Chapter 35

Dean liked the dog, he could admit that. They moved around constantly when he was a kid, but any time they were at Bobby's there was always at least one dog. Most of the time when he was a kid he pretended not to like the current four legged resident, while always trying to sneak the beast some of his dinner. Dean suspected that Dad always knew, and Bobby certainly did. Hillary was different. Not only did he like her, he knew she liked him. That was more than he had ever had, with confidence, from anyone on two or four legs. Dean trusted the flea-bitten mutt to do what he wanted more than Sam. Sam had a mind of his own, and used it constantly.

Hillary lay by his feet, her head propped up on his boot, while Sam had to endure Gabby's inquisition. If she weren't Sam's attorney... Then again, if she weren't such a bitch she wouldn't be so anti-Sam and wouldn't be Sam's attorney. He really couldn't stand her. As that thought crossed his mind, Hillary grunted and nudged his leg. Dean scratched her neck, silently apologizing for upsetting her.

"What is with that dog?" Gabby asked in her bitchy voice.

Now Dean realized everyone was staring at him. Everyone except Sam, that is. Sam was looking at him, but not staring.

"She likes Dean," Sam said, turning to glare at Gabby. "What's wrong with that? Most females do, you know. He's like Fonzie."

Gabby's storm gray eyes widened. "He's like what?"

"You've bonded with the dog?" Ralph asked, moving closer. Hillary stared at Ralph for a moment, then put her head back down on his foot. "Really?" He moved to scratch her neck and she growled. She didn't bother to lift her head or show her teeth, just made her displeasure known.

Ralph pulled his hand back, looking up at Dean. "You don't like me?"

Dean shrugged. "Anybody who goes after demons is okay in my book." Hillary growled at Ralph again. "I guess she doesn't agree."

Ralph exchanged a look with Gabby. She stood up and so did Hillary, this time with bared teeth. Gabby sat back down.

"Sam," Gabby motioned to Hillary, "go pet the dog."

Sam turned to the dog, patted his leg. Hillary leapt to her paws, lumbered over quickly to Sam, leaned into his touch. Sam grinned as he scratched her head. Seemingly caught up in the moment, he dropped to his knees to use both hands on the dog. Hillary turned to look at Dean.

"What are you asking me for? It didn't bother you earlier," Dean said to the questioning look. Her head cocked to one side and a whine came out. "Yeah, okay. It's safe. Go ahead."

Dean rolled his eyes as Hillary's massive body hit the floor, four legs sprawled up in the air as Sam provided a two handed belly rub. Bobby chuckled from behind him. "Damn dog loves all this attention."

Gabby and Ralph were both staring at him now. "What?" Dean demanded. "She loves pizza. That's all I did, I swear. I had Sam give her some pizza."

"This would make for an excellent defense," Ralph said, turning to Gabby. "Don't you think?"

Gabby sighed. "Not as a basis, but certainly as corroborating evidence." She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. Dean wanted to kick himself for finding the action sexy, because she was such a bitch. That would be like...hooking up with Bela. Oh, just the thought made his skin crawl. Problem solved.

"Sam, tell me, have you ever wanted to kill someone but been unable to go through with it?" Gabby asked.

Dean sighed as he settled back into his chair. The inquisition continued.

Ruby rode in the old sedan, wishing aspirin would work. Then again, a solid left hook would definitely help, it would shut up the idiot driving. He was some kind of conspiracy nut. The US government blew up the twin towers, professional sports were staged and scripted, there were chemicals in jet contrails to control the population, and his mother-in-law had his phone tapped.

She rested her head against the window, closed her eyes to the noise. Sam Winchester had better be worth all this. What could she do with a wimpy anti-christ? He had the name recognition, that was certain. With it, Ruby might be able to gather a group to force the others back to Hell. First she had to get him to agree to her using his name. Others had tried to fake it, claimed to represent Sam Winchester, but never successfully. There was something about Sam that wouldn't allow it. It had added to his mystique, to the rumors already circling. It was making Sam out to be more than he was. Of course, that wouldn't take much, admittedly. Why oh why had he been he chosen?

"And the whole electoral process," her driver droned on, "it's all part of the conspiracy to keep us under control, to keep the ruling elite in power."

Ruby slowly banged her temple against the window. If she hit her head hard enough, could she lose consciousness?

Bela batted her eyes at the bartender. "Actually," she said slowly, "I'm looking for a pair of brothers, Sam and Dean? I understand they're friends of Bobby Singer."

"Friends?" the bartender snorted. He looked like he had worked here since the place opened, in the sixties. Long stringy gray hair was pulled back into a rough ponytail in the back and he wore one of those stupid bright colored shirts that belonged signaling ships at sea. In a storm. "More like his nephews," the man said.

Bela couldn't help her startled reaction. "Nephews? Sam and Dean Winchester?"

He nodded, wiping down his bar. "I served Dean his first legal beer, right where you're sitting."

She giggled, trying to pull off the air-head act. "First legal? I feel there's a story there."

