Chrys sat in the kitchen, letting a cup of tea warm her hands while she listened to the Winchesters argue around her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean snapped.
"Dean-" Sam started.
"Don't you 'Dean' me. I mean, you, you have had some stupid ideas in the past, but this." Chrys ignored Dean when he glared at her. "Did you know about this?"
She sipped her tea, but said nothing, and kept her gaze away from his.
Dean switched targets to Bobby. "Did you know about this?"
Bobby frowned. "What?"
"About Sam's genius plan to cram the devil down his throat."
Bobby nodded, and Dean threw his hands in the air. "Well, thanks for the heads up!"
Bobby rolled over to sit next to Chrys. "Hey, this ain't about me. Or Chrys, so leave us out of it."
Dean turned back to Sam. "You can't do this."
Sam nodded. "That's the consensus."
Dean nodded. "All right. That's awesome. Then, end of discussion." Dean's phone rang, and he pointed at Sam as he dug it out of his pocket. "This isn't over. Hello?"
He wandered away, and Sam put a hand on Chrys's shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled. "That went well."
Sam chuckled. "Yeah, about as well as I expected it to, anyway."
She leaned into his leg when he stood next to her, taking her cup of tea with her. "He'll come around, Sam," she said softly, closing her eyes when he began threading his big fingers through her hair.
This was strange territory for Chrys. She wanted to encourage him, because she could feel that he almost… Wanted to do this. Sam thought this would redeem him, and she disagreed, he was already redeemed. Sam thought this was the only plan, and she agreed. At least, she couldn't think of anything better. So, as much as she hated it, as much as it made her cry in the shower (when she wasn't showering with Sam), she nodded and smiled and agreed, even as her heart felt like it was tearing out of her chest.
"Human, wow. Sorry." she heard Dean say.
She turned to look at him with a frown. He was nodding into the phone. "All right, well, look, no worries. Bobby's here, he'll wire you the cash."
Bobby's eyebrows rose. "I will?"
Dean ignored him. "Cass, it's okay. Thank you." He pulled a bitchface. "I appreciate that," he said dryly.
He flipped the phone shut and looked at them evenly. "Okay, back to-"
Chrys rolled her eyes. "Ugh, shut up. What did Castiel want?"
Dean sighed. "He had some sort of… Delayed reaction to the situation at the angelic green room. He's in the hospital. Says he 'lost consciousness and appeared on a shrimping boat off Delacroix.'"
Chrys blinked. "Okay, what does all of that mean?"
Dean shrugged. "He's human now."
They pulled up to the convalescent home that Pestilence was currently residing in. Chrys looked out through the window, wincing. "So this is Dr. Evil's lair?"
Sam scoffed. "It's kind of more depressing than evil."
Dean nodded. "It's like a four-color brochure for dying young. Of course, to Pestilence, it's probably Dollywood in there."
Sam sighed. "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?"
Dean grinned. "I have a plan."
Sam nodded, then turned back to Chrys with trepidation on his face. "I don't suppose you'd stay here?"
She reached over and opened the door, rolling her eyes. "Eat me, Winchester," she said with no heat in her words.
They walked down the hall, looking for trouble. Chrys was keyed up, ready for battle, and the silence and stillness of the place they were in was grating on her nerves.
Dean found an office that said 'SECURITY' on the door, and he stepped in. Chrys and Sam followed.
The security guard turned round in his chair, frowning. Dean put on a charming smile. "Hi. Uh, I'm looking for my Nana. Uh, her name is Eunice Kennedy."
The guard pointed out the door. "Go around front and see the nurse."
"You mind just helping us out, sir? Uh, she's about, uh, about that small, and gray hair, wears diapers."
Before the man could respond, Dean stepped forward and hit him hard in the face. The guard went down.
Chrys sighed and sat in one of the chairs in front of the security monitors as Sam stared at Dean. "Eunice Kennedy?"
Dean grinned. "That's the beauty about improv, Sammy. You never know what's gonna come out of your mouth."
Several hours later, Chrys was in Sam's lap, her legs across his, her face tucked into his neck, almost completely asleep. She jumped a little when Sam spoke.
