Writes one chapter, goes back to the depressed goblin hole that is my room to rewatch supernatural, Me: It's like a reward

I'm actually working on an original novel at the moment, so I've found myself stalling writing that with writing this... I'm not complaining. I love all the comments that I still get on this series. Love you all for helping me stay motivated to write.

May 1st, 2008

This was it. They had only one day left before Dean's deal was up and he was going to be dragged into Hell - literal fucking Hell - unless they could come up with some last-ditch effort to save his soul from damnation.

"Did Sam get you up to speed?" Bobby's voice crackled through the speaker of his phone, pressed against his ear by a shoulder as he leafed through his, ahem, borrowed S.H.I.E.L.D. files. He'd managed to find a secluded enough hallway after crawling through an air duct to read through what he had to see if he could use any of it.

"He did," Clint conformed. "I still don't like that he kept in contact with the demon, though. I can't help but feel like it's gonna bite us in the ass."

The older man sighed, the sound garbled slightly between the phone and Clint's hearing aids.

"I don't like it either, boy, but we're running outta time and options here."

"Just- please keep him alive. And you and Sam, too. Please."

"That's the plan, kid."

A small click and the call was disconnected. Clint grit his teeth and sucked in a breath.

"Dammit, Bobby," he muttered to himself, before returning his gaze to the files in his hand, hoping to find some inkling of information that might suggest demonic activity, but had no luck so far. He leafed through the pages and pages of papers, most containing large black stripes of redacted information. He stopped when he saw his own name.

Clint hesitated for a brief moment, not wanting to distract himself from the mission at hand, knowing that the hours until his little brother would die were ticking by all too soon. He grabbed the page, and with it two others stapled together, promising to read it once they'd stopped this whole thing.

Because they would stop it.

Dean was counting on them.

Trickshot liked to think of himself as a smart man. He knew what he had gotten himself into with Hydra - the logo alone was laughably cliche and almost reminded him of the Saturday morning cartoons that he and C-

Well, they were fairly transparent about the arrangement, long story short.

He'd caught their eye somehow, he never was told and he decided it was best not to ask, and had been brought into their ranks to operate from the shadows, and help them to clean up messes and tie up the loose ends. They were, as one would expect, fairly ruthless and unforgiving in how they operated.

Which was why he really, really hoped that they wouldn't mind him using their resources for personal reasons as of late. He cracked his knuckles as he cleared the information on the computer in front of him and stood from his chair.

"Ah, just the man that I wanted to see."

"Hail Hydra, Director." he said to the man as he turned to face him. "I was hoping to speak with you, as well."

"Were you now?" The older man raised an eyebrow. "What a happy coincidence." His smile, although as fake as him, did not seem to have any malicious feeling behind it, and Trickshot felt himself relax slightly, a tension leaving him that he hadn't realized was there in the first place.

"I was hoping to take some time away for a personal mission," he said as the two men walked the empty floor together.

"No need to say more," the other man said, his tone friendly and light. "You've been of great help to us, Mister Barton."

He still didn't know how exactly he'd gotten himself stuck in a plane with Nat headed towards Indiana, with Bobbi of all people following after him.

Well, he knew. He didn't know why he'd gone along with it though.

He'd stuffed the folded pages down the front of his shirt, and had almost pulled himself into the vent when she'd found him.

"Clint?" Her voice was genuinely confused, so he was at least glad to know she hadn't come looking for missing S.H.I.E.L.D files. "Why are you back here?"

He stilled, his legs swaying from the vent above. With a grunt, he pushed the file down the vent - better for it to be 'lost' temporarily than found in his possession.

"Hey, Bobbi," he shot her a smile and made two (two?!) finger guns at her. "I was just, uh, testing air vent security. This one's all clear."

"Right," she said, clearly not buying his paper thin excuse, but not bothered enough to ask. "Okay. That's cool. Can I join you on your monster hunt?"

He blinked at her. She stared at him, waiting.

"If you don't let me come, I will tell Fury about whatever you're hiding in the vents."

