Get on up when you're down
Baby, take a good look around
I know it's not much, but it's okay
Keep on moving anyway
Keep on Movin' by Five
11. Crossroad Blues
Fairfax, Virginia
The three had fled Baltimore as fast as possible. Well, as fast as you can go in a car, as Hayley liked to say.
The area had been flooded with policemen, CSIs, and even a few FBI agents within seventeen minutes after the nice detective had called in the brothers' staged escape.
The three of them had been holed up in a motel in Virginia for the past day. Hayley hadn't allowed the Winchesters to take a step outside their dingy small room until she had cleared them. She had worked in overdrive for twenty-four hours, running from precinct to precinct. She incinerated every little piece of evidence, every WANTED poster, every single trace of the brothers' alleged crimes. Hayley wiped them off the face of this earth.
It was early in the morning, hour twenty-nine to be exact, when the door finally unlocked and she let them outside again. Not because she had deemed it safe, but because the brothers had finally annoyed her enough.
Dean, specifically, had driven her up a wall. She knew he only meant well with his constant nagging. He wanted to get her mind off what happened. But she wasn't in the mood to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit? or Die Hard. She didn't even want to watch the newest episode of Dr. Sexy, even though last episode someone accidently swallowed a bomb and only Dr. Sexy could save the poor man. Did he survive?
She felt like a kid who had given herself house arrest, all TV privileges taken away for a week. Her punishment was watching the brothers' silent arguments instead. As siblings they knew how to communicate without a word. And as a fellow sibling, Hayley knew how to interpret each stare, each long shared look, each throat-clear. They couldn't have been more obvious. And it annoyed the fuck out of her.
So after a day of being locked inside with them, she felt less like a hero and more like a contestant on Big Brother. Dean had also argued that she could just "zap them away" anyways when push came to shove and they were surrounded by a firing squad. Thus, she agreed and the brothers walked free again.
They went to a little diner across the street. The sun had just come up and dipped the quaint little street into a luminous orange. The inside of the diner reflected that same happy morning orange, red and yellow flowers bloomed on the partitions, separating tables and giving each customer some well-deserved privacy while they consumed their food.
Dean ordered pancakes with multiple sides of bacon and Sam opted for oatmeal and a grapefruit with a glass of freshly pressed orange juice. Hayley, on the other hand, had her laptop sprawled open as she sat next to Sam. Her glasses were glued to her eyes and her forehead was stuck in a permanent wrinkled position.
"Couldn't ditch the sweats, could ya?" Dean grinned as he observed her. She was wearing her navy blue S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt, nothing out of the ordinary, but she would usually switch out the yoga pants for something more outdoorsy. Moreover, she was hiding half her head in a gray beanie. But maybe it was a monthly type of thing and not because she shot someone for the first time.
Although, she had been quieter than usual. And when she talked, it was only a panicked ramble. Three times, the brothers had to keep her from dying her hair.
Ugh, blonde. Dean couldn't imagine her as a blonde.
Twice, they had kept her from fleeing to Mexico. Well, Sam did. Dean thought the idea itself was silly, but he wouldn't be the one to say no to a little fiesta in the South.
"So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database," Sam reported as he looked over Hayley's shoulder at the opened case files.
"Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something." Dean beamed.
"Not for long. I'm almost done deleting all of your digital criminal history," Hayley mumbled. "I already torched everything they had on physical evidence."
She pushed the few necessary buttons, a combination of keys, and voila – all traces of Sam and Dean Winchester were wiped. It was a temporary measure, sure. But she knew cops hated paperwork more than anything and it would take them a while to get all their ducks back in a row. She knew it was the right thing. That detective certainly would understand. Right?
Right?!
But Joe wouldn't. Was he right? Did she change? And if so, was it for the better? A year ago – hell a week ago, she couldn't even kill a lousy bloodsucking vamp. But now she leveled up to shooting people and erasing evidence from a federal database. And the torching – the torching was fun! So much fun…
"Hayles. Hayles! Earth to Speedy." Dean whistled, waving his right hand in front of her to catch her attention.
"Huh?" She looked up surprised.
She had spaced out on them again. She had done that a lot in the past few hours.
God, has it only been hours? It felt like another life…
She knew, soon the boys would get worried – more than just concerned looks. But she didn't know how she could stop her head from spiraling. Her mind ran too fast sometimes. It was hard, even for her, to catch up to all of her thoughts. The brothers made her feel like she was under a microscope. It had been worse when they were still hauled up in a tiny motel room. With windows that wouldn't open and no other escape than the bathroom or the closet. But it wasn't much better now.
"I said we found a case," Dean said, looking over expectantly at Sam.
The two looked like they had practiced this bit while she had been stuck in her head. She sighed on the inside.
"Uh, yeah, architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed," Sam read from a newspaper article, he had sprawled out in front of him.
When did he put that there? Maybe she shouldn't blame them too much for keeping an eye on her. She definitely wasn't on her game.
"Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?" Dean asked.
"Animal control?" Hayley's curiosity peaked now as well. She took a look at the article in Sam's hands.
"Yeah, he said he saw a black dog," Dean explained.
"He called animal control two days earlier," Sam confirmed.
"Did he actually say black dog?" Hayley was surprised.
It wouldn't be the first weird case, but it was definitely up there. If true, she'd be disappointed. She was a dog-lover. But apparently nothing was safe in this world anymore. Not even puppies.
"Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive," Sam finished.
"Yeah, weird. Do you guys think we're dealing with an actual black dog?" Hayley asked them.
"Well, maybe," Sam said.
"Yeah, what's the lore on it?" Dean questioned and Sam passed him a few papers of research.
"It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say they're death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty." Sam shook his head in disgust.
"Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg, look at that one, huh?" Dean joked, showing a picture of a giant dog to Hayley.
She just shrugged. "Okay well, Greenville, Mississippi, it is then. I'll wait in the car for you guys."
She packed up her laptop and strolled on outside. Dean watched her until she had reached the car door. She seemed better as far as he could tell. But he knew a new case would definitely get her in even better spirits.
"Soooo…should we talk about the elephant in the room?" Sam asked, looking at Dean. But his older brother avoided his stare.
"Yes, Sam, you put too much product in your hair. Happy now?" Dean deflected.
"Dean, you know what I mean." Sam frowned.
"What, Hayley? She's fine," he said hastily.
"Dude, she's not fine. She has barely slept. When's the last time you've seen her eat something? Didn't you just see her space out right now?"
"Sam, calm down. It's only been a day. Just give her minute to process. Oh, and I saw her eat a power bar on our way here. And she also only spaced out for like a minute. So, we're good," Dean replied non-chalantly.
"For the third time this morning!" Sam argued.
He was upset and worried about his friend. Moreover, he knew Hayley had only shot Sheridan to save him.
"Dean, we're not good. She shot someone. Hayley doesn't shoot monsters, much less actual people," he continued.
"Yeah, I know that. But she's tough, she's gonna pull through. I mean we can all agree that the guy was bad and it was the right thing. You and I would've pulled the trigger."
"Yeah," Sam nodded.
"Besides, that shot was…beautiful, clean, fast, straight line. I wonder who taught her that…" Dean chuckled proudly.