He smiled at her. "Yep. Plenty. I've known those boys most of their lives. But I never met you before today, lady." He leaned across the bar into her face. "And people asking questions, no matter how good lookin', aren't exactly welcome around here."

Bela noticed that most of the bar patrons were glaring at her. She tried smiling wider and another stupid giggle. Dean had quite a reputation for being a ladies' man. "But Dean told me, if I was ever in the area..." She batted her eyes again.

The crusty old bartender actually snorted in her face. Right in her face! "No. He didn't. Get out."

She sighed as she stood up. Bela ran her hands over her hips, smoothing out fabric that wasn't loose enough to wrinkle. With an extra sway in her step, she left the bar. Okay, so information gathering was a long shot, she knew that. It would have to be good, old fashioned leg work, just like Daddy said. Sometimes the old ways were the best ways.

Bela drove her rental car over to Bobby Singer's neighborhood. She parked up the street before making her way to Singer's salvage yard. Unfortunately she was wearing the wrong shoes to do any real skulking, but she definitely had the right place. Out of pure curiosity, Bela crept up the drive that wound through stacks of decrepit piles of what used to be cars. When the house came into view, she gasped. Dean's precious Impala was parked outside Singer's house! She stared for a moment, unable to fully believe her amazing luck.

Reluctantly, Bela headed back. With this much good luck, breaking into Bobby Singer's home to steal the amulet without more planning would undoubtedly be pushing it. Now that she knew where Dean was, it being extremely unlikely that he would allow even his brother to take his car without him, Bela could keep an eye on the place while she planned. Also, she needed to call her buyer, make arrangements for the sale. Bela had no intention of that amulet being in her possession any longer than necessary. Dean Winchester was crazy.

Just before she reached the street, she heard loud barking coming from the house. Bela slipped off her high heeled shoes, clutched them tightly in her hands as she ran to her rental. The barking gained on her, but she had a pretty good lead. Her hose shredded on the asphalt as she ran. Bela fell into the driver's seat, slamming the door closed. She threw the shoes in the floorboard and started the car. Pulling out with a squeal of tires, she fully intended to run straight over the huge beast chasing her down the street, but the monster of a dog made a miraculous leap over a deep ditch. Bela ignored the dog, if it was indeed a dog and not a small furry charging elephant, to speed off down the street. Several figures stood in the entrance to Singer's Salvage as she raced by. She would have to get rid of the rental.

"Hillary!" Dean shouted, glaring at the dog in a way that sent chills up Bobby's spine. "What were thinking? You can't take on a car, you stupid mutt!"

She whined, head low, slowly approaching Dean. He blew out a sigh, dropped to his knees and patted his chest. "Get over here, stupid."

Hillary sprang into action, leaping at Dean. Front paws landed on Dean's shoulders and she energetically licked at his face. Dean turned away, chuckling. He rubbed her fur. Next thing Bobby knew, man and dog were rolling on the ground in an affectionate wrestling match.

Sam nudged him in the ribs. "I didn't even know Dean liked dogs," he said.

"I did," Bobby replied, grinning at the pair on the ground. "But not that much."

Dean shoved the dog away, lying on his back. "Little help?"

Sam was there in an instant, pulling his brother up to his feet. Hillary bounded to Dean's side, her head bumping his thigh.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said with a chuckle as he brushed himself off, "you were right about someone being out here. Happy?"

Hillary made a weird noise, deep in her throat. Dean rolled his eyes. "Hear that?" he demanded.

Bobby exchanged a confused glance with Sam. "Hear what?"

"Hillary." Dean beat more dirt off of himself. "Bobby, do you usually give her a treat for chasing people off after hours?"

Bobby nodded. "Usually a nice chunk of steak."

"Steak?" Dean stared unbelieving down at her. "You get steak? God, you're spoiled."

Another strange noise from the dog. Dean huffed, rolling his eyes again. "You owe the mutt some steak, Bobby. And trust me, she isn't going to shut up about it."

Sam chuckled, beaming at Dean as he wrapped an arm over his brother's shoulders. Hillary pranced right next to them, eyes pinned to Dean. Bobby thought maybe he should be on the lookout for a new dog, because one thing was for damned sure: Hillary wasn't his any more. At least the damn dog had good taste.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at Bobby as Dean and Hillary went into the house. He paused just outside the door, waiting for Bobby to catch up.

"Bobby?" Sam whispered. "Does this type of thing happen often?" He gestured toward the entrance to the salvage yard.

Bobby shrugged, unconcerned. "It happens, Sam. It's not like it was the first time. There's a reason I keep big dogs around, you know."

"Yeah, it's just..." Sam stared out into the darkness. "I thought you had the dogs to warn you of demons."

"That too." Bobby shook his shoulder gently, alarmed by how distant Sam looked. "Sam? You all right? You look a million miles away."

Sam turned worried eyes on him. "Bobby, is there such a thing as a helpful demon?"

Bobby laughed, amazed Sam would ask such a question. The last time Sam asked something that stupid the boy was what – nine? "All demons have an agenda, Sam. Why? Something happen?" He glanced back toward the road too.

Sam shook his head, pushing through the half-open door after his brother. Somehow Bobby had the feeling that he had let the youngest Winchester down, but he had no idea how.

