metal pipe, knocking him to the ground. Stumbling back to his feet, he watched as Sam rejoined Dean at the door, where Dean had the knife at the ready.
"Really necessary?" he asked scowling, brushing debris off of his suit with short jerky strokes, obviously irritated, "I just had this dry-cleaned." Looking up, he found himself once again caught in a Devil's Trap. "So," he continued, slipping his face back into his usual mask of indifference, graced with the customary smirk, "to what do I owe the reach-around?" His face immediately dropped as Meg entered the room.
"Crowley," she greeted with a grin of a cat who had finally caught the mouse.
"Whore," he answered.
"Okay, you know what," she took a step forward, clenching her fist and using her magic to cause him to double over and cough up blood. Satisfied, she grinned again, "The best torturers never get their hands dirty." Temporarily releasing her hold she nodded to the brothers, "Sam wants a word with you."
"What can I do for you, Sam?" he inquired from his bent over position, ignoring Meg and pretending that he was not currently in a position where he couldn't act the usual smart-ass.
"You know damn well," he answered moving towards the trapped demon, "I want my soul back."
"And here I thought you just grew some balls, Sam," Meg quipped. Sam shot her a look of irritation before returning his gaze to Crowley.
"Well?"
"No."
"Meg," Dean said, cuing her to start her torture session of Crowley again, bringing him to his knees.
"I can't," he ground out in between each hacking cough which resulted in more blood to pool on the floor in front of him.
"Can't or wont?" Sam asked.
"I said 'can't'. I meant 'can't', you mop-headed lumberjack. I was lucky to get this much of you out. Going back in there for the sloppy bits? No way. I'm good, but those two in there? Forget it," he explained.
"How do we know you're not lying?" Sam questioned him.
"You don't. But it doesn't change anything. I'm telling you. Sam, why do you want your soul back? Satan's one juicy source of entertainment in there. I'd swallow a rag off a bathhouse floor before I took that soul. Unless you want to be a drooling mess."
"Sam, I hate to say it, but he's right," Meg frowned.
"Yeah, right." he cut her off. "I get it. Thanks. He's all yours." He turned to leave.
"Woah, what are you, crazy? He's our only hope!" Dean exclaimed. Sam turned to him, a frown creasing his forehead.
"Dean, you heard him, He can't get it. He's useless."
With a sigh, Dean handed Meg the demon slaying blade as she walked up to the trapped King of Hell.
"You'll let me back out, right?" she asked, turning back to them for confirmation. At their nod, she walked right up to Crowley, blade at the ready. "This is for Lucifer, you pompous little-" she gets cut off as Crowley grabbed her arm, pulling her forward and swiped her feet out from under her, sending her sprawling to the ground. Grasping the knife, he threw it up at the ceiling, striking the paint of the trap and severing the connection, freeing him. Now free, he threw Sam and Dean against opposite walls with a wave of his hands, as if parting the red sea. He turned back to Meg, who had just regained her feet. Quick as silver he retrieved the blade with his mind, willing it into his hand, whereas he then pointed it at Meg threateningly when she made to attack. She halted after seeing the look on his face though.
"That's better. You don't know torture, you little insect," he grinned triumphantly. With the sound of hundreds of wings beating at once, Castiel appeared behind Crowley, looking very cross.
"Leave them alone," he demanded.
"Castiel! Haven't seen you all season. You the cavalry now?"
"Put the knife down," Cas demanded the again.
"You the boss in Heaven? Heard you're losing out to Raphael. The whole affair makes Vietnam look like a roller derby," Crowley then noticed the bag in Castiel's hand. "Hey, what's in the bag?"
Reaching inside, Cas pulled out a skull and presented it to Crowley, "you are."
"Not possible," the demon replied, face draining of colour and emotion.
"You didn't hide your bones as well as you should have," the Castiel commented nonchalantly. Sticking the blade under his arm, Crowley turned to fully face the angel, clapping mockingly.
"Cookie for you."
Dropping the bag, Castiel glared at him, "Can you restore Sam's soul or not?" With a snap of his fingers, Crowley released the almost forgotten hunters from where they were still hanging on the wall.
"If I could help out in any other way-"
"Answer him!" Dean barked, not in the mood to listen to Crowley try to weasel his way out of the conversation. By now, Crowley was looking worried. He licked his lips nervously before answering.
"I can't," he admitted looking pointedly at the angel. As soon as that was said, Castiel set his bones on fire, resulting in Crowley disintegrating in a flash of flames so hot they heated the skin of those in the room. With Crowley now out of the way, they turned back to Meg, who clearly had hoped she had been forgotten. Backing up, she quickly did her disappearing trick, leaving the angel and two hunters alone in the room.
