A/N And so the chapter that did not want to be written has been written, thank goodness! Hopefully the next one will be easier to write. I really don't know why this one was so hard, maybe it was because I kept getting distracted by books and TV shows... Yeah, that's probably why.

princess moon shadow: Thank you very muchly!

Styxx: What did I do? What was so earth-shattering in the last chapter that made you want to bash it? Thanks anyway! (even if I don't understand what I did to incite such a reaction.)

Chapter 21

"Yeah, what?"

"Dean?"

"Mum?"

The Impala sat on the side of the highway, its two owners sitting on the hood. The call from Mary Winchester had shaken John and Dean immensely. Ghosts didn't call people on their phones, especially not twenty-two years after they died.

Plus there was the fact that Mary burned as well as all of her possessions. There was nothing for Mary to latch onto. But it was the voice of Mary Winchester; they needed to get to the bottom of it.

The sound of a ringing phone brought them out of their daze. Apprehensively, John pulled his cell out of his pocket, wondering if his dead wife was ringing him. As it turned out, it wasn't Mary, but Bobby.

"Hey Bobby, what's up?"

"You anywhere near Milan, Ohio? There might be a case there."

"Yeah, we're not too far from it. You want us to check it out?"

"If you're not chasing anything else. Victim was a banker called Ben, killed himself in his apartment. His wife found him, was pretty shocked to see her husband on the floor."

"Alright we'll check it out. I'll call if we need you."

"Sure thing John."

The line went dead as Bobby hung up, John turned to Dean and said, "We got a possible case in Milan, you up for it?"

"Sure, let's do this."

The two Winchesters were on their way to the local phone company. They had just left the house of the victim where the wife had told them that her husband had been talking to static one night. Static called Lynda. Having then done some research they had discovered that Lynda had died some years previously.

They were hoping that the phone company could help them track the number SHA33. A number that was last used when phones still had cranks.

Their hopes were fulfilled as Stewie, the phone guy, found the places where the number had called to recently. As there were quite a few of them, the hunters split up. Each taking half of the list and meeting at the motel room when they were finished.

Deans phone rang, SHA33. "Mum?"

"It's me Dean."

"How can I know it's really you?"

"You can't, you'll just have to trust me. I can help you."

"How?"

"I know a way to get you out of your deal. I can help you."

"Alright, how are you going to get me out of it?"

"I can help you find the demon that holds your contract."

John stared at his son, "Your mother called you again? From the number that's been killing folks? You sure it's her and not some half-assed monster trying to kill you."

"I don't know Dad, I just know that she said she could help me, you know, maybe it really is her."

"Alright, until we're sure that she's not going to try to kill you, we'll trust her."

The matter decided the two hunters settled down for the night, one to sleep, and one to wait for a call.

Dean stayed awake the whole night waiting for Mary to call again. If there was the slightest chance that he could get out of his deal and not go to Hell he would take it. As a general rule, people don't like Hell but they also don't like it when family members die.

He knew when he made the deal to save his father that he would have to pay the price. It wasn't a very nice price but necessary. His father was worth his soul and if his mother could help him stay on earth with his father he would listen to her.

The phone never rang that night; John woke up to a sleep deprived son staring at his phone."No calls?"

"Not yet."

"Okay well, you wanna do some more digging?" The shrill ringtone of John's phone broke their conversation. "Hello?"

"John? You said that if anything happened I should call you. Something happened."

"Alright, just sit tight and I'll be there soon," he hang up and said to Dean, "One of the possible victims I talked to yesterday has something. Why don't you stay here and do some more research?"

"Yeah, sure."

The older hunter nodded, grabbed his gun and left to deal with the new development. The younger returned his attention to his phone.

Dean stepped into the deserted house; his mother had told him that this was where the demon lived. After making sure that the demon wasn't currently in residence Dean started his preparations. Devil's trap under the carpet, bottle of holy water and the knife Ruby had given him.

Everything was ready, now he just had to wait for the demon to come home.

"Dean it's not Mary, it's a Crocotta. Whatever it's told you, don't believe it. I'm headed to the phone company now. Crocotta's live in squalor which explains all the flies we saw."