Michael frowned as he watched the human woman drive away from Singer's place. It violated several rules of the court, but Michael found that he was drawn to the Winchesters. He felt a compulsion to check up on them, make sure they were all right.

That woman was disturbing. Michael knew who she was but not why she was there. Bela caused trouble and left anger and resentment in her wake. People like her were the reason churches, mosques and synagogues had empty seats. She had no conscience, no remorse, not a single care for the people she hurt to get what she wanted. There were a number of things Michael would like to do with a human like that, and in the old days it had been allowed.

He followed her back to the outskirts of town. She parked the car at a bar, walked two blocks away and made a call on her cell phone. Bela continued walking until a cab pulled up ten minutes and a mile later. The cab drove her to the center of town and a nice hotel. If she were at least possessed, he would have cause to question her.

Michael returned to the agreed upon meeting place where Gabriel and Raphael waited for him. They did not speak, holding hands in a circle. Michael raised his face up and brilliant light struck him from above, despite the lateness of the night.

When the brilliant light dissipated, Michael was able to look around him. The room they stood in was massive, representing the highest court of every land, every religion, every people. A row of empty seats ringed one side of the room, where the council would sit in judgment of Sam Winchester.

Raphael stood in the exact center of the room. "We are here for the preliminaries," he announced, ghosts of thunder and storm winds in his voice.

The empty seats shimmered with radiance as angelic hosts filled them. Though Michael had seen this sight many times over the course of his lifetime, it never ceased to fill him with amazement. He bowed his head in respect to the council.

"The prosecution may speak." A disembodied voice made the intentions of the council known.

Michael lifted his head to address the council. "Sam Winchester was infected as an infant with the demonic blood of Azazel. When his abilities began to surface, they included empathy, which was particularly strong with his brother, Dean Winchester - the same Dean who later became the firsthuman to face down an archangel and win."

Their mouths did not move, but an excited murmur went through the council.

"The defense may speak," the same voice announced.

Gabriel cleared her throat before speaking. "A full trial would be a waste of the council's time. Sam Winchester is no longer infected by Azazel, and even when he was, fought against the infection to the point that he nearly rendered it impotent."

"The destruction of the infection is not in evidence," Michael stated.

"Neither is the infection," Gabriel argued. Michael silently thanked her for that.

"Silence while the council deliberates."

Michael shifted uneasily, catching Raphael's eye. He hated trials, always had. Michael preferred action. Give him a sword and a target, he was most comfortable then. The verbal sparring wore on him, depressed him beyond endurance. He tried to stay neutral in most conflicts just to avoid appearing in court like this. Once again, the Winchesters had drawn him in.

Then Michael felt a ripple in the air, a pressure against his spine in the lower back. Dean. He concentrated on the feeling in his spine, waited for the bright green beam to show him what Dean was doing. Nothing happened. Confused, Michael concentrated harder. Still nothing.

"Michael," the voice of the council reverberated through the room, "within the court, you may have no connection with anyone. You know this."

Michael bowed his head again. "My apologies to the council."

The spot on his spine increased, sent a shooting pain along his back. Michael gasped, staggering to the side. "Go," he hissed as he grabbed Raphael's shoulder. "We have to go."

Another murmur shot through the council as the hosts and the room faded from sight. When his feet touched soil, the pain in his back multiplied, sending Michael crashing to his knees. "Dean," he mumbled to Raphael's shocked expression. "In trouble. Hurry."

"Where?" Raphael asked, his hands tight on Michael's shoulders.

Michael did not have to wait. The beam of green light shot from him, connecting him with Dean. He couldn't see what was happening, something blocked that, but Dean had to be in a lot of trouble with all this pain. "Go to Singer, he'll know," he gasped.

"We'll go," Raphael stated in the voice Michael knew better than to argue with. The world around them faded away, replaced by Singer's Salvage. Michael struggled to pull in air through the pain. Why was he the only one who felt this? Why not the others? When the thing with Dean's arm happened, it touched them all. Raphael should not be looking at him like this, he should be writhing in the dirt alongside Michael.

Raphael half-carried him to the door, easily kicking it open. Singer's wards did not apply to angels. He squeezed his eyes against a fresh wave of pain as Raphael dragged him across the threshold.

"Hey!" Raphael's voice boomed with the strength of a thunderstorm. "Anybody here!"

"Mike!" Despite the pain, Michael felt a rush of relief at the sound of Dean's voice. "Dude, what happened?"

Michael struggled to open his eyes. Dean's face, full of worry and concern, stared down at him. Michael grabbed Dean's face with one hand, pulled him in a little closer. "What happened?" he asked, hearing how weak his voice sounded. "What came after you?"

Dean glanced away before looking straight at him. "Mike? What are you talking about? Nothing came after us." Dean pulled Mike's hand away, held it in his own. "But what happened to you? You look like shit."

Relieved that Dean said he was fine, Michael closed his eyes and went to a place where there was no pain. As the warm, protective darkness closed around him, he wondered if humans dreamed when they slept the way angels did.