Chapter 15
It's Not Complicated
"Well, if it isn't my friendly neighborhood Superman." Dean could hear the smile in his friend's voice as Bobby answered the phone. "You burnt that damned thing yet?"
Dean sighed. "No, sir. We wanted to see if we could find our villain first. We, uh, thought you might have been lying about burning it."
"You thought it was me, didn't you?"
Dean cleared his throat, happy that Bobby wasn't there to witness the reddening of his face. "Can never be too careful."
"Well, to tell the truth, I'm glad you were suspicious."
"You are?"
"Yeah. I was wrong. Pulling something like you did with that rabbit's foot wouldn't have worked. You need a different ritual for this one."
"What is it?"
"Grab a piece of paper and a pencil," he older man said, "it's complicated." Dean did as he was told. "First off, you've gotta do it at night. You build up a fire with corn stalks-"
"Corn stalks?" Dean asked.
"Corn stalks. You've gotta love origin stories."
"Right. Kansas. All right, so I'm burning corn stalks at night. Anything else?"
"You need the blood of the hero and villain."
"That's impossible. Superman can't get hurt."
"True," Bobby said slowly, "but you're not Superman."
"But I'm invincible. I fell off a roof the other day and-"
"The wound has to be self-inflicted. And it has to be at night. The Earth's yellow sun and all that mumbo-jumbo."
"So I can get hurt at night."
"You haven't been listening, have you?" Bobby snapped. "You can only hurt yourself. And only at night."
Dean nodded, making a note of that fact. "Ok. So, I find the villain and I kill her-"
"No!"
"Dude, why not?"
"The moment you put o that cape, you created a villain," Bobby explained, "the two of you are linked now. You kill the villain, there's no reason to have a hero."
"I'll lose the powers?"
"You'll lose your life. Your daddy and I found that one out the hard way."
"You killed the last villain?"
"And the last hero."
"Ok," Dean nodded, "so I light some corn stalks on fire, coat 'em with my blood and the blood of the psychopath who's been killing innocent people because of me, and then I burn the cape?"
"The blood has to be from your head," Bobby clarified.
"What?"
"The specifics of the curse," the older man explained, "George Reeves was shot in the head. Whether by his own hand or by some else's is up to you, but the cape was his and the blood needs to be drawn in a similar fashion."
"You want me to shoot myself in the head?"
He could hear the annoyance in Bobby's voice as the other hunter answered. "Just a scrape. Just enough to bleed. And don't go shootin' your villain, either."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Dean deadpanned. "So, is that everything?"
Bobby was slow in answering, possibly looking over his own list. "Night, corn, blood, cape. Looks like everything."
"And there's no Latin or anything?"
"Boy, this is Hollywood. They wouldn't have gotten it right, anyway. No, the magic's in the cape."
Dean smirked. "That sounds pretty Disney, Bobby. Add a couple of songs and some talking rodents and you've got yourself a feature film." The phone clicked and Dean was left listening to a very loud, long tone. "Didn't even say good-bye," he muttered, flipping the phone shut and setting it on the table next to him.
The hunter stood up and stretched his legs, folding up the piece of paper he'd grabbed to write Bobby's instructions on and slipping it into his pants pocket. He was surprised to hear the familiar noise of a cell phone vibrating across the table, and immediately reached down and picked it up, flipping it open to answer.
"Good-bye," he announced, figuring it was Bobby.
"Dean?" Sam's voice asked.
"Sammy? Um, thought you were someone else. What's up?"
"I found the girl," Sam reported, "but I might need some help persuading her to stay away from cars. Did you call Bobby?"
Dean nodded. "Yep. He knows how to end it. Said it was good we waited, too, because he was wrong."
"Great," Sam said, "look, I'm in downtown Black Rock, up on the roof of the Hartley Complex. You know where that is?"
"Yeah, it's on the way to dad's storage locker. But why are you-?"
"Kristen works in the building. I wanted to make sure I saw her leave. She's getting off soon, and I'm thinking I'll need back-up. You want to run over here?"
"Um, sure," Dean sputtered, grabbing his jacket and heading out the door, "I just need to pick something up first."
"Great. I'll be waiting."
"Oh, and Sammy?"
"Yeah?"
"If you see our girl, try not to kill her, ok?"
"Sure thing, Dean." Both men hung up.