May 8th - May 13th, 2010

As we drove to Bobby's house to drop off our stuff and then go after Pestilence, Sam told us about an idiotic plan he came up with.

"Are you completely insane?" I asked.

"Bobby did it when he was possessed. I can do it too," Sam said.

Dean shook his head. "No. No way."

Sam sighed. "Guys—"

I shook my head. "Sam, this wouldn't be like when Bobby was possessed. It's the friggin' Devil, dude. He's a lot stronger than some random demon."

Sam nodded. "Okay, well, when we get the cage open, how exactly do you guys plan on getting him to jump in? He's not gonna go willingly, but if I say yes and I take control, I can jump in and take him with me."

Dean shook his head. "We will figure something else out. There's no way you're doing that." He parked the car in Bobby's yard, and we got out.

Sam nodded. "I know. Not unless we all agree."

I shrugged. "Which will never happen."

Sam sighed. "But I think we got to look at our options."

"Sam, I love your optimism, but this is Lucifer we're talking about," I said, "A total psychopath. He will get into your head, literally, and mess with you."

"I'm strong enough," Sam said.

I shook my head. "There's no way you can overpower him."

Dean opened the front door, and we walked in. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Nate and Bobby looked confused by our heated conversation.

Sam sighed. "Dean—"

"No, don't Dean me," Dean snapped, "I mean, you— you have had some stupid ideas in the past. But this—" He looked at Bobby. "Did— Did you know about this?"

"What?" Bobby asked.

"About Sam's genius plan to cram the Devil down his throat," Dean said.

Bobby nodded.

"Bobby!" I yelled.

"Thanks for the heads up!" Dean shouted.

"Hey, this ain't about me," Bobby said.

Dean looked back at Sam and shook his head. "You can't do this."

Sam nodded. "That's the consensus."

"All right. Awesome. Then, end of discussion." Dean nodded.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Dean pointed at Sam. "This isn't over." Then he answered the phone, "Hello?" (…) His eyes widened. "Cass?"

"Is he okay?" Sam asked.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"We all thought you were dead. Where the hell are you, man?" Dean asked. (…) "Are you okay?" (…) "You want to elaborate?" (…) "So— So, a hospital?" (…) "Uh, well, I got to tell you, man… you're just in time. We figured out a way to pop Satan's box." (…) "It's a long story but look… we're going after Pestilence now. So, if you want to zap over here—" (…) He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" (…) "What do you mean? You're out of angel mojo?" (…) His eyes widened. "Human? Wow. Sorry." (…) "All right. Well, look, no worries. Uh, Bobby's here. He'll wire you the cash."

"I will?" Bobby asked.

Dean sighed. "Cass… It— It's okay." (…) "Thank you. I appreciate that."


Nate and I walked off while Sam and Dean packed some things up and talked to Bobby.

"So, third horseman, huh?" Nate asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, we're getting closer. Hopefully, all this will be over soon."

Nate sighed. "Hopefully… I don't mean to be a downer or anything, but I feel like this kinda stuff always has a way of one-upping itself."

I shrugged. "Yeah, that's true." I sighed. "I guess we just take it one step at a time."

Nate looked at me seriously. "You sure after all this apocalypse stuff is over, you want to keep doing this?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, how could I stop if I know I can help people?"

Nate nodded sadly. "Yeah… Sometimes I just think about how hard my mom tried to keep us out of it for so long." He shrugged. "I just wonder if this is what she would want for me, ya know?"

I nodded, watching him carefully. "I know."

He shook his head. "Sorry… bringing down the room."

"You're fine." I smiled and shrugged. "I get it, honestly."

He pulled me into a hug. "Just be careful, okay?"

I nodded. "Always."

We joined the others and walked out to the Impala.

"Be careful," Bobby said after we got in.


We pulled up to the Serenity Valley Convalescent Home, an assisted living facility, and parked the Impala.

"So this is Dr. Evil's lair, huh?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "It's kind of more depressing than evil."

"It's like a four-color brochure for dying young. Of course, to Pestilence, it's probably Dollywood in there," Dean said.

Sam nodded. "Great. A whole building full of people. We don't know who's human, who's demon, and who's Pestilence. So what do we do?"

"Hang on," Dean said and peered through his binoculars. "Come on." He got out, and we followed him into the building.

Eventually, after walking through several hallways, we stopped in front of a door marked Security.