"Dean, I'm not gonna praise you for teaching Hayley how to make a shot." Sam looked perplexed at his brother's insensitivity. Although he should know him better by now.
"You couldn't do it on your first try," Dean quipped. "But fine, let's go."
"I was twelve!" Sam protested before he followed his older brother outside.
Greenville, Mississippi
A few hours later, the Impala rolled into the Deep South. The three were able to gain access to the victim's apartment through a meeting with his business partner. The boys were wearing suits and ties, Hayley had opted for jeans and a white blouse.
She wasn't feeling quite up to the role play again. In fact, she had offered to stay behind at the motel. But Dean had been adamant that she'd come. He was only trying to get her out of her rut, she knew that. Only Dean didn't know it wasn't a rut. She didn't know what she was supposed to do next – a rare thing indeed. She always had a plan before. At least, a slight one.
The apartment was on the tenth floor. It was huge, a well-lit two-story mansion with a view and a small garden terrace outside. The kitchen was neat. Modern light wood with all the amenities a person could possibly need and more. Mr. Boyden certainly had style and done very well for himself.
"Would you mind if I look around and took a couple of pictures?" Hayley asked. She gestured at her DSLR camera to Mr. Boyden's business partner, who had agreed to take the tour of the apartment with them.
"Sure, make yourself at home," he smiled at her friendly.
She nodded at the brothers before she disappeared into the other rooms. She wasn't interested in taking pictures. However, if there ever was a black dog in this place, she'd find dog hair somewhere.
"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam asked Sean's partner.
He was in his early forties, wearing a beige sweater over his checkered dress shirt.
"That's right. Now one more time, this is for…?" The man asked rather suspiciously.
"A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest," Dean replied smugly, but Boyden's business partner snorted. "This is funny to you?"
"No, it…it's just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind…well, he gets another tribute," the man replied bitterly.
"Right. Any idea why he'd do such a thing?" Sam asked.
"I…I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life," the man replied.
"How so?" Sam asked.
"He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I…and it wasn't always that way, either."
"No?"
"You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyd's. A complete dive," the Boyden's business partner informed them.
"Right. So what changed?"
"You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing...he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart…" He stopped sharply as he seemed to realize something. "It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why…why just throw it away?"
"That's a good question," Hayley said as she came back into the kitchen. The brothers glanced at her eagerly, but she shook her head.
No evidence of dog hair anywhere.
Next, Dean stopped by the animal protection agency to check up on claims of big, black dogs. Sam and Hayley waited in the Impala for his return. She had her nose buried in her laptop, her legs sprawled out on the backseat.
"Anything new?" Sam turned cautiously back to her, but she just shrugged her shoulders.
"Nothing we don't already know."
"Hayles, you know you can talk to us about this," Sam offered after a moment of silence.
She could see his brown eyes were full of worry. She didn't like seeing him all twisted up inside because of her. She knew he felt guilty because she felt guilty. It was a mess.
On the other hand, there was nothing he could do or say that would help. She already had all the facts. She had gone over that night a million times, each time she did, she came to the same conclusion: there was no other option. At this point, she just wanted her thoughts to simmer down.
"Yeah, I know. Thanks, Sam." She smiled softly. "But there's not that much to talk about."
Her attention went back to her screen.
"Hayles, that's not true," Sam argued.
She closed her laptop shut and folded her hands gently on top of it, taking a deep breath through her nose.
"Sam, you were pre-law, right?" She asked hypothetically.
"Uh, yeah." He cocked his eyebrow at her.
"So, I'm sure you had a lecture on moral philosophy, ethics, something like that, right?"
"Yeah, I did. What does that have to…"
"Sooooo…you've heard of the trolley problem, right?"
Sam chuckled when he realized what she was after.
"Hayley, that's not the same thing. Sheridan was a murderer."
"Ethics isn't about being the same, Sam. It's about being better and…doing the right thing. If four innocent people were dying and needed an organ transplant that could only be provided by an imprisoned murderer, would you want me to murder the murderer?"
"Wha-"
"Remember we'd save four innocent, good people. One of them could be Mother Theresa…or Gandhi!"
She remembered Sam liked him. Would he kill a killer to save Gandhi?
"No, what?! I, uh…maybe?"
He shook his head as if to clear it. Her fast rambles were hard to keep up with sometimes.
"Look, there's no right answer," Sam replied slowly, remembering the words of his college professor.
He usually enjoyed these intellectual debates with her. It was more riveting than the conversations he had with Dean about the best 70s rock song, the most delicious cheeseburger, or the hottest porn star. It was a nice change to say the least. But this particular talk left Sam more worried than before.
"Exactly. Trolley problem!" She threw her hands up. "Do you kill one or do you kill three…"
Her head turned thoughtfully to the left car window. Her eyes watched the world go by. It was a gloomy and gray day. Not even the sun wanted to come out and play with her.
Fitting, she thought.
The gun in her hand that night represented the trolley. If she hadn't shot Sheridan, he would've killed Sam, possibly Dean, maybe even the other detective. But did sacrificing one life for the sake of other lives necessarily mean it was right? And maybe the problem wasn't even that she shot Sheridan. She hadn't particularly cared for the guy. On top of that, he had snuffed three people and was willing to kill a lot more for his selfish agenda. She knew he wouldn't be missed.
No, the problem was, deep down inside, she realized something. It didn't matter if Sheridan would've been a good or a bad person. If someone was threatening the life of the people she cared for, she would pull that trigger.
Every. Single. Time.
She was a little terrified to go home. Joe would instantly see in her face that something was wrong. That she had changed. And what would her sister say? Would Iris understand? Or hate her for what she did? And Mike…what would he think? After all her speeches on morality and the importance of every single human life.
Hypocrite, she thought of herself.
And then she remembered him. Ralph Dibny.
Three years ago, she was still a naive CSI. She believed every answer could be found in a book. She went by the rules. She believed in them. They were her cornerstone. Her building blocks.
Truth. Liberty. Justice.
The three golden words that were not only ingrained in the mural of CCPD's lobby, but her brain.
Dibny was a young cop, only a few years on the job. He was rude. He'd call her "rookie." He was condescending. He'd say her measurements out loud. He'd stare at her ass or whistle as she walked by. He was simply a gigantic douche. She could've probably gotten him fired for sexual harassment alone, but she was a five foot tall girl who worked in a male-dominated field. She could take the unashamed comments and the stares from idiots, who weren't remotely as smart as her. As long as she could do her job right.
But no, she got Ralph fired because she was smart.
She'd caught him staging evidence at a crime scene – a murder weapon of all things. But by looking at the bloody knife and the crime scene, she knew it didn't add up. So she told the Captain, and Ralph was suspended immediately. At the time, she was gloating. He was a dirty cop and had crossed a line. She had stopped him.
The worst thing, though – the guy Dibny had tried to frame, was a bad guy. He had committed the murder, and some others before that. She knew it, Ralph knew it, probably the whole precinct knew it. But she couldn't find the evidence to back it up. And she couldn't just fake it like Ralph did. Not after her Dad was rotting in prison, wrongly convicted. So she did what she thought was right at the time, and played by the rules.