"So what are…" She cracked an eye open to see that Dean was almost asleep, too. Poor Sammy's the only one with staying power, she thought as Sam leaned over and kicked Dean's chair.
"Hey." Dean jumped awake and looked at Sam. "What are we even looking for?"
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face. "Well, he's Pestilence, so he probably looks sick."
Chrys scoffed. "Everybody looks sick."
Sam stiffened and pointed at a monitor. "Hey."
The picture had become distorted and staticky, and Dean nodded. "Oh, now we're talking."
They stood, and Sam turned to her. "What can I do to convince you to stay here?"
She brushed past him out to the hallway. "Nothing, Sam, come on."
He groaned behind her and she led the way down the hallway, scanning open rooms and closed doors alike. Her stomach felt heavy, but she felt lighter at the same time. It was good to be back in action, especially after having the Winchesters following her around telling her to sit down for three weeks.
As they rounded a corner, she noticed them both slow down. She frowned at Sam's back, and fear started to curl in her belly when his shoulders hunched a little, which told her he was coughing. When she looked over at Dean, he was the same.
"Guys," she said softly, "We're getting close."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, stay behind me, Chrys."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh for fuck's sake," she snapped, grabbing their arms on either side of her and pulling them behind her. "You stay behind me."
Sam straightened up, as did Dean, and she frowned. "Why is this working? I was susceptible to Famine."
"But not to War," Sam said, coming up to put a hand on her shoulder.
Dean shrugged. "Probably exploited the chink in your armor, Chrys. You already had an addiction goin' in, that's why he was able to use it."
She nodded. "Well, whatever it is, let's be grateful it seems to be working on Pestilence, and let's go get that damn ring."
They followed her down the hallway after Dean handed her the shotgun he'd been holding. When they rounded a second corner, they came upon the bodies of a nurse and a doctor. Chrys frowned. "God dammit," she muttered, angry.
This place was far too similar to the place her mother lived, as far as Chrys was concerned. Who preys on the weak? Bastards, that's who. Bastards prey on the weak.
They came to the room they had seen Pestilence in, and Chrys knocked on it using the shotgun. A demon opened the door, smiling. Her smile faltered when she realized that the three of them were still standing, perfectly fine.
"Uh…"
"Sam! Chrys! Dean!" The tall, thin man behind the demon shouted. "So glad you could make it. You seem… Well…" He faltered, too, when he saw them.
Chrys smiled. "Yeah, go ahead and feel free to go fuck yourself. We're here for the ring."
He stared at her hard for a long few moments, and she broke into a light sweat. Her eyes widened. He's trying to make me sick.
Unconsciously, Chrys's mind went to the child she was carrying. When it did, a fierce protectiveness and a wild anger swept through her. She glared at the Horseman in front of her, and let her anger wrap around her and the Winchesters. No.
He blinked, and then glared. "You self-righteous little bitch-"
Chrys cut him off by shooting him in the chest. "Fuck you."
Pestilence flew backwards, and the demon who had opened the door snarled. Chrys heard Sam start to mutter an exorcism, but the demon smoked out before they could finish it.
Chrys scowled and stalked forward toward the Horseman, letting her anger lead her. She held a hand out to Dean. "Knife," she said curtly.
She heard the smile in his voice. "Yes, doctor," he said mockingly as he pressed the blade into her hand.
She rolled her eyes and leaned down to Pestilence. He met her eyes, glowering. "It doesn't matter. It's too late."
Chrys thought about saying something clever, but realized that she really just wanted to be done with it. So she leaned forward and cut all four fingers off of the hand with the ring on it. Overkill, maybe, but she felt better for it.
They were back at Bobby's place, in the study, and Chrys wished vehemently that she could get a drink.
"Well, it's nice to actually score a homerun for once, ain't it?" Bobby asked. When the three of them just looked at him, he frowned. "What?"
"The last thing Pestilence said," Chrys answered, "'It's too late.'"
"He get specific?"
Sam shook his head and came to wrap an arm around Chrys. "No."