Dean knocked on the door and opened it enough so he could look in. "Hey. Hi. Uh, I'm looking for my Nana. Uh, her name is Eunice Kennedy."

"Go around front and see the nurse," the security guard said.

Dean stepped into the room and closed the door enough, so no one could see in. "Uh, would you mind helping me out, sir? Uh, she's about, uh— about that small…" He held his hand out, gesturing a height. "And gray hair… wears diapers." Then he knocked on the door, so Sam and I would walk in.

When we did, Dean was dragging a now unconscious guard to the corner of the room.

"Eunice Kennedy?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded proudly. "That's the beauty about improv, Sammy. You never know what's gonna come out of your mouth."

We pulled up some chairs and sat in front of security monitors for a while.

Sam shook his head. "So, what are…" He looked over, and we both realized Dean was drifting off to sleep, so he tapped his shoulder. "Hey. What are we even looking for?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, he's Pestilence, so he probably looks sick."

Sam sighed. "Everybody looks sick."

Dean put his head back and groaned in frustration.


After a while, Dean started pacing around, and I ended up falling asleep.

"Hey," Sam said, causing me to wake up.

I sat up and realized he was pointing to one of the monitors. A man was walking down the hallway, and the screen was glitching out.

Dean stepped forward and peered at the screen. "Oh, now we're talking."


As we sneaked through the halls, I started to feel light-headed and dizzy. Then we all started coughing. I was coughing so hard, my throat was on fire and was getting progressively worse to the point that I started coughing up blood.

Even though Sam and Dean were experiencing the same thing, I could tell they were getting worried.

We rounded a corner and found a doctor and nurse lying next to each other, covered in pea soup colored vomit and blood.

"Ugh…" Sam coughed. "Must be getting close."

"You think?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Suddenly, I started having an uncontrollable coughing fit and leaned against the wall for support. Sam grabbed me to try and support me, but I continued coughing and dropped to the floor. Then Dean started to sink to the ground.

"Dean?" Sam asked and tried to help him up too.

Dean lost balance and dropped to the floor as well.

"Get up," Sam said and stood up.

He walked to the door we had watched Pestilence walk into on the screens, but it opened before he got to it.

A nurse smiled at us, and then her eyes turned black. "The doctor will see you now."

Then she stepped back and opened the door more, revealing Pestilence, sitting on a hospital bed next to a dead woman.

"Sam. Dean. Maddison." Pestilence smiled as Sam fell to the ground with Dean and me. "Come right in."

Pestilence and the demonic nurse grabbed our arms and dragged us into the room.

"Hmm. You kids don't look well. It might be the, uh, Scarlet fever. Or, uh, the meningitis. Oh!" Pestilence shouted. "Or the syphilis. That's no fun. However, you feel right now? It's gonna get so very, very much worse. Questions?" he asked and laughed. "Disease gets a bad rap, don't you think? For being filthy. Chaotic. Uh, but, really, th— that just describes people who get sick. Disease itself… very… pure… single-minded. Bacteria have one purpose… divide and conquer."

He walked forward and stepped on Dean's hand as he tried to reach for the demon blade. "That's why, in the end… it always wins. So, you've got to wonder why God pours all his love into something so messy… and weak. It's ridiculous." He chuckled. "All I can do is show him he's wrong, one epidemic at a time." He looked down at us. "Now… on a scale of one to ten, how's your pain?"

The door whipped open, and Cass walked in.

"Cass?" Dean asked, barely able to talk.

"How'd you get here?" Pestilence asked, annoyed.

"I took a bus. Don't worry, I—" Cass fell to his knees and started coughing.

"Well, look at that." Pestilence smiled. "An occupied vessel, but powerless. Oh, that's fascinating. There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"

Cass grabbed the knife and quickly cut Pestilence's ring finger and pinky off, making them and the ring fall to the floor. "Maybe just a speck."

Pestilence shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It's too late." Then he disappeared.


Back at Bobby's house, we explained everything that had happened to him and Nate.

"Well, it's nice to actually score a home run for once, ain't it?" Bobby asked.

Sam sighed and shrugged.

Bobby furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Last thing Pestilence said… 'it's too late,'" Sam said.

"He get specific?" Bobby asked.

Sam shook his head. "No."

"We're just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere. So please tell us you have actual good news," Dean said.

Bobby shook his head. "Chicago's about to be wiped off the map. Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die."

Dean furrowed his brow. "Huh."

