"The Apocalypse?" Dean couldn't believe what he was saying. "Like the end of the world?"
After seeing New Orleans, he knew things were bad, but that was almost unbelievable—almost. He reassessed his idea of what was possible when he realized that he had just woken up thirty years in the future. There were probably going to be a lot of strange discoveries to come, so he tried not to completely freak out during the first ten minutes.
"There's more to it than just some big abrupt end," Kaylee explained. "It's not like one day a ton of people got raptured and the rest of us got rained on with fire. It's been a pretty involved process."
"I think officially this is… what, the tenth year?" Tom guessed while getting up and stretching after sitting on the concrete floor for what must've been at least an hour.
"Eleventh," Dylaniel corrected. "It's December already."
Tom ran his fingertips along his mustache and goatee before muttering, "We're too old for this." A smile flickered on his lips as he glanced around the one-room building quickly to see if anyone else was watching, then wrapped an arm around Kaylee's shoulders, pulling her into a half-hug. He made a little show of looking at the hair on top of her head.
"You can stop checking, Tommy. You're the only one here going grey so far." She laughed and playfully elbowed him before he let her go.
Dean watched their interaction and felt a little uncomfortable at the realization that he didn't know the nature of their relationship, which seemed to be something more than professional. Their matching necklaces caught his attention again, with a new, unknown significance. He suddenly began to appreciate just how much he didn't understand about not just this world, but also the people in it.
December 16, 2009 10:30am
Ruby sat on the shabby couch rocking Kaylee anxiously. In the two hours since Sam had left, no one had really discussed his leaving because there wasn't anything to say. It was obvious where he'd gone and they couldn't do anything to change that. Ruby was the only one that had the ability to go to Hell relatively safely, but she didn't know what the situation was down there and if she'd be able to get to Sam, let alone return topside. At that point they had to wait and see if he'd be allowed to return…. If not, they'd have one more massive problem to deal with.
Tom silently came out of the bedroom where Belda and Bobby were trying to wrangle the other children. He looked briefly at Dean and Castiel, who were talking about which angelic choirs were combat trained, then inched away from them. He crept up to Ruby and climb onto the couch next to her. He had been incredibly withdrawn since being rescued sixteen hours earlier, but he seemed a little more at ease sitting next to a familiar face.
"Is that your baby?" he asked after quietly watching the newborn for several minutes.
"Yeah. Her name is Kaylee." Ruby managed a small smile. She was grateful for the distraction and conversation that didn't revolve around the angels who had slaughtered their family hours earlier. She lowered Kaylee slightly and turned her body to give Tom a better view.
"How old is she?"
"Just a few days."
"She has a lot of hair."
"Some babies do," Ruby replied. "I think you can blame that on Sam. He's her dad."
Tom nodded as he processed the information. Whether he understood genetics or where babies came from, she had no idea. He looked around the room thoughtfully and Ruby wondered if she'd accidentally brought up the painful facts that neither Sam nor Gabin were with them. She tried to think of something comforting to say, but Tom spoke first.
"She doesn't know what's going on?"
"I think it takes a while before babies really start understanding stuff, but I could be wrong." Kaylee slept in apparent peace, which seemed to lessen the subtle look of concern on Tom's face. "She's not going to be doing much for a while; mostly she'll be resting."
"I've met babies before. They need a lot of help until they're bigger," Tom commented in a very matter-of-fact tone. After a thoughtful pause, he looked up at her. "Can I help you?"
Ruby was a little surprised by the offer. She'd expected Sam and, to a lesser extent, the adults to be some source of support, but she hadn't expected a six-year-old to volunteer. Tom had been something of a leader among the children at the coven, but now that things had become serious he was apparently really stepping into the role of guardian.
"Sure. Do you know how to hold a baby?" she asked, causing Tom's expression to turn a bit uncertain. "That's okay. See how I'm doing it."
Dean had been watching the conversation from across the room while Castiel had continued to talk at length, unaware of his audience's distraction. When Kaylee was placed in Tom's arms, Dean walked over and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the boy. Tom leaned back slightly and watched him nervously.
"I'm Dean, Sam's big brother." The boy looked a bit confused by his claim to be bigger than Sam, so Dean explained, "I'm Sam's older brother. When I was a little younger than you, I helped take care of him as a baby."
"You must've been a buff four-year-old hauling a baby giant around," Ruby joked with a softness that betrayed her concern, fatigue, and gratitude that she wasn't having to expend the mental effort to trade insults with Dean.
"He actually was a runt until around sixteen. Kids at school used to tease him for being small. I guess he showed them." Dean smiled at the thought, then looked at Tom. "If you adjust your left arm it'll probably be easier to hold her. Can I show you?"
Tom nodded and Dean reached over. He shifted Kaylee's head slightly, allowing the boy's arm to relax a bit more. Tom looked down at Kaylee with a slightly furrowed brow.
"Are we really safe here?" he asked.
"For now. Those symbols on the walls are wards that are hiding us from those angels." Ruby said as she gently patted Tom's back.