"We're just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere," Dean said, "So please, tell us you have actual good news."
Bobby nodded. "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's brow furrowed. "Huh."
The newly human Castiel frowned. "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 kickstarts this storm, get his ring back-"
Dean scoffed. "Yeah, you make it sound so easy."
"Hell, I'm just trying to put a spin on it."
"Bobby, how did you put all of this together?" Chrys asked, impressed again by the older hunter's prowess.
He shrugged again, but didn't meet her eyes. "I had… You know… Help."
"Don't be so modest."
Chrys jumped at the sound of Crowley's voice behind her. With a growl, Sam wrapped his arm around her and moved so he was between her and the demon. She rolled her eyes at his possessiveness, but it did leave a warm little glow in her heart that she would never admit to anyone. Ever.
Crowley looked smug. "I barely helped at all. Hello boys, my lady. Pleasure, et cetera." He looked at Bobby. "Go ahead. Tell them. There's no shame in it."
Sam frowned and turned to Bobby. "Tell us what?"
Bobby still refused to meet anyone's gaze, and Chrys's eyes narrowed. "World's gonna end… Seems stupid to get all precious over one little… Soul."
Dean stood, furious. "You sold your soul?"
"Oh, more like pawned it," Crowley said amicably. "I fully intend to give it back."
Chrys frowned. "Then give it back."
Crowley shook his head. "I will."
"Now!" Dean shouted.
"Did you kiss him?" Sam asked. Chrys smacked him on the chest. He shrugged. "What? Just wondering."
"No!" Bobby snapped.
In response to this, Crowley held up a cell phone, which featured a photo of he and Bobby kissing.
Bobby scowled. "Why'd you take a picture?"
Crowley cocked an eyebrow. "Why'd you use tongue?"
Chrys wrinkled her nose. "For shame, Bobby." Sam chuckled.
Dean, however, was not amused. "All right. You know what? I'm sick of this. Give him back his soul. Now."
"I'm sorry, I can't."
"Can't, or won't?" Chrys asked.
"Won't, all right?" the demon snapped. "It's insurance."
"What are you talking about?" Dean snarled.
"You kill demons. 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."
Later, after realizing that the Croatoan virus was in the swine flu vaccines that were going to be sent out, Chrys was loading the truck with Castiel and Bobby.
Castiel looked distressed. "Cass, what's wrong?" Chrys asked, putting another bag of ammunition in the back. Sam had given her a bitchface for carrying the heavy stuff, and she had ignored it, per the usual.
"This… This is what they mean by 'the eleventh hour,' right?"
She nodded. "Pretty much."
He sighed. "Well, it's the eleventh hour, and I am useless. All I have is this." He waved the shotgun in his hand. "What am I even supposed to do with it?"
She stared at him. "Point it and shoot, Cass. You shoot people with it."
He siged. "What I used to be-"
Seeing that Bobby was approaching, Chrys smacked the angel on the arm. "Shut up about what you used to be. Bobby's coming." At his further distressed look, she softened. "Castiel, you'll be fine. You can do this, you're a soldier. It's like riding a bike."
He frowned. "I have never ridden a bike."
She groaned. "Jesus help me."
Later, with Bobby driving (which he had insisted on after Crowley gave him the use of his legs back), Chrys sat in the backseat and listened to Castiel and Sam talk.
"'Yes' to Lucifer," the angel said thoughtfully. "Then jump in the hole. It's an interesting plan."
Chrys snorted in unison with Bobby. "That's a word for it," Bobby growled.
Sam sighed. "So? Go ahead, tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard."
"Of course. I am happy to say that, if that's what you want to hear. But it's not what I think."
Chrys's eyebrows raised, and Sam turned around to stare at the angel. "Really?"
Cass shrugged. "You and Dean have a habit of… Exceeding my expectations. He resisted Michael. Maybe you could resist Lucifer. But there are things that you would need to know."
"Like?"
"Michael has found another vessel."
Chrys sat up. "What?"
Castiel nodded. "It's Adam. You must have considered it."
Sam winced. "We were trying not to."