Cass shook his head. "I don't understand your definition of good news."

Bobby shrugged. "Well… Death, the horseman… he's gonna be there. And if we can stop him before he kick-starts this storm, get his ring back—"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, you make it sound so easy."

"Hell, I'm just trying to put a spin on it," Bobby said.

"Well…" Sam shook his head. "Bobby, how— how'd you put all this together, anyways?"

"I had… you know…" Bobby hesitated. "Help."

"Don't be so modest. I barely helped at all." Crowley appeared in the room and then nodded at us. "Hello. Pleasure, etcetera." He looked at Bobby. "Go ahead. Tell them. There's no shame in it."

"Bobby?" I asked.

"Tell us what?" Sam asked.

Bobby sighed. "World's gonna end. Seems stupid to get all precious over one little… soul."

"You sold your soul?" Nate asked.

Crowley shrugged. "Oh, more like pawned it. I fully intend to give it back."

"Well, then give it back!" Dean yelled.

Crowley nodded. "I will."

"Now!" Dean shouted.

"Did you kiss him?" Sam asked.

I nodded and smirked. "Always asking the important questions."

Sam shrugged.

"Sam!" Dean shouted.

"Just wondering," Sam said sheepishly.

"No, I didn't kiss him!" Bobby shouted.

Crowley pulled out a phone and showed us a selfie of him and Bobby kissing.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Why'd you take a picture?"

Crowley shrugged. "Why'd you have to use tongue?"

We all looked at Bobby wide-eyed, and he blushed.

Dean shook his head. "All right. Ya know what? I'm sick of this. Give him his soul back now."

Crowley shook his head. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"Can't or won't?" Dean asked.

"I won't, all right?" Crowley asked. "It's insurance."

Dean shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"You kill demons." Crowley nodded to Sam. "Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it. But you won't kill me… as long as I have that soul in the deposit box."

"You son of a bitch." Bobby growled.

"I'll return it. After all this is over, and I can walk safely away. Do we all understand each other?" Crowley asked.


Dean and I walked out to the Impala and organized the trunk to pass the time. Sam joined us only a couple minutes later, sighed, and then leaned up against the car.

"Let me guess. We're about to have a talk," Dean said.

Sam chuckled. "Look, um…" He cleared his throat. "For the record… I agree with you. About me. You think I'm too weak to take on Lucifer. Well, so do I." He chuckled. "Believe me, I know exactly how screwed up I am. You guys, Bobby, Cass… I'm the least of any of you."

Dean shook his head and sighed. "Oh, Sam—"

Sam shook his head. "No, it's true. It is. But… I'm also all we got. If there was another way… But I don't think there is. There's just me. So I don't know what else to do. Except just try to— to do what's got to be done."

"And… scene." Crowley walked up behind us.

I rolled my eyes. "Why do you always have to be everywhere? All the time?"

"Because. There's something you need to see." Crowley handed Sam a newspaper.

"'Niveus Pharmaceuticals is rushing delivery of its new swine flu vaccine to stem the tide of the unprecedented outbreak,'" Sam read. "Uh, shipments leave Wednesday."

"Niveus Pharmaceuticals. Get it?" Crowley asked.

None of us answered.

Crowley shook his head and sighed. "You three are lucky you have your looks. Your demon lover, Brady? VP of distribution, Niveus." He nodded when we realized what he was saying. "Ah, yes, that the sound of the abacus clacking? We all caught up?"

I nodded. "Pestilence—"

"Was spreading swine flu," Sam said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah, but not just for giggles. That was step one. Step two is the vaccine. And you think—"

Crowley shook his head. "I know. I'll stake my reputation… that vaccine is chock-full of grade-A, farm-fresh Croatoan virus."

Sam nodded. "Simultaneous, countrywide distribution. It's quite a plan."

"They don't get to be horsemen for nothing. So, you better stock up on…" Crowley shrugged. "Well, everything. This time next Thursday, we'll all be living in Zombieland."


When night fell, we continued packing up the car and Bobby's van. The plan was to have Nate, Cass, and Sam stop the virus, while Crowley, Dean, and I went to take out Death.

Cass sighed heavily and leaned up against the van.

"What's your problem?" Bobby asked Cass.

"This is what they mean by the eleventh hour, right?" Cass asked.

Bobby nodded. "Pretty much."