"They weren't hunters?"
Dean's lighthearted guise was rattled by Tom's assumption. It was a strange feeling to be faced with the flip side of a hunt. A week earlier, he'd been mentally adding Ruby's coven to his bucket list—now he was nearly horrified at the suggestion that hunters could have committed the massacre. Maybe the boy didn't see any of the fighting or maybe he didn't know what hunters were like? It was surprising to think that Sam, who the boy seemed awfully attached to, hadn't corrected his misconceptions about hunters…. Granted, maybe Sam had never told Tom that he was a hunter.
"No. Hunters are just people." Ruby answered, taking some pressure off of Dean. "The things that attacked the coven were very powerful creatures. The coven didn't know how to defend against them, but we're safe here now. I'm sorry we couldn't get there sooner, Tom."
Ruby's eyes watered and her lips thinned. Dean tried not to look at either of them for fear that he'd also succumb to his feelings of guilt or pity. Tom leaned against Ruby's side and she wrapped an arm around him. After a long period of quiet, Tom looked up at Ruby.
"Where's Sam?" His voice was concerned, but not scared.
"He went to talk to a powerful demon to ask it for help," Ruby answered.
"Is the demon a nice demon?"
"That's a good question."
Sam found himself seated in a small, windowless office of sorts. The walls were made from light grey stone blocks that fit together nearly seamlessly. The room was just big enough to comfortably hold its limited furnishings: two floor-to-ceiling polished walnut bookcases, one six-foot-wide polished walnut desk, two matching guest chairs, and a more ornately carved polished walnut chair behind the desk. Sam was seated in one of the guest chairs, which felt a bit hard and too small. Crowley sat opposite him in the larger chair.
"I'm so glad you could make it." The archdemon greeted him with a broad smile. When Sam shifted in his chair, Crowley snap his fingers and he suddenly found the chair to be much more comfortable for no obvious reason. "Sorry about that; I forgot to dehex those chairs after my last appointment."
"Thanks." Sam was trying not to sound too snarky. He was there to ask for help, after all. "I need your help. My family's in trouble and I'm ready to deal if it means they'll be safe."
"I'm sure we can work out something."
"There are angels after us."
Crowley nodded as he thought for a moment. He seemed to process the statement better than Sam had expected. When he finally did speak, he was perfectly calm and collected. "Angels complicate things a bit, but we may have some protections against them."
"You knew about the angels?"
"Not with any certainty, but when a creature attacks my territory you can bet I'll start doing my homework." Crowley's voice only revealed a hint of resentment at the violation before switching to a more reassuring tone. "Hell's defenses against angels have been increased considerably since the attack. I doubt an angel could last a minute down here, if it could get in at all."
Sam dwelled briefly on the 'here.' He'd expected to go to Hell when he had decided to meet with Crowley, but it was another thing to do it. He looked around the room again, taking it in with newfound curiosity.
Crowley observed the reaction and smiled mischievously. "Did you expect it all to be fire and brimstone?"
"I don't really know what I expected." Sam thought back to all the times Ruby had told him about Hell. Each time he had realized just how wrong his assumptions had been. Now he was struggling to just take the experience as it appeared.
"Tell you what, I'll give you a little tour of the Citadel—that's where we are—and maybe a bit of Central District. We'll skip the racks and all the unpleasant bits that your imagination is no doubt filling in. You get to see all the behind-the-scenes excitement and while I'm showing you around we can chat a bit. Then afterwards we can really get down to business."
"I'm in a hurry." Sam felt tenser with every new pleasantry. He'd already wasted too much time debating whether to come at all. Now that he was there he needed to get it over with fast.
"Time moves differently down here. On Earth you've only been gone a second or two." Crowley tried to put his mind at ease. "You can afford to look around. If you agree to my terms you will be spending some time down here. You should at least know that it won't be spent over burning coals."
Sam's desperation was becoming obvious, but he almost didn't really care. Lives were potentially on the line. "The angels could be hunting down my friends right now. I don't have time to go sightseeing."
Crowley thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. A blank sheet of parchment and a black fountain pen appeared on the desk in front of Sam.
"List the people you're interested in providing protection for in the interim. I'll send out the scouts to find them. If they're still alive, they'll be moved somewhere safe until we finish our business here. Fair enough?"
"They'll be 'moved,'" Sam repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. "You're going to abduct them?"
"That's one way of looking at it. Another is that I'm rescuing them." Crowley smiled, but his eyes were completely indifferent. "I imagine most of your friends won't be keen on demons knocking at their door, but I really don't care about their feelings. Any that we can save we will, but you're right that we won't be asking pretty please."
Sam thought about the indignity and chaos that might ensue, but compared to the risks of not accepting the offer of help…. He began listing a dozen hunters and the handful of other contacts he'd met through Ruby. As an afterthought, he added the names of two college friends that he occasionally kept tabs on. If the angels were as tech savvy as Castiel had mentioned there was a risk of the friends being found in his recent search history on the laptop he had left at Bobby's house.
