Don't Feed After Midnight
Chapter 24: The more you READ, the more you'll KNOW. The more you LEARN, the more places you'll GO
"You were Scottish." Dean stood arms crossed and eyed Crowley.
"And your meddling is why Abbadon is back. Do you know what you let out? Do you?" The demon accused in response.
"We didn't let her out," Dean bristled. Then took a breath and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, admitting to himself that, yeah okay, they may not exactly be to blame for Abbadon being in 2013; but he and Sammy had kinda let the demon bitch escape, again.
That was Crowley's fault, he argued to himself, while they continued eyeballing each other; if the asshat hadn't called at the exact moment they were sewing Abbadon back together, and if they hadn't had to step outside to avoid her eves dropping. Then, the bitch wouldn't have managed to pry the devils trap bullet outta her noggin somehow.
Crowley read the discomfort as him admitting guilt. He sneered.
"Funny, here we are in a Men of Letters facility. And last Hell heard of her, back in '58. Azazel sent Abbadon on a mission. Something to do with the Men of Letters, if Lilith's spies were to be believed. I'm inclined.
Lilith, she had a unique way of dealing with those who dared misinform her." The muscles along the demon Kings jaw bunched and jumped before he shook his head.
"Thing is, Darling, all hell knows Abbadon vanished off the radar same day as the Men of Letters here, in the land of the free and the home of the brave, appeared to snuff it. Some kind of god awful conflagration.
Doesn't take a genius to join the dots, just someone smarter than a Winchester."
"Well, hate to tell ya, you ain't smarter. Joined 'em wrong, asshole. Demonic bitch time traveled. Back to the futured herself, while chasing after a Man of letters."
A look of surprise flashed briefly over Crowley's face. "So it wasn't blather, she actually time travelled! And yet, I still can't help thinking you two are the cause. You'd have me believe that Abbadon just randomly turned back up and answered my call, at the same time you just happen to stumble over, and started squatting in a Man of Letters facility."
"We're not squatting, you prick. Me an' Sammy we're Legacies, got every right to be here."
"Pull the other one, it's got bells on." The demon jerked his wrists making the chains binding him to the chair clatter harshly. "You're just thugs, hunters born and raised."
"Turns out we're both." Dean flared. Then it occurred to him, that he was letting Crowley goad him into saying too much. He stopped himself.
"I'm not here to talk about my family," he gritted out.
Crowley licked his lips, head tilted. "You're here to ask banal questions, about my not so illustrious beginnings. I remember."
"Fairies!
'parently Scots are Garlic an' a bunch of fairy lore is garlic. Join those dots."
"Gaelic," Crowley corrected haughtily, "garlic is a plant, of the genus, Allium, from the onion family."
"Whatever! Point is, you knew that scribble of Sam's was fairy. 'cause you're gay-lick and so's the lion share of the lore on these bastards. You know more than you're letting on."
"I do. Know more, but why should I tell you."
"You said, you wanted the Gremlin dead."
"Maybe, I've changed my mind." Crowley tipped his head to one side again, fingers drumming on the arm of the chair as if weighing his options. "Nah. Tell you what, mate. You show me yours and I'll show you mine."
"You show me that and I'll chop it off and ram it down your perverted throat!"
"Really, Dean? I'm trying to conduct a professional negotiation here, and here you are, going on about your sexual fantasies?" Crowley raised a brow and smirked. "Missing your time under Alistair are we?
Not that I'd mind, might be interesting. Difficult to find a playmate who's got your skills with a blade.
But, what, oh what, would little brother say if he saw…All the awful things you've done, he might realise how much you enjoyed it downstairs with Alistair…"
Dean felt his mouth go dry and his gut clench sickly. How much did Crowley know about that?! The things Alistair had made him do…
"What I meant, Dean," Crowley continued unabated, "was that we both want information. You want to know what I know, about the fae; and I want to know what you know, about that scheming harlot, Abbadon."
…ooo0ooo…
"Kevin! Hey, hey Kevin, hold up! What's going on?" Sam called after the prophet's retreating back. But Kevin didn't stop.