"Well, she's smart. I'll give her that," Dean commented dryly. "I was going to kill her too. Course, I'd have given you an hour with her first," he said to Cas, a grin on his lips.
"Why would I want that?" Cas asked, tilting his head to the side quizzically.
oooo
Three days with no word from anyone was making Pandora stir-crazy. Even with Seth there to protect her, she still hadn't wanted to leave her apartment. Without the certainty that Crowley would be able to help her out, were she to find herself in some sort of situation, it made leaving the building seem a lot more scary. Finally, at the end of the third day she couldn't take it any more. Deciding to man up and quite being a stereotypical damsel in distress, Pandora gathered an overnight bag and made her way to the door of her apartment. Standing at the door with her bike, she looked to the hellhound standing by her side.
"I'm assuming you can keep up with me on this thing?" she asked. Seth huffed at her and stretched, as if preparing for a run. "Right then," she muttered, making her way out the door.
Making her way down the darkening street, she marvelled at the sleek form of the creature at her side. Not only was the hellhound easily keeping up to her pace, but she also seemed to be quite enjoying the run. As soon as they reached the edge of the city, where the highway began, Seth pushed forward, increasing the pace and making Pandora work to keep up. She was glad for the challenge, it made it hard for her to think of the fact that she was riding down the dark highway alone. Well, not technically alone, but seeing as how no one else was able to see the hellhound, she basically counted that as being seen alone, and potentially vulnerable. She just hoped nothing attempted to attack her on her journey. That would suck. And probably send her already high stress levels though the roof.
After walking her bike down the long driveway into the junk yard to cool down, she parked it beside a rather nice black car that she recognised as Dean's. Glancing over at Seth, she firmly made a note to ignore the hound while inside. It wouldn't do any good to tip the hunters off to the fact that there was a supernatural being in their presence. With determination she let herself through the front door, trying to be subtle that she kept it open a second longer than strictly needed for her to enter the house in order for the hound to follow her. Clenching her jaw grimly, she wandered into the study, not looking forward to the conversation that was likely to take place. She was surprised though when she saw only Bobby and Dean in the room. Noting the tense looks on both of their faces, she began to worry.
"Where's Sam?" she asked quietly, as if breaking the sombre atmosphere was not a good thing to do. She dropped her bag beside the small couch Dean was sitting on and stood still, waiting for an answer. Dean sighed, leaned back against the couch and seemed to collapse in on himself.
"Basement," he said, nodding briefly in greeting. Scrunching her brow in confusion, she turned to Bobby, non-verbally asking for clarification. He sighed too, and explained how Dean had made a wager with Death in order to get Sam's soul back.
"So he's okay now?" she questioned, wandering into the sparse kitchen, dodging the hellhound as she proceeded to scrounge up some tea. With news like that, tea was the best thing right now to help ground her. Or at the very least, the process of preparing the tea, even if half the time it ended up going cold on the table.
"We don't know yet," Dean responded glumly, rubbing his hands over his face, "he still hasn't woken up. He only got his soul back last night. And it's not like there are very many cases where a soul has been retrieved from Hell, so we don't even know how long he's going to be out for." Wincing in sympathy, Pandora returned to the study and set the steeping cups of tea on the desk amidst the old books and papers stacked up precariously in piles. Sitting down beside Dean, she put her arm around his shoulder in an effort to comfort him.
"Have you heard anything about Crowley?" she burst out, unable to keep the question to herself any longer, dropping her arms to her sides. Yes, she was happy that Sam had his soul back, although worried that he hadn't woken up yet and they didn't know if he was going to be okay, but she was even more worried about Crowley. Dean seemed to brighten up at the mention of the demon's name.
"Finally managed to gank him," he nearly crowed, "Cas found his bones, and poof, up in flames he went." He punctuated his story by wildly gesturing with his arms. Pandora's stomach dropped, and she wrapped her arms around her middle.
"You don't say," she said weakly, praying to herself that he has used her idea to hide his bones after all. Dean observed her reaction with a look of confusion. Realizing he probably hadn't heard the whole story about why she knows Crowley, she quickly filled him in, with various interruptions from Bobby, filling in the details. At the end of her tale, she grabbed her cup of tea hiding behind the large mug as tears surprisingly sprang to her eyes. Taking a quick gulp, she relished the burn of the hot liquid down her throat. At least if either of the men asked why she had tears in her eyes she could always blame burning herself with the tea. She missed the thoughtful gaze Bobby sent her way as she busied herself with the tea.
"Don't worry, babe, we will find a way to stop this, we always do," Dean comforted her quietly, a sad look upon his face.
"Sure," she answered, letting her gaze drift over to Seth momentarily before focusing on the sky outside the window. "Not the first time, eh?" she murmured to her tea, pulling her legs up under her.