Would she act the same now?
She bitterly swallowed, knowing the answer.
"So." Dean opened the driver's door and got back into the car, a devilish grin on his face. "Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty-three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real," he reported excitedly.
"You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?" Sam frowned.
"Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like." Dean handed Sam a bunch of papers. "There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh…" He pulled out a post-it and also gave it to Sam. "I don't know what this thing is."
Sam laughed as he read it, glancing back up at Dean as Hayley crept curiously up from the backseat. "You mean Carly's MySpace address?"
"Ugh, that girl still uses MySpace? What is she, a forty year old scene kid?" Hayley asked.
"Yeah, I didn't get any of that." Dean shook his head confused.
"Nevermind. On second thought, you two are perfect for each other," Hayley said with a smile, rolling back into her seat as Sam laughed.
"Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?" Dean looked questioningly at Sam.
Their next stop was a suburban neighborhood and home of Dr. Pearlman, a young woman and chief surgeon at the local hospital. She had called animal protection a couple of days ago, reporting a sighting of a black stray dog. The doctor's house was big and beautiful, definitely expensive but affordable for a successful doctor.
"I swear, if this is another fucking Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard…," Dean mumbled as they walked up the porch.
He knocked on the perfectly white door and a woman of Asian descent answered. She was about Hayley's height and smiled politely at the three of them.
"Afternoon, ma'am." Dean returned the smile, fumbling for his ID before he pulled it out of his suit jacket. "Uh, Animal Control."
"Oh, someone already came yesterday," the woman explained.
"Oh, we're just following up. We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?" Sam said and the three were led into yet another kitchen.
"The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago," the woman informed them.
"Okay. And you are…?" Sam asked.
"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid," she replied with a soft smile.
"So where did the Doctor go?" Dean questioned her.
But the woman shook her head. "I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?"
"Uh, no. Sorry ma'am but we're on it," Hayley promised.
"You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?" Sam asked the maid.
"Well, no. I never even heard it," the woman replied.
Hayley watched as Dean walked over to Dr. Pearlman's fridge. There was a photograph of her and two friends at a bar. Dean ripped the photo of the wall and walked back over to them.
"I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…"
"I read she was chief surgeon at the hospital. She seems pretty young for that position, doesn't she?" Hayley asked and the woman nodded.
"Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position…ten years ago?"
"Exactly ten years ago? Are you sure?"
The woman nodded again.
"Huh," the brothers both uttered.
"An overnight success. Ten years ago."
"Yeah, we know a guy like that," Dean agreed.
"Oh, look at this." He pulled out the photo again, flipping it to its backside, showing it to Sam and Hayley. "Lloyd's Bar," he stated with a winning grin.
The bar was on the edge of town, a small broken-down joint at the side of an otherwise empty dirt road. Dean parked the Impala at the side of the road, fairly close to the bar. Hayley hopped on inside. However, Dean pulled Sam back by his arm.
"You got a chance to talk to her yet?" Dean asked his brother curiously, referring to Hayley.
He thought his little brother would be better at the heart-to-heart than him. Sammy was the softie of the two of them after all. All he could think of telling Hayley was, Good job!
Sam sighed deeply. He didn't know what to tell Dean. He sure as hell wouldn't present him the same ethical conundrum Hayley had confronted him with in the car earlier.
"Yeah, while you were at Animal Control, chatting up Carly," Sam replied amused.
He thought if Dean thought of something pleasant, it would surely soften the blow.
But Dean couldn't care less about his current triumph. His face was showing signs of impatience.
"And?"
"Yeah, I think we have a problem. I think Hayley's in a deep philosophical crisis," Sam mused.
"Oh c'mon, Sam! She's fine!" Dean rolled his eyes back.
Those two sometimes could really be overtly dramatic. No one was dying, for crying out loud! Well, someone was always dying, but that wasn't exactly his point.
He didn't want to worry about her. He had enough on his plate as is. His little brother was supposed to become evil at some point, and his Dad…
Well his Dad was his Dad. Dean could probably finance a shrink's yacht, if he'd ever decide to seek one out. Not that he ever would.
And maybe…
Maybe he felt guilty seeing her like this. He had trained her. He had taken her in. He should've prepared her better. He should've warned her about this. The rueful awakening after the first kill. The guilt trip. The spiraling. The feeling when a bullet leaves the barrel. The goosebumps on your arm when the machete in your hand breaks the skin.
He had grown numb to those feelings. After all, he wasn't killing humans. He was killing monsters. It was the excuse he had conditioned himself to believe, even some of them weren't real monsters – like Sheridan. A higher level of alcohol consumption also helped.
He should've taken the shot himself. Or better – he should've dumped her ass back in Central City first time he ever saw her.
"Dean, Hayley always operated on a set of…uh, rules, right?" Sam pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Yeah, I guess…"
"Sure, she'd bend them sometimes but not break them entirely. I don't think she knows what she's supposed to do anymore. I don't think she thinks she's a good person anymore," Sam said worriedly. "Dean, she's gonna get herself killed."
"Yeah, I know," he admitted quietly.
He had seen it before. A young hunter becomes overwhelmed, gets themselves killed because they stopped taking care of themselves.
But he'd be damned if he let that happen to her. Not on his watch. Not ever.
Suddenly, he noticed yellow flowers growing along the sides of the street, where two lonely dirt roads met.
"Hey." Dean pointed behind Sam, walking closer to the crossroad. "That's weird."
"What?"
"Think someone planted these?" Dean asked. He looked at the array of yellow flowers, growing around on all four sides in perfect symmetry.
"Middle of all these weeds?" Sam wrinkled his forehead.
"These are, uh, what do you call 'em?"
"Yarrow flowers?" Hayley offered as she quietly appeared behind Dean.
He jumped back a little at the surprise.
"Bar's basically empty. Nothing in there but a few drunk oldies. Some of our victims seemed to have been regulars in there though, according to the bartender. What did you guys find?"
"Well, these flowers are used for certain rituals, aren't they?" Dean looked at Sam.
"Yeah, actually. Summoning rituals," Sam answered.
"As in demon?" Hayley asked, looking up questioningly at Dean. She didn't want to deal with demons again.
"Yup, seems like it. So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's," Dean recapped.
"Where there just happens to be a crossroad. You think?" The brothers shared a look.
"Sounds like the plot of that Britney Spears movie…minus the teen pregnancy," Hayley muttered.
Dean chuckled while Sam looked confused at her. Of course, he had never seen a Britney Spears movie. It was also surprising Dean had apparently watched it. Young blonde Christian girl on her way to Hollywood…
Nevermind. Of course, he had watched it.
"Well, let's find out."
Dean walked into the middle of the crossroad, measuring the center with one eye closed. He retrieved a shovel from the trunk of the Impala and dug a few inches into the soil.
He hit something hard – metal.
"Yahtzee."
He kneeled down, throwing the shovel to the side, and dug the rest with his bare hands. He pulled out an old box, completely rusted and almost falling apart. As he opened it, they discovered some small bones and a jar.
"I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt. And a black cat bone," Sam said as he picked up the jar.