When Sam caught up to him, the boy was standing in the middle of one of the devils traps he'd drawn on the floor, clutching an iPad and scrolling frantically.
"Kevin, everything alright?" Sam asked low and careful.
Kevin grunted, eyes still on whatever he was doing on the iPad.
"Sam, how much do you remember about that fairy case."
"Uh, this guy Boltar the furious, his real name was Gerry. He was involved in this Moondoor LARP, that's live action role pl—"
"No! Not that case. The first one you worked, in Elwood. With the watch maker."
"I Ah…" Sam floundered.
"You don't remember, do you?" Kevin glanced up at him over the tablet.
"Well, it's kind of fuzzy, Uh I …"
"You were souless." Kevin said, deadpan like he was talking about having a dose of the flu.
Sam winced. His throat felt tight, like he had an icy cold hand clamped around his windpipe. "Yeah." He muttered through dead lips.
"Do you remember how you banished the Leprechaun?"
"I Uhh…."
"There was a book, Brennan used it to summon the leprechaun, I thought you guys didn't mention it because it got destroyed. Like the spell book that the mage, Boltar, was it, used to bind the fairy, in the case you're talking about.
But that wasn't it. You just don't remember. Do you? And Dean probably thinks, because you haven't bought it up, that the book won't work, but here, see!" Kevin held the iPad under his face and jabbed his finger on a paragraph of text.
"Sam grinned, a cold flash of teeth, as he watched the leprechaun stoop to count the scatter of salt grains he'd spilled from the rocksalt round."
Kevin read the passage about his past aloud to him from the iPad, while Sam listened numbly.
"'Why didn't I do that earlier,' he asked himself out loud with a contemptuous huff, turning away from the incapacitated leprechaun. It sat cross legged on the floor, counting the salt;
just as Marrion, the woman he had mocked as a glitter glue sniffing whack job, said fairies were compelled to do.
'Talk about a crippling case of OCD,' souless Sam joked to himself and wiped absent mindedly at the dribble of blood coming from his split lip, barely aware of the injury.
He hunched his tall frame down over Brennan's Grandmother's book and flicked back his long hair. Coolly started reading out the last of the banishing spell, from where the dead watchmaker had left off.
As Sam finished the spell, all over the town of Elwood Indiana, a series of bright flashes of light appeared. The invading fairies, large and small, were sucked in to those lights and banished once more; back to their own realm of reality." Kevin finished reading the paragraph.
Sam's head ached dully.
A scatter of murky memories fought for predominance, trying to rise to the fore, against his blood soaked memories from the same time in hell. He pinched at the bridge of his nose and stared dumbly at the prophet, too sick and overwhelmed by the competing memories to think properly.
"Don't you see Sam." Kevin said urgently. "Brennan only summoned the one leprechaun. But the banishing ritual, it worked on all the fairies in Elwood."
Sam stared down at the boy and his iPad, that told a disconcerting half remembered tale of his life as a souless monster.
The only thing that really stuck from that particular case, for his souless self was having sex with the hippy chick. And being annoyed at Dean for being overly emotional about his abduction.
Finally, he took the little device from Kevin's hands and made himself read over the portion of Chuck's book again for himself.
"What happened to Brennan's grandmother's book, Sam!" Kevin prodded, a hopeful look on his face.
"I, ah, I don't know… But Dean would." He offered the prophet a slightly forced smile."With any luck the book will be in the impala, or one of our storage units. You did really great, Kevin. Dunno what we'd do without you."
-/-/-/-/-
Authors rambling waffle:
Now we are getting somewhere. I can't promise updates will be any quicker, since I'm juggling one too many fics for my liking and life is a busy thing, but we're on the down hill run now.
As always kudos and comments increase my feelings of obligation, and makes me sit my butt down and write instead, of listening to CreepyPastas, watching that Russian Cougar Messi on YouTube and scrolling through Pinterest to find new recipes to try out in my new mission, to dispose of the many, many apples our tiny dwarf apple tree has blessed us with this year.