Cass shrugged. "Well, it's the eleventh hour, and I am useless. All I have is this." He waved a shotgun. "What am I even supposed to do with it?"

"Pretty simple… you point and shoot," Nate said.

Cass sighed. "What I used to be—"

Bobby furrowed his brow. "Are you really gonna bitch… to me? Quit pining for the varsity years… and load the damn truck."

Dean took a deep breath. "All right, well… good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Good luck, killing Death."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

Sam nodded and chuckled. "Remember when we used to just… hunt wendigos?"

I nodded. "Yeah, like four years ago?"

Sam sighed. "How simple things were?

Dean shook his head. "Not really."

"Well, um…" Sam pulled the demon blade out and held it out to Dean. "You might need this."

"Keep it." Crowley handed Dean a small scythe. "They're covered. Death's own. Kills, golly demons, and angels and reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself."

"How did you get that?" Cass asked.

"Hello…" Crowley said, "King of the crossroads. So, shall we?" he asked and then looked at Bobby. "Bobby, you just gonna sit there?"

Bobby scowled at him. "No, I'm gonna Riverdance."

Crowley shrugged, "I suppose if you want to impress the ladies." He shook his head. "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted that crossroads deal. Fact… you get more if you phrase it properly. So, I took the liberty of adding a teeny, little sub-A clause on your behalf." He smiled. "What can I say? I'm an altruist. Just gonna sit there?"

Bobby furrowed his brow, looked down at his legs, and then slowly stood up. "Son of a bitch."

We all watched in amazement.

Crowley nodded. "Yes, I know. Completely worth your soul. I'm a hell of a guy."

"Thanks," Bobby said, still in shock.

"This is getting maudlin. Can we go?" Crowley asked and then walked away.

Everyone walked to their respective vehicles, and then I turned to Nate. "Just… stay alive, all right?"

Nate laughed. "You're going to face Death, literally. And you're worried about me?"

I shrugged and smirked.

Nate nodded. "You stay alive too."


Dean, Crowley, and I stepped out of the Impala onto the cold, blustery streets of Chicago. Looking up at the sky, you could tell that a massive storm was rolling in.

"Hey, let's stop for pizza," Crowley said.

Dean snapped him a look. "Are you kidding?"

Crowley shrugged. "Just heard it was good. That's all." He nodded up to a warehouse we were approaching. "Up ahead. Big, ugly building. Ground zero. Horseman's stable, if you will. He's in there."

"You're sure?" I asked.

Crowley looked down at me. "Have you met me? I'm sure." He shrugged. "Also, the block is squirming with reapers."

Of course, the block looked entirely empty except for Dean and me.

"I'll be right back." He disappeared and then reappeared behind us. "Boy is my face red. Death's not in there."

Dean shook his head. "You want to cut the cute and get to the part where you tell us where he is?"

Crowley shrugged. "Sorry. I don't know."

I furrowed my brow. "How do you not know all of a sudden?"

He shrugged and then turned and started walking back toward the Impala.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute." Dean ran up and grab his arm to stop him from walking. "You don't know?"

Crowley shook his head. "Signs pointed. I— I'm just as shocked as you." He continued walking.

"Bobby sold his soul for this!" Dean shouted.

Crowley stopped and turned to us. "Relax. All deals are soul back or store credit. We'll catch Death in the next doomed city."

"Millions, Crowley. Millions of people are about to die any minute," Dean said.

Crowley nodded. "True. So, I strongly suggest we get out of here." Then he continued walking to the Impala.

Dean and I exchanged a look, and then thunder cracked.


We drove through the city for a few minutes, and then Dean parked the car.

"So, what?" Dean asked, "Call in a bomb threat? 1,000 bomb threats? I mean, how the hell are we supposed to get three million people out of Chicago in the next ten minutes?"

Crowley disappeared.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on!"

I looked up and down the street until I spotted Crowley standing in front of a pizza shop. "Dean, look." I pointed.

Crowley mouthed something to us.

Dean shook his head. "What?"

Crowley repeated whatever he had said.

I shook my head. "Still got nothing."

"We can't hear you!" Dean shouted.

Crowley appeared back in the Impala. "I said I found him. Death…" He pointed to the pizza shop. "He's in there."

Dean and I stepped out of the Impala and looked at the pizza shop.

"You coming or—" Dean turned to the Impala.

I peered inside. "He's gone."

Dean rolled his eyes. "All right, come on." He ushered me across the street, and we stared at the pizza shop for a second.