Hayley grimaced. She wondered when she would ever get used to the gross stuff of this job. Not that she even was that squeamish. Her job as a CSI involved scraping off human fluids on a daily basis.
"That's serious spell work. I mean, that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff," Dean added.
"Used to summon a demon."
"Why would any sane person summon that thing?" Hayley wrinkled her forehead.
She had never been awfully religious, mostly skipped Sunday school. But even she knew, demons were bad. And associating with one voluntarily was even worse.
"Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good." Dean shook his head. Something changed in his demeanor. He seemed angry about it. Less about people's stupidity but more about their ignorance.
"They're seeing dogs, all right. But not black dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls," Sam realized.
"That explains the lack of dog hair at the crime scenes," Hayley added.
"Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough," Dean said.
"I don't think I could even outrun a supernatural dog from downstairs," Hayley said.
"So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?" Sam asked as they walked back over to the Impala.
"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music," Dean replied.
But Sam shrugged.
"You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues?" Dean seemed surprised at his little brother's lack of musical knowledge.
"Hellhound on My Trail," Hayley added and the brothers looked at her. "Blues used to be called the devil's music. Blue was also a slang term for drunk."
"Exactly." Dean jabbed a finger at her.
Sam just frowned.
Dean rolled his eyes in response. "The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs," he explained further.
"And now it's happening all over again," Sam realized. "We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here."
"Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play 'Let's Make A Deal'," Dean argued.
"Sometimes people do stupid things and make mistakes, Dean," Hayley countered.
"Yeah, so what, we should just leave them to die?" Sam agreed.
They both looked anxiously at Dean.
"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?" Dean mocked them.
"Dean."
"Yes," Hayley replied honestly.
In the last year alone, she had saved five people from jumping off buildings and bridges. She knew what desperation and sadness could feel like. It could be overwhelming. She would never judge someone for simply being human.
"All right. Fine," Dean sighed at the righteous duo.
He couldn't understand why they would pour so much energy into saving someone that didn't deserve to be saved. The way he saw it, everyone had choices, everyone had free will. Nothing was worth making a deal with a demon.
"Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing." Dean pulled out a small photo of a black man in presumably his thirties from the metal box and held it up.
"I'll run facial recognition, age him up about ten years, see if I can find him. If we're fast enough, we might be able to save him." Hayley snatched the photo from Dean's hand and disappeared into the car, opening her laptop.
The brothers shared a look. They knew she was dead set on saving these people, even though they weren't sure about the how yet.
And Dean wasn't entirely sure about the why.
After a few minutes, the laptop pinged and the three were on their way across town.
They entered an older apartment building, definitely not as nice as Boyden's apartment or Pearlman's house. The stairs cracked and squeaked as their feet made it up the fourth floor.
"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked, looking at Hayley, who eagerly walked ahead.
"George Darrow. He was a regular at Lloyd's," she responded.
"Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?" Dean joked.
"Yeah. So whatever kind of deal he made…"
"Wasn't for cash," Dean mused. "Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis."
The two sighed at his joke.
"Or he did something good. You know, saved someone," Hayley stated hopefully.
Dean chortled. "Oh, c'mon. This guy didn't save anyone. They're all being selfish," he argued. "I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun."
The three reached the door of apartment 4C, immediately noticing a line of black powder dusted underneath it. Dean crouched down, picking some of it up with his finger.
"What is that, pepper?" He questionably looked up at them.
The door sprung open and George stood there, looking suspiciously at them. He looked older than his photo. His hair had greyed and he wore an old shirt, filled with holes, and an opened button-down over it. He looked like a sloth.
"Who the hell are you?"
"George Darrow?" Dean got up from his kneeling position and took a close look at him.
"I'm not buying anything," he replied, trying to slam the door shut in their faces.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there, huh?" Dean said as he kept the door from closing by holding it open with his foot.
George let go of the door and opened it back up a little. His curiosity had peaked.
"Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt."
"I don't know what you talkin' about."
But they knew he knew.
"Talking about this." Dean pulled out George's picture from the box. "Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?"
"Look. We want to help," Sam said.
"Please. Just five minutes, sir," Hayley pleaded.
George looked at her for a moment. Dean knew what he was thinking: How could this small brunette with the blue puppy eyes possibly harm me?
So he let them in.
It was a studio apartment, crammed, dirty, and gray. There were paintings scattered all over the place, apparently all made by George. There was a table in the middle of the room. Once a dining room table but now filled with brushes, paints, and various other art supplies.
"So what is that stuff out front?"
"Goofer dust," the man replied. The three looked at him blankly. "What, you think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?"
George looked incredulously as if he was dealing with rookies. He tossed Dean a brown bag, only tied close with a twine.
"Well, we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous," Dean replied as he caught the sack.
"What is it?" Hayley asked as she looked at the bag in Dean's hands.
"Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons," George said, a soft smile appearing on his face.
He seemed to like Hayley. He poured himself a glass of cheap whiskey and settled himself in an old living room chair.
"Demons we know," Dean said with a laugh.
"Well, then. Maybe it'll do you some good."
"Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble," Sam said.
Hayley walked around the loft, looking at George's paintings. She felt sad looking at them. They were mostly black and white faces and shapes, sometimes with a golden orange mixed in. He had poured his last ten years into this. His art had been his life.
"Yeah, that you got yourself into," Dean mumbled audibly. Sam threw him a look.
"But it's not hopeless, all right? There's gotta be something we can do," Sam said, directing half of his speech at Dean.
"Listen. I get that you three want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one who called that demon in the first place." George seemed both determined and haunted by his decisions.
"What'd you do it for?" Dean asked in a mocking tone.
He didn't really care. He glanced at Hayley as if he was trying to prove a point.
"I was weak. I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just…I just never thought about the price." George's face turned sad.
"Was it worth it?" Dean poked further.
"Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings that nobody want," George explained.
"I like them," Hayley said kindly. Dean rolled his eyes at her slightly.
"Take 'em. God knows I won't need 'em anymore. My deal wasn't even the worst," George said. "Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?"
"How many others are there?" Sam asked.
"Uh, the architect, that doctor lady – I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous," George stated bitterly.
"Who else, George? Come on, think," Dean pressured him. He was getting impatient with the old man.
"One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for," George replied darkly.
"No. No, there's gotta be a way," Sam argued. Hayley came to his side.
"You don't get it! I don't want a way!" George yelled as he got out of his chair. "I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to Hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off till then. Buy a little time. Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help."
He finished his drink and abruptly tried to throw the three of them out. "Get out! I got work to do."
"You don't really wanna die," Hayley stated and he looked at her for a second.
"I don't? I'm…I'm tired."
George had given up. And so did they. But maybe Evan Hudson still had a chance.
Another suburban white house greeted the three of them. The sun had gone down in the meanwhile. First, painting the sky a dusky orange on their drive to Evan Hudson's house. Now, the sun had completely vanished, dipping everything in a midnight blue.
They approached the front door and Sam knocked twice before the door flung open. Another man in his forties stared at them. He had blonde hair to his neck, transitioning into a light gray. He appeared well put together – much better than George. He had probably opted for a monetary gain in his deal.
"Evan Hudson?" Hayley asked him. He looked at her confused.