"Wait, what?"

"Your monster hunt. You and Phil aren't all that quiet, you know. You'd think you'd be better, since you're actually spies." Bobbi smiled at him, and nodded towards his phone sticking out of his pocket. "Plus I heard your call yesterday, because I thought you were talking to me, and sort of spied on you."

"You're an eavesdropper," he scolded in a teasing tone before returning to the more serious side of their conversation. "I guess you can join the club of who's in the know."

"Who is in the know?" she asked. They made their way into a hanger, where Nat was leaning against a small plane. She looked curiously at Bobbi's appearance, but sent her a brief wave after a nod from Clint.

"Let's see," Clint counted off his fingers as he began his list, "In S.H.I.E.L.D. only Fury, Coulson, Nat, myself, and now you. In the world at large? Could be a couple thousand, at most."

She continued to ask questions the entire time, her excitement lessening visibly as he explained the basic situation regarding Dean's deal.

"My brother made a deal with a demon - yes, it's a thing, and he has one year before they come to collect." He began, knowing the journey would take some time. He leaned back as best he could against the seat in the military-tyle plane. "Most people get ten."

Bobbi looked down at her hands folded in her lap. Phil had engrossed himself into a riveting conversation about some new movie with Natasha in the cockpit, but kept sending glances Clint's way.

"I'm guessing they want his soul? Standard demon stuff?" He nodded and she smiled frowned. "That's awful. What...how are they going to, uh," she trailed off, unsure of how to phrase her question.

"Drag him into Hell?" Clint offered. "Hellhounds, which are unfortunately real just like every other goddamn boogeyman." He paused, "I think the boogeyman itself is real, actually."

Bobbi opened her mouth to respond and gasped as they hit unexpected turbulence.

"Sorry," Natasha called back.

"Why's your brother special? What did he want that was such a big deal the demon gave him less time?" The blonde woman's question brought his attention back to her.

He sighed and ran his fingers along his scalp.

"I don't know why he got less time," he said. "But they really want one we need to deal with has been, as my brother would put it, on shore leave."

"You didn't answer the other question," she pointed out. He smirked half-heartedly.

"Hey now, this is pretty personal," he jibed. "Gotta leave me some secrets."

She gave a shrug and nodded in acknowledgement.

They landed in Indiana, the destination feeling so mundane for such an interesting assignment, in Bobbi's voal opinion.

"The worst of the world is hiding in plain sight, Agent Morse," Phil said in a soft yet sten voice.

Bobbi shrugged, glancing down briefly to make sure her bo-staff and gun were secure as an Impala rolled up beside them, the driver hanging his head out of the front window.

"I was really only expecting you and Red," he said, annoyed. "I guess a couple of ya can ride with Bobby, he's coming behind us."

Morse turned her attention at the sound of her name, realizing that they meant the older man in the truck now pulling up behind the car.

"Jessica?" A second young man's head joined the others, she could see his upper body twisted around in his seat to get a better look. She glanced behind her and then back towards him as he called for 'Jessica' a second time.

"Agent Morse," she said, cautiously extending her right hand. "I work with your brother."

"Sam," he said, looking slightly upset. "You, uh, you look like someone I knew. Sorry."

"No problem," she said, and moved aside as Clint and Natasha climbed in the back. She was grateful to be sharing a car with the old guy and Phil.

Sam seemed slightly shaken after seeing what appeared to be his girlfriend who had burned to death exactly like their mother, and rightfully so. He was, however, valiantly trying to remain focused on the task at hand as they drove.

They were pulled over by a cop, and the ensuing action that took place lead to Dean informing the group that he could now see, among other things, the true faces of demons.

"You are utterly fucked," Clint bemoaned as he ran his hands down his face. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Bobby proposed that as Dean was now damned, he could see the corrupted souls of the demons. Clint shuddered at the thought of being able to actually see the monsters underneath the human suits they wore, but they quickly realized how to take advantage of it.

They could use all the advantages they could get as they went up against the forces of Hell.

Word Count: 1,624 without A/N