"You ready to face Death? Literally?" I asked.

Dean shook his head. "Not really."

I shrugged. "Me, either." I took a deep breath. "But let's do it anyway."

Dean sighed and opened the door, and we walked in. We stepped down a few stairs and saw only one person sitting in the restaurant eating.

Dean pulled the scythe out of his jacket, and we stepped closer, but he dropped it, and it clattered to the ground. He grabbed his hand and shook it as if something had hurt it, and then the scythe disappeared and reappeared on the man's table.

"Thanks for returning that," Death said without turning to us. "Join me, Dean, Maddison. The pizza's delicious."

We exchanged looks and slowly approached his table.

When we finally rounded his table, I could see that he was a slender man with black shoulder-length slicked-back hair. He was eating a deep-dish pizza with a knife and fork. Something about him was strangely elegant.

"Sit down," Death instructed, and we did as he asked. "Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"I got to say…" Dean said, "I have mixed feelings about that. So— So is this the part where— where you kill us?"

Death looked up at us and paused for a moment. "You have an inflated sense of your importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well…" He took a sip of his soda. "Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old. Very old. So, I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you."

Thunder erupted outside, and he served us each a slice of pizza.

"Eat," he said.

Dean and I looked at each other, picked up our forks and knives, and cut into the pizza. We each took a bite, eating it carefully and properly like Death had been eating, rather than how we would typically eat a pizza.

Death raised an eyebrow as he watched us. "Good, isn't it?"

"Well, I got to ask," Dean said, still chewing his bite. "How old are you?"

"As old as God." Death sliced a few more bites of his pizza. "Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless… at the end, I'll reap him, too." He put a bite into his mouth.

I raised my eyebrows. "God?"

Death looked up at me. "Oh, yes. God will die, too, Maddison."

My eyes widened. I was just kind of in awe of how cool he was. I mean, he was very intimidating, but something about his presence was also relaxing.

How many people could say that they ate deep dish in a Chicago pizzeria with Death? Honestly, this was probably one of the coolest experiences of my entire life.

Dean shook his head. "Well, this is way above our pay grade."

"Just a bit," Death said with a straight face.

"So, then why are we still breathing, sitting here with you? Uh… wha— what do you want?" Dean asked.

"The leash around my neck… off," Death said, and the storm outside started becoming more aggressive. "Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."

"And you think… we can unbind you?" Dean asked.

"There's your ridiculous bravado again." Death shook his head. "Of course, you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this." He held his hand out to us and displayed his ring.

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"I'm inclined to give it to you," Death said.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "To give it to us?"

"That's what I said," Death said.

Dean nodded. "But what about—"

"Chicago?" Death asked, and thunder erupted. "I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza." He slipped his ring off and held it out. "There are conditions."

"Okay. Like?" Dean asked.

"You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell," Death said.

Dean nodded. "Of course."

"Whatever it takes," Death stated.

Dean raised his eyebrows. "That's the plan."

"No. No plan. Not yet," Death said.

"Dean, he's talking about Sam," I said after I realized what he was getting at.

Death nodded. "Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What? You think—"

"I know. So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit." Death held out his ring to Dean. "Well, do I have your word?"

Dean hesitated. "Okay, yeah." He nodded. "Yes." Then he held out his hand.

"That had better be yes, Dean. You know you can't cheat death." Death dropped the ring into Dean's hand. "Now, would you like the instruction manual?"


Back at Bobby's house, Dean went off to talk to Bobby, and I found Sam hanging out on the hood of the Impala, drinking a beer.

"How'd it go?" Sam asked as he took a sip of his beer.

"Well…" I sat on the hood next to him. "We got to eat deep dish with Death."

Sam chuckled. "What?"

I nodded. "He wasn't like the other horseman." I shrugged. "He was kind of awesome."

Sam furrowed his brow. "Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah, he handed over his ring and showed us how to use the key."

"Why would he do that?" Sam asked.

I shrugged. "He doesn't want to be bossed around by Lucifer anymore. He wants us to take him out."

Sam raised his eyebrows and nodded.

"Did you know, Death is going to reap God one day?" I asked.

Sam furrowed his brow. "What?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I didn't either." I paused for a second and then sighed. "Sam? Um, you might be right about your plan with Lucifer."

He looked over at me quickly.

I nodded. "I think I'm too scared of the what-ifs to see that it might be our only option."