"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's?" Dean stepped in. "Would have been about ten years ago?"
Evan's pupils widened, the color in his face drained out in seconds. He was terrified. He slammed the door shut quickly, locking it behind him.
"Come on, we're not demons!" Dean stated casually.
"Any other bright ideas?" Sam looked at his older brother.
Dean took a few steps back, looking determinedly at the door. He then swung his leg back and through the front door, kicking it down with force.
"Atta boy. Thank you," Hayley said satisfied.
She patted him gently on his chest twice, as she pushed past him. He smiled proudly.
They hurried through the house until they reached the end of a narrow hallway and found another closed door in front of them.
Dean prepared for his next kick-down as Sam caught his leg, keeping his brother from destroying more property.
"Wait." He looked at Dean pointedly, who seemed rather disappointed with a non-violent approach.
Sam carefully turned the handle of the door, pushing the door open slowly.
The room was an office space with an old wood desk and bookshelves all around. It seemed empty as they entered. They couldn't even hear a breath.
"Evan?" Sam called out.
"Please! Don't hurt me."
Evan jumped out from his hiding space behind one of the bookshelves at the end of the room.
"We're not going to hurt you, all right?" Sam assured him.
"We're here to help you," Hayley insisted.
Dean rolled his eyes at his partners. "We know all about the genius deal you made," he said blatantly and Hayley threw him an upset look.
"What? How?" Evan looked at them questioningly.
"Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it," Sam told him calmly.
"How do I know you're not lying?" Evan's distrust was certainly granted in this particular situation.
"Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy," Dean said coldly.
Evan swallowed hard, pacing up and down the room, thinking.
"Can you stop it?" He suddenly asked, a shimmer of hope appearing in his eyes.
"Don't know," Sam replied honestly.
"We'll try," Hayley promised, a hopeful look on her face.
"I don't want to die." Evan's eyes started to tear up.
"Of course you don't, not now," Dean mocked him.
The other two narrowed their eyes at him. Hayley even pinched his arm.
"Dean. Stop," Sam warned him under his breath. But Dean just looked at them coolly.
"What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?" Dean taunted him further.
"My wife," Evan replied quietly.
Dean snorted amused. "Right. Getting the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to Hell for," he jeered.
"Dean, c'mon," Hayley said quietly.
Finally, she had figured out why Dean was behaving so strangely. In reality, there were always just two reasons why he would act up: his brother or his father. This time, she guessed, had to do with the latter. She could tell Sam was suspecting the very same thing. His facial features had grown more worried with every minute. The two shared a concerned look.
"No. He's right, I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, that…woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but…I don't know how to – I was desperate," Evan explained.
"Desperate?" Sam looked at him confused. No one would be that desperate for a wife.
"Julie was dying." Evan looked down at his feet. The sadness came back to his face.
"You did it to save her?" Dean looked incredulously at him.
He didn't look at Hayley directly, but he could feel her beaming on the inside. She certainly wouldn't let this go now and leave that guy to die. She just didn't get it.
"She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying…a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot," Evan said resolutely.
"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean charged at him. Somehow Evan's reason seemed to be the worst of them all for him.
"I did this for her," Evan explained dreadfully.
"You sure about that?" Dean looked at him angrily. "I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?"
His voice was loud, filled with rage. And sadness. He had been feeling like this for months but had managed to keep it in – until now.
"Okay, that's enough." Sam put his hand on his brother's chest, pulling him back from Evan again.
"You just sit tight, all right? We're going to figure this out," he told Evan as he dragged Dean out of the office.
"Wait here. It's gonna be alright," Hayley said and Evan smiled softly at her.
"Thanks. For trying, anyways."
"You all right?" Sam asked as he followed his brother further out into the hallway.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea." Dean pulled out the bag of Goofer dust and threw it for Sam to catch. "You and Hayley throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon."
"Summon? Are you nuts?" Sam looked shocked at him.
"Actually I was thinking the same thing," Hayley said, running out of Evan's office.
"See? And Hayley has like a million PhDs," Dean countered playfully, looking at Sam, who rolled his eyes at his argument.
As usual, Dean overplayed his actual happiness. When would he ever learn?
"Eh, more like three, but a million is close enough," Hayley mumbled to herself.
"Yeah, and none of them are in demonology. Dean, do you even have a plan?" Sam argued.
"Doesn't matter 'cause I do," Hayley said.
"Whoa, you're not coming. You're clearly not in the right mindset." Dean looked at her sharply.
"Me? Might wanna hold up a mirror, buddy, and point at yourself," Hayley argued.
"I'm gonna trap the damn thing, exorcise it and buy a little time to figure out something more permanent," Dean explained.
"Yeah, but how much time?" Sam asked dubiously of his brother's plan.
"I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from Hell and into the sunshine." Dean shrugged.
"No. No way," Sam insisted.
"You're not allowed to say no, Sammy, not unless you've got a better idea."
Dean surely was tenacious. Sam sighed frustrated.
"I do," Hayley repeated, raising a hand as if they were in school. However, they ignored her.
"Dean, you can forget it, all right? I'm not letting you summon that demon," Sam told him.
"Why not?" Dean was generally surprised. He still thought he was good at hiding his feelings, but his brother just knew him to well.
"Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not," Sam stated outright.
"Agreed!" Hayley chimed in.
"What are you two talking about?"
"You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroad, Dean, and I think I know why," Sam said.
Dean took a heavy breath. He hated where this conversation was headed.
"We don't have time for this," he tried to ricochet as he brushed past Sam.
"Dad," Sam uttered the only word that would stop Dean in his tracks. "You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it too."
"It fits, doesn't it?" He turned around quietly, his eyes watering up slightly. "I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?"
Suddenly, he wasn't angry anymore. He was devastated instead.
"I think I hear it! It's outside!" Evan yelled from the office, interrupting their conversation.
"Just keep him alive, okay?" Dean told them as he started rushing down the hall.
"Dean, wait!" Hayley called out.
"Hayles, we don't have…"
"Sam's right. We're not letting you go there alone." He tried to argue again but she talked over him. "Look, I have a plan, just trust me, okay?"
He sighed, but nodded reluctantly.
Yes, he'd love to dump her ass back in Central City in a heartbeat. But he also realized she would never let him. She'd be where she'd want to be, no stopping that force.
"Come on, I'll tell you in the car."
Dean had floored the gas pedal all the way to the closest crossroad. The wheels of the Impala screeched at every turn he took.
Hayley didn't mind the fast-paced commotion. She calmly prepared the summoning box on the passenger seat next to him. Focused and undisturbed. Her logical approach to hunting could annoy the hell out of him, her detail to research and her obsession with facts. But he admired her coolness in moments like this. When she was working a job, she knew her tasks, and she'd do them meticulously.
Evan's home wasn't a far drive to the edge of town. Nothing was here for miles. The crossroad was empty, aside from an old wooden structure. It looked like an abandoned hunting hideout. Certainly not used for the things he and his brother hunted, but practical nonetheless.
Perfect, he thought.