As he started running out of names, he paused and slowly moved his hand to cover the list in hesitation. Crowley was watching him with something more than casual interest.
"You're going to use them as hostages." It wasn't a question. Sam knew that was exactly what he was giving up.
"If necessary," Crowley admitted. "But wouldn't you rather be bargaining for their lives than just forfeiting them in the first place?"
Sam pushed the completed list across the desk in resignation, then hastily added. "And I want any of the surviving members of Ruby's coven given the same treatment. I don't know their names, but I imagine you can figure it out."
"Maji deals aren't as well documented as Crossroad deals, but we'll see what we can manage." The archdemon snapped his fingers again and the list disappeared along with the pen. "Now that the searches are underway, we can get back to business—"
"How long will it take?" Sam anxiously interrupted.
"Unfortunately, hunters can be difficult for us to locate or access at times. It might be hard to forcibly remove a hunter if there are salt lines or an anti-possession tattoo. That combined with the time difference…. I wouldn't expect to hear any news for at least a few hours our time, so you should try to unwind. Which reminds me—where are my manners?" The archdemon snapped his fingers again, summoning a platter of food, a decanter of an amber liquid, and two glasses. "Go ahead and have something. I know you're famished."
It was true. Sam had skipped a meal in order to give up his food to the children. Before that he'd only had two very sorry excuses for meals in the last two days. He didn't want to show anymore vulnerability or even really gratitude in front of Crowley, but he had no idea how long he'd be stuck down there. It was technically within his power to suffer through his hunger on principle, but he wasn't sure how much being stubborn would gain him.
"How did you know that I'm hungry?" Sam asked as he warily grabbed a finger sandwich.
"In Hell, with enough experience you can feel the pain radiating off of people. Different types of pain feel different," Crowley replied.
"Must be useful in negotiations," Sam commented between bites.
"It's delightful." Crowley unstopped the decanter and poured himself a glass. "Scotch, or do you have another drink of choice?"
"Just water." The last thing he needed was to drink hard alcohol on a nearly-empty stomach. Crowley grinned and nodded with approval at the wisely cautious answer. Sam ate another small sandwich, then realized how much better he was feeling. "Why are you being nice to me?"
"We both know that if you're desperate enough to contact me, then you'll likely say yes. The question is how much I can get out of you," the archdemon explained with the confidence of a villain in the final act of a James Bond film. "I'm willing to wager that I could gain more in the long term by making you happier and giving more in negotiations than by squeezing you for all you're worth right now. You already want to kill Lilith, and the angels are after you. I think you'll be surprised to find that team Hell isn't so far from where you stand currently. So I'm being nice because I think it will pay off in the end. If you prove to be needlessly uncooperative... then I'll need to rethink my technique."
Sam nodded in understanding. He was being manipulated through politeness, partially-veiled threats, and his own weak bargaining position. Crowley wasn't trying to enslave him; he was trying to recruit him.
Sam's academic curiosity was starting to embrace the otherwise-disconcerting small talk. "How often do you use the carrot instead of the stick?"
"Only when I don't want to leave any bruises." Crowley sipped his scotch with a little twinkle in his eye. "And bruises are traded so frequently in Hell that they're practically currency down here."
"I thought your currency was souls—or is the act of torturing as valuable as the soul it's being inflicted on?" Sam had always thought of damned souls as the main goods of Hell, but he hadn't really considered what purpose they served or the relevance of the torment inflicted upon them.
"This conversation is about to peek behind the veil," Crowley purred as he straightened in his chair with renewed interest. "Which I'll allow conditioned on a small agreement: many of the things that you see or hear about are extremely confidential—"
"You want me to promise to keep it secret?" Sam guessed.
"No. That wouldn't prevent you from still screwing me over if you wanted to. Instead, the small agreement is that: if we don't reach a formal agreement and alliance by the time you leave here, then you will have all of your memory between the end of this sentence and your departure from Hell erased. Okay?"
"Do I have a choice?" Sam asked, a little surprised.
"Not if you want my help," Crowley responded coolly.
He didn't like the idea of potentially having his memory tampered with, but he couldn't figure out a way around it. "Fine," Sam said through his teeth. He took a moment to unclench his jaw, then flexed his lips, trying to reduce any visible tension—not that it mattered. A few minutes earlier he'd been told that his discomfort was being telegraphed. He was screwed—he should start getting more comfortable with that feeling. It would undoubtedly become a very familiar sensation. "I agree."
The archdemon stood up and walked around the desk. When Crowley started moving toward Sam instead of the door, he briefly wondered if Crossroads demons had to seal every deal with a kiss, but instead Crowley just extended his hand to shake. Sam hesitated for a moment, then took it. A strange tingling sensation moved up his arm from the handshake.
"That's the contract being written onto your soul. It's much harder to feel on Earth and the process works differently up there, but it's basically the same idea." Crowley gestured toward the office door. "Shall we go peek behind the veil?"