The Crocotta grinned and replied in Dean's voice, "A Crocotta, huh. Alright, I'll see you there."

John hung up quickly and continued driving to the phone company. He needed to stop the Crocotta before anyone else killed themselves.

Dean grinned as a car pulled up onto the driveway of the house he was in. It was time to get out of his deal. He unscrewed the cap on the holy water bottle, ready to douse the demon when it came in.

The door opened, a man walked in and Dean attacked. Before he could use the water, the demon knocked it out of his hand. He groaned inwardly and reached for the knife, before he could get it the demon punched him.

The two then started to scramble around punching the other and trying to get the higher ground. The demon was going on about something to do with Dean killing his daughter, making no sense at all.

The underground room of the phone company was empty apart from the worker who had assisted John and Dean before. John approached him silently, knife held at the ready. He lunged forward and pressed the knife to Stewie's neck.

"I know what you are."

"What?"

"And I know how to kill you."

"Mister, please, what are you doing?"

John halted in his tracks; this wasn't how he thought the Crocotta would behave. He didn't get long to think about that before someone knocked him in the back of his head with a baseball bat.

When he came to it was to find himself tied to a chair, Stewie also tied to a chair behind him begging for his life.

"Clark! What's going on? Why are you doing this? We're friends aren't we? What are you doing with the knife? You're a good man Clark! You're not a killer!"

Clark, who John guessed was the Crocotta, smirked at Stewie and turned to John. "What do you think John, am I a good man?"

"Just leave him alone," John replied.

"I would if I had had more than a salad for lunch. But I didn't so I'm starving," so saying he plunged the knife he took from the hunter into Stewie's chest. Sucking up the life essence from the now dead man and taking the knife out of his inert body.

John stared at him, "The phone call I had with Dean earlier, that was you."

The Crocotta shrugged, "Some calls I make, some calls I take but you have to admit I had you fooled for a while. I've already started to kill your brother and now I'll take care of you."

While it had been talking John had been loosening the bonds holding his hands tied together. Now, he was free and lunged for the Crocotta, battling for the knife. The two fought against each other, each trying to gain the upper hand. The hunter smashed the monster into the wall and the knife went skittering across the floor.

The fight halted as they both looked towards it before resuming with new determination. John twisted the two of them around so that the Crocotta's back was facing some metal spikes. With one final burst of determination John shoved the Crocotta into the spikes, killing it instantly.

"My daughter was nine years old!"

"I didn't kill her! I don't know what you're going on about!" Dean was sick of hearing this man yell at him for doing something he didn't do.

"Then why are you here?" he asks anguished.

Dean thinks for a moment and then replies, "I don't know."

"I see they improved your face," Dean says, tending a cut above his eye as he looks towards the bashed up face of his father.

John sniggered, "Right back at ya."

The two moved from the bathroom into the main motel room and sat on separate beds. "So, Crocotta, huh?" Dean inquired.

"Yep."

"That would explain the mess at the phone company."

"Yeah it would. Look, I'm sorry it wasn't Mary."

"Nah, I should have known that it wasn't her. Ghosts and spirits don't act like she did. I just wanted to believe so badly that there was a way outta this. I mean I'm staring fown the barrel at this thing. You know, Hell. For real, forever, and I just..."

John nodded, "Yeah."

"I'm scared, Dad. I'm really scared."

"I know son, I know.""I guess I was willing to believe anything. You know, the last act of a desperate man."

"There's nothing wrong with having hope, Dean."

"Hope doesn't get you jack squat. I can't expect someone to show up with some miracle at the last minute. I can't expect anybody to, you know, I mean the only person that can get me out of this thing is me."

"And me."

Dean looked incredulously at his father, "And me?"

"What?"

"Deep revelation, having a real moment here, that's what you come back with? And me?"

"Uh...do you want a poem?"

"Moment's gone," Dean replied as he shook his head and turned away from the conversation by switching the TV on. John went to the fridge, grabbed two beers and gave one to Dean. The two sat together in silence watching the flicker of the screen as it played an unimportant soap opera.