The half moon only lit up the street so much, and a few clouds did a decent job of hiding the rest of the otherwise starry-night sky. He grabbed one of his fake IDs and threw it in the little metal box, which Hayley had prepared on their drive here.
He dug a hole in the middle of the crossroad. Hayley joined him after she had finished spraying the Devil's Trap under the Impala.
"You know what to do? You need me to go over the plan again?" Her voice sounded concerned, but he shook his head.
"No, I got it." He dropped the metal box into the hole.
"You sure?"
He looked at her briefly, his eyes determined and slightly annoyed.
"Alright, I'll be hiding in the shadows."
It would be an easy task for her. It's how she had started out as a hunter in the first place.
She was long gone when Dean shoved the last dirt over the box with his hands, burying it. He read the magic Latin words and it didn't take long for a demon to show up.
As he got to his feet, a beautiful dark haired woman stood in front of him. She was wearing a long black dress with a low frontal cutout, fitting tightly to her body.
"So. What brings a guy like you to a place like this?" Her brown eyes smiled seductively at him before they turned bloody red. "You called me?"
Her voice was soft, high. No wonder these guys ended up making deals with this thing. He knew that smile all too well from hookers he had encountered on the road.
"I'm just glad it worked." He faked his best smile.
"First time?" She smirked flirtatiously.
"You could say that." His answer was timid and innocent enough.
"Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short." She caught his act. "I know all about you, Dean Winchester." She pronounced his name with curiosity.
Her eyes glow red for a moment.
"So, you know who I am."
He couldn't hide his surprised look. He wouldn't have given himself that much credit. It surely wasn't a positive occurrence to be the talk of fucking Hell.
"I get the newsletter," the demon replied sheepishly.
"Well, don't keep me in suspense. What have you heard?"
"Well, I heard you were handsome…"
She took a few steps closer to him, mustering him up and down, licking her lips seductively. "But, you're just edible. What can I do for you, Dean?" A devilish smile played across her lips.
"Maybe we should do this in my car. Nice and private," he smiled at her smugly.
He would flirt his way out of this, no matter what. He felt like he had prepared for this moment since his teenage years.
"Sounds good to me." She bit down on her bottom lip.
They strolled to the Impala, almost like two kids drunk in love.
"So I was hoping we could strike a deal," Dean said, a slight smirk on his face.
"That's what I do."
"I want Evan Hudson released from his contract." His voice changed tone. It was harder now. The playfulness was lost. They were back to business.
"Hmm. So sorry, darling. That's not negotiable." She shook her head with a laugh.
He sighed internally. It looked like he had to beg for this one. "I'll make it worth your while," he offered innocently.
"Oh, really? What are you offering?" Her curiosity peaked again.
"Me."
She was silent for a moment. She studied his face, but he didn't flinch. He kept up the determination, visible in his green eyes.
"Well, well, well," she sounded pleased. "You'd sacrifice your life for someone else's. Like father, like son."
It stung. The demon knew his weakness. She was in the business of human dilemma after all. And apparently she was damn good at her job.
He took a step back, looking at her warily. His silence was her triumph.
"You did know about your dad's deal, right? His life for yours?" She taunted him, pretending to pout and feign pity. "Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but…boy, I wish I had."
A full smile appeared on her face.
He had to bite down on his tongue so hard, he was sure it'd be bloody by the end of the night. His throat was closing in on him. It was hard to take even one breath. His lungs wouldn't allow any air in them. He could feel the anger rising up inside of him. He had to control himself not to tremble as he gripped the door handle of the Impala tightly, white knuckles showing. He wanted to rip her fucking throat out, drain out that high-pitched liar's voice.
"After you," he managed to say through gritted teeth as he politely held open the passenger's door for the demon to get in.
"Such a gentleman." She hadn't noticed his boiling anger and smiled at him.
He watched her closely. One more step, and it'd be adios, bitch!
To his dismay, she looked down and noticed the edge of the white spray-painted symbol underneath his car. "A Devil's Trap? You've got to be kidding me."
Her smile faded in an instant, and her eyes widened with fury. She slammed the door of the Impala shut as he took a few cautious steps backwards.
The demon stopped in its tracks, coming to a halt still a foot away from him. The devilish grin returned.
"Hayley, care to join?" She asked into thin air.
Dean's lungs stopped mid-breath. Of course, she'd come out of the woodworks once his life was threatened.
"Heeeey…evil demon lady."
Hayley came up behind her. The demon let her pass, side-eyeing her as she took her place next to Dean. She smiled awkwardly at him as she positioned herself.
He glowered. This wasn't good.
"You two stupid, stupid…I should rip both of you limb from limb," she snarled at them. "You two didn't really think you could pull this off, did you? Hiding your supercharged girlfriend in the bushes and a makeshift demon trap under your car? Dean, Dean, Dean…I thought you were smarter. Guess you'll have to pay for that now." She almost sounded like a authoritarian mother, scolding them like children.
"Yeah? Well…take your best shot," Dean said. But his voice wasn't carrying confidence or defiance. It sounded pleading. Desperate. He could feel Hayley's concerned eyes directed at him. His death wish was so obvious even the demon could sense it.
"No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery." A smirk appeared back on her face. Torture, after all, was her second profession.
"Yeah? Why not?" His back had reached the wooden railing of the structure behind him, the demon only a few inches away in front of him.
"Because your misery's the whole point. It's too much fun to watch." She cornered him with a playful smile. "Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt."
She pouted now, simulating sympathy for his despair. "It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, 'I can't do this anymore.' You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved him so much. And it's all your fault."
The last words rolled off her tongue with delight. "Besides, what else did you bring your girlfriend for?"
With a wave of the demon's hand, Hayley went flying against the wooden structure next to him. The demon pinned her there. It felt like two invisible hands grabbed around her throat, clenching tightly, pressing the air out of her lungs.
"Hey! Let her go! She stays out of this!" His voice was heated as he charged at the demon.
The demon dropped Hayley to the ground again with a shameless smile. She crashed harshly to the ground, gripping her throat where the force used to be. Her chest heaved heavily.
"You blew it, Dean! I could have given you what you need." The demon stood face to face with him.
"What do I need?" Dean asked, a little uncomfortable at the demon's closeness.
"Your father. I could have brought him back. Your loss. See ya, Dean."
She turned around casually and started to stride away as if this was just another deal. "I wish you a nice long life." She emphasized it on purpose.
After all, what was his long life worth?
Nothing.
"Hold on."
"Dean!" Hayley got back on her feet. The shock over his decision was written on her face.
The demon stopped in her tracks and turned around with a winning smirk. "You're lucky I've got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces."
She circled him as he retreated underneath the wooded structure. He couldn't bare to look at Hayley or the demon. He was too ashamed to admit it, even though it was clear as day.
"I just can't leave you like this. Besides. You didn't call me here to bargain for Evan. Hayley did. But you? No, not really."
"Can you bring him back? My dad?"
"Dean! You can't be serious!" She sounded panicked.
What if he did make a deal? He wouldn't be that stupid. Would he?
She looked in his green eyes when he finally met her disbelieving stare. The demon was right. He did have the puppy dog eyes gaze down to a T. They seemed darker than usual. He was lost, hurt. It was abundantly obvious.