Cass put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Sam… If you say yes to Lucifer and fail… This fight will happen. And the collateral… It'll be immense. There's also the demon blood."
Chrys frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"To take in Lucifer. It would be more than you've ever drunk."
Sam seemed to pale. "But… Why?"
"It strengthens the vessel. Keeps it from exploding."
"But the guy he's possessing now-" Chrys protested.
"Drinking gallons of it," Cass interrupted.
"And how is that not the worst plan you ever heard?" Bobby asked from the front.
Bobby was looking at the Niveus Pharmaceuticals warehouse through binoculars. "Yup, they're loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks." He put the binoculars down. "Okay, first truck don't leave for an hour. We get in, we plant the C-4 every twenty-five feet, then we pull the fire alarm."
Castiel pointed. "That truck is leaving."
Bobby looked. "Balls! Okay, we go in now."
Chrys nodded and reached for her gun, but Sam stopped her with a hand reaching over the back seat.
When she met his brown eyes, anger started to burn beneath the surface. "You're gonna hate me for this," Sam said regretfully.
"Don't you dare."
He pitched his voice low. "Chrys, stay here. Be safe. I want you to stay here until I get back, or until you think we're all dead. If that happens, take the truck and run. Okay?"
She struggled to move against the order, but felt herself drop the gun and sit low in the backseat instead. "Fine," she spat, "but you're going to want to watch your limbs when you get back, Sam."
He smiled. "I know." He kept her gaze for a moment. "I love you."
Against her will, she melted a little. "You, too, softie. Now go. Save people."
It was really only a few minutes by herself when a man appeared in the seat next to her out of thin air.
Chrys squeaked and jumped back, blinking. "Um-"
"Hello, Chrysanthemum," he said.
She blinked, then looked at him carefully, examining the power emanating from him. "You're a Horseman. Are you… Are you Death?"
He nodded. "I am, indeed."
Chrys thought about it, then took it in stride. Why not? "What can I do for you?"
He sighed and looked forward. "Nothing, I assume. I find myself in a predicament. Your… Situation… Is unfair. Very unfair. I find myself compelled to assist."
She blinked. "Why?"
He looked at her again. "I have been asking myself that very same question. I have not found a satisfactory answer."
She nodded. "Okay, um, what do you want to 'assist' me with?"
"I can break the bond that ties you to Lucifer."
She outright stared at him, shock cascading through her system. She tried to shake her head to clear it, but that didn't work. So she leaned forward to touch his hand, still blatantly gawking. "What?"
He, however, was looking at where her hand touched his. "Not many people would touch Death, you know."
She shrugged. "Well, life hasn't been good to me. Death doesn't scare me a bit." She bit her lip. "Can you really break the bond?"
He nodded. Maybe War wasn't lying, after all, she thought, dazed.
Then she frowned. "Why would you? Why do you want to help me?"
"Because, quite frankly, that temper tantrum throwing child has gotten under my skin. Because, as I said, I am compelled to try to neutralize an extremely unfair life. And, of course, anything to defy Lucifer."
"Would it… Would it break my bond to Sam?"
"It would no longer be painful to be away from him, and you will not be under his order. It may actually save your life when Sam goes into the fiery pit. And that of your child."
She stared at him for a long time, ignoring the sounds of gunfire and explosions in the warehouse.
"Well, Chrysanthemum? What say you?"
After the successful prevention of the zombie apocalypse, Sam sat in the backseat with Chrys while she slept on his chest. He had one leg stretched along the seat, and she was nestled between his legs, her head resting just under his chin. He'd tilted back enough to let her lay on him.
She had been… Surprisingly okay when they'd gotten back to the truck. He had not, as she had warned, had to watch his limbs. She'd just asked softly that he sit in the back with her, then crawled into his lap and cuddled with him.
It was weird.
She may be planning to kill me.
Or, you idiot, he thought nastily to himself, she's in love with you, and you just volunteered to go to hell. Maybe she's upset.
Sam sighed and pressed his lips to her hair.
She'll be okay, he told himself, willing himself to believe.
She'll be okay without me.
**Feedback gives me the warm fuzzies and keeps me going.