"Of course I can," the demon replied to his question. "Just as he was. Your dad would live a long and natural life, like he was meant to. That's a promise."
He looked at Hayley again. "I'm sorry, Hayles. I have to."
"What?! No!"
"What about me?" He turned to the demon.
"Fine! You wanna do this? Do it! But I can't watch this!" She stomped away to the Impala exasperated.
Dean ignored her, his focus fully staying on the demon. The demon smiled satisfied at their bickering.
"I could give you ten years. Ten long good years with him. That's a lifetime. The family can be together again. John, Dean, Sammy. The Winchester boys all reunited."
She forwarded towards him, her face almost touching his as they stood underneath their little wooden tower. "Look. Your dad's supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So we'll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order. And you get ten extra years on top. That's a bonus. Hell, how about I throw in Hayley for you too? Unless, you like them angry," she said with a wink, inching even closer.
He smiled amused. He turned his back on her, pacing, pretending to think. "You think you could," he started as he turned his attention back to her.
"…throw in a set of steak knives?" He grinned at her as he took his last step outside of the wooden structure.
"You know, this smart-ass self-defense mechanism of yours…" She charged forward, but abruptly stopped and looked up. Her face froze, the fury returning to her face as she noticed a painted Devil's Trap above her brunette locks.
"Dean," she snarled his name as a warning, accompanied by a deathly glare.
"Gotcha, bitch," it sounded from behind.
The demon turned around to see Hayley beaming victoriously at her.
"Now you're really trapped. That's gotta hurt," Dean told her. A smile played across his face as well. He positioned himself proudly next to Hayley.
"Ouch, yeah," Hayley said mockingly, pursing her lips.
"Let me out. Now," the demon hissed.
"Sure. We just gotta make a little deal here first. You call off your Hellhounds and let Evan go. Then we'll let you go," Dean proposed.
"I'll like that deal," Hayley agreed.
The two shared a grin. They had the upper hand, and we're having their fun with it.
"I can't break a binding contract." The demon seemed annoyed with their little game.
"Hmm. And by 'can't' you mean 'don't want to'?" Dean taunted her.
The demon looked pensive. At least, he got her thinking. Ultimately, Hayley's plan seemed to work out.
"Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Going, going…," Dean announced like an auctioneer.
"Let's talk about this," the demon attempted her plea deal.
"Okay, gone." He smirked at Hayley, who pulled out a rosary from her jacket.
"Know what this is?" She asked the demon, dangling the rosary in front of her with a smirk.
"What are you doing?" She asked almost in a panic. The demon was getting more and more nervous.
"Oh, you're just gonna go on a little trip. Way down South," Dean said gleefully. Usually he associated a trip South as something positive. This would be a different trip, though.
"Forget Evan. Think of your dad." The demon eyed him persuasively. One last endeavor to trick him, to target his guilt and misery.
Hayley looked at Dean. He hadn't given her the sign to start the exorcism yet. Suddenly, he seemed unsure of himself and their plan. He stared at his feet, averting her gaze.
"Nice try, bitch," she replied instead. Her eyes focused on the demon. If Dean quailed in their plan, she had to stick to it. They were a team.
"Hayley, you sure you wanna do this?" The demon's eyes wandered to her now, smiling mischievously. "I can bring your mom back too. Maybe get your dad out of prison. Three for two, would do you say, kids?" The demon darted its eyes seductively at them, opening her arms, weighing the options.
Hayley pretended to consider the offer. Dean stared at her, his eyes grew more apprehensive with every passing second. He wouldn't blame her if she took the deal. He had judged people like Evan, but truth was he wasn't so sure now if he wouldn't do the same. He knew it was wrong. But he'd lie if he'd say he hadn't considered it. Even if it was just for a brief moment.
They shared a solicitous look until the corners of her lips moved up to a soft smile. Hayley winked at him lightly, and turned back to the trapped demon beforehand.
"Nope. Still good," she replied smugly.
They could see the fury rise up inside the demon, huffing and puffing in her little trap.
"Don't you wanna know your mother's killer? I could tell you," the demon tried one last time.
Both of them froze. Neither of them had considered the possibility of a demon knowing that. His eyes wandered to her, watching her carefully. She looked pensive in her poker face.
"I'm smart. I'll figure it out," Hayley quipped. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus…," she started the exorcism.
The demon began to convulse, its vessel starting to tremble.
"Think about what you're doing. With your recent track record, it would help to have some friends downstairs," the demon threatened her.
Dean shot Hayley an anxious look. He was afraid the demon had pushed her over the edge with that remark.
But Hayley didn't flinch, sustaining her indifference. She snorted in response instead, a laugh rolling over her lips.
"Yeah, honey, I don't think that's gonna tip the scale too much…and I have a few more years to make up for it, soooo…," she shrugged casually. "I know who I am. And it's gonna take a lot more before I go down."
She said it so confidently, so swiftly, that even Dean believed her. He never doubted she'd go to Hell in the first place. It was a ridiculous thought to begin with.
"Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii," Dean continued the exorcism.
A soft smile appeared on Hayley's face as she watched him. She knew this had been harder on him than he had expected on their drive here. But she never doubted he wouldn't make the right decision.
They continued the exorcism, watching as the demon twitched and contorted in front of them. It grunted and screamed, trying to ward itself from the Latin words.
"Wait!" The demon suddenly exclaimed, looking frantically at the two of them.
Dean stopped the exorcism, glancing happily at Hayley. He wasn't sure if the thing would still come around and make a deal with him, but it seemed to have changed its mind finally.
"Fine. I'll make a deal. Evan's life for my freedom," the demon said. The words seemed too casual, too good to be true.
"Great. Where do I sign, sweetheart?" Dean asked, readily taking a step forward.
A smirk appeared on the demon's face – a bad sign.
"Not you." The demon looked from Dean to Hayley. "Her."
"No." His pronunciation was firm, his tone grave. "Me or you're going downstairs, bitch. Your choice," Dean warned her threateningly.
"I don't think it is." The demon glanced with a victorious smirk towards Hayley.
"No, Hayles! You are not doing this. You hear me?" He stormed at her before she could even part her lips and utter a response.
His fury out of concern reminded her of Joe. She had heard the exact same words when the sisters had asked their father for permission to travel to New York for a Kanye concert when they were seventeen. But Joe had been unsuccessful in telling them what to do even back then, and so would Dean now. Not that the situation was even remotely comparable. She knew how fucked up it was to make a deal with a demon. But if it would save a life?
She'd cross that line.
"Why me?" She asked, ignoring Dean's protesting next to her, directing her question at the demon.
"Insurance. You can't trust a Winchester these days. They always find a way to cross you. I doubt Dean would dare breaking this deal if I'd peel off his girlfriend's skin for it," the demon sneered, leering at him.
"Fuck you," Dean snarled. His nostrils were flaring, his hands balled into fists until his knuckles turned wild. He wouldn't play a demon's stupid game. "Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te…"
"Dean, stop!" Hayley's hand reached out, lowering the journal in his hands.
"I'll do it." Her eyes shot to the demon.
"Hayley, no," he snapped at her angrily.
"Good." The demon smiled triumphantly. They had stopped paying attention to him.
She didn't listen to Dean, and took a few steps closer to the demon until she had reached the beginning of the Devil's Trap symbol above her. The demon grabbed her by her jacket, jerking her closer to its body. Dean was ready to jump in and attack it, when the demon suddenly pulled Hayley in for a kiss.
Taken by surprise, her body stiffened. She wasn't sure if she was getting mauled or made out with, but it was terribly uncomfortable to say the least. The kiss lasted longer than she wanted to, or maybe time just started to pass slower. She eventually managed to wrangle herself out of the demon's embrace, immediately wrinkling her forehead in disgust.
"What the hell was that for?" Dean's voice was angry.
His head was slightly tilted to the right, his eyes narrow. He blinked twice. Confusion was more visibly prominent across his face than any other emotion.
She had briefly forgotten he was still here. She'd hoped he'd magically disappeared, not bearing witness to her make out session with a demon. She would never hear the end of this. He would never let this go of unspoken.
"Jealous?" The demon mocked him with a smirk. He glowered at her. "It's called sealing the deal."
"Maybe a little warning would be neat next time. Kinda haven't revived my girl on girl phase since college," Hayley muttered, protesting the hasty violation.
Dean's eyes widened at her words, a smirk appearing across his face. He wouldn't let this story go by either. At least, he'd be less angry with her now.
"I know," the demon whispered to her with a wink. "Evan Hudson is free. He and his wife will live long lives. You got what you wanted. Now let me go." It spoke louder again, waiting expectantly to be released.
He glanced at the Devil's Trap above him. He could still send the bitch back to Hell. He looked down at his father's journal in his hands.
"You're gonna double-cross me? Funny how I'm the trustworthy one."
Dean just shrugged in response. This bitch had taunted him enough for one night.
"You know, you renege? Send me to Hell? Sooner or later I'm gonna climb out, and skinning Evan Hudson will be the first thing that I do. Followed by Hayley. I'll even make you watch." The smile that played across her face was devilish. It reeked of pure evil. The words were uttered calmly, almost friendly even. Their meaning cruel and gruesome nonetheless.
Dean's skin crawled underneath the demon's words, but he wouldn't give that thing the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead he smiled evenly, closing the journal in his hands. He hopped up the railing until he reached the ceiling of the little hut, and ripped out a wooden board, breaking the seal.
The demon stepped out of its trap with a smile. "I gotta tell you. You would have never pulled that stunt if you knew," she baited as she carelessly strolled past him.
"Knew what?"
"Dean, c'mon. Let's go." Hayley gently nudged his arm. However, she could see the demon had him already hooked.
Satisfied, the demon turned around. "Where your dad is." A shimmer flicked across its eyes. The thing was enjoying its torturous effects on Dean. "You should have made that deal. See, people talk about Hell, but it's just a word. It doesn't even come close to describing the real thing."
"Shut your fucking mouth, bitch."
Its words rung loudly in his ears. One of his worst nightmares had been confirmed. His father had made a deal for the sake of his life. And now he was direly paying the price.
"If you could see your poor daddy? Hear the sounds he makes 'cause he can't even scream?" It further provoked him, grinding its teeth together in anger.
"How about I send you back there?" He charged at it, but he had to stop short.
The woman's head tilted backwards, black smoke erupting from her mouth. A storm cloud drained out of its host body. The woman crumpled to the ground, weakened from the possession.
The woman was still alive, awake. She looked up at the two strangers in front of her. The confusion written all over her face as she watched Hayley and Dean gather their breaths. Their adrenaline had kicked into high gear and came now crashing down.
"What…how did I get here?"
She brought the poor girl back home. She had been possessed close by. Hayley invented a semi-believable story of how the girl had ended up in the middle of nowhere without a recollection of her memories.
Sam had called Dean and informed him about Evan Hudson's safety and gratefulness. He packed up the Impala, closing the trunk, as Hayley appeared behind him. He could always tell by the breeze that preceded her return.
She didn't know what he would say – or what he would yell. She knew he would call her reckless and stupid. But it had been a long day. Her eyes were tired, her stomach growled, and her heart needed a break too. She wanted to go home, to her bed, and to her favorite coffee mug. And her favorite people.
Moreover, she didn't want to fight.
To her surprise, Dean didn't seem to either.
A smirk appeared on his face as he sheepishly looked up at her, leaning against the trunk. "So…college, huh?"
He did it so smoothly, so eloquently, she couldn't even feign her nuisance with him. She laughed.
"Shut the fuck up."
They grinned at each other.
His momentary happiness quickly subsided, however. The constant worry in his eyes returned. "Did you mean what you said earlier? To the demon?"
She knew immediately what he meant. He wanted to know if she was okay again. Functioning again. Breathing, eating, sleeping again. Like a normal human that hadn't just offed someone three days ago.
She nodded confidently. "Yeah."
"Good, good." He was relieved at her reply. A small smile returned. "'Cause you know, I already wreck my brain over my dad, and worry about Sam…I can't have my best friend running around out there with a loose head and a death wish. You understand me?"
His tone had been so serious, he was genuinely baffled by her responding grin. Then it dawned on him rather quickly. He pressed his eyes shut.
"I'm your best friend?" Her voice was quiet, but it contained a bomb of excitement underneath it.
He scowled at her. "That's what you took from it?!"
"Well, c'mon. I mean, I get the other points. But this…this is like saying, 'Hey, please ignore the giant neon sign displaying boobs on it.'"
He tilted his head slightly to the side, narrowing his eyes before he rolled them back with a deep groan.
"You know you shouldn't have risked your life like that. You really think saving one makes good for the other?"
"No, I know. It's more complex than that. But it's a start. And you would've done it, too. Hell, the only reason you're mad at me is because it wasn't you," argued Hayley.
He pursed his lips in defeat.
"Kinda funny, don't you think?" She glanced at him, smiling.
"What?"
"You worrying about me, me worrying about you…"
"What do you mean?"
She looked at him almost reproachfully. Really, Dean?
"I saw you. Back with the demon. You were considering it, weren't you? Taking that deal to get your dad out?"
His eyes darted from the ground up to her. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, waiting for an answer.
"What would you have done?" His question was as serious as her answer.
"You already know. You heard me back there."
"You don't want your parents back? Or know who killed her?"
"Not like this, no." Her eyes were soft. She sympathized with him, she really did. But she wouldn't make a deal that would break her parents' hearts. "For what it's worth…I'm glad you're the one who's here today. It's probably the most fatherly thing John has ever done, too."
There was silence between them for a moment. She knew it wasn't much of a comfort. But she hated that he thought his presence was misplaced. He belonged here. To the living. No one could convince her otherwise. She would scream it from the top of her lungs if she had to. He had to hear it.
"Soooo…what's next?" She asked carefully.
"Probably head back, grab Sam. Go get some food."
"Oh, yeah great. But I meant for our path to BFF-hood? I was thinking friendship bracelets, a blood bond…maybe matching tattoos?" She couldn't await his entire reaction before she burst into laughter.
While first thrown off by her teasing, he soon joined her wholeheartedly.
"Shut up and get in the damn car, Speedy."