Chapter Fifteen

You Don't Need Crossroads and Demons to Make a Deal With the Devil

A man in a fancy, expensive suit sat on a park bench next to a guy in a snakeskin cowboy hat. Each held a cup of coffee and had a bag of some sort at their feet. "You're sure you can deliver the girl?" The man in the suit asked, solicitously. "The boss has been looking for her for a long time now. He'll be disappointed if this deal falls through, if you understand my meaning." His meaning being that they would both sorely regret the failure.

"Yeah, I'm sure. I know exactly where she is. I just need some time to convince her to come." The man in the hat wasn't worried. He'd been around longer than the man in the suit and had learned a thing or two about survival. He could disappear as effectively as any apparition dissipating into thin air. 'The boss' had nothing on him. What he did have was the answer to Sam Winchester's current dilemma: a way to have both he and his brother pardoned, free and clear of the law. Unfortunately, as it had always been and would always be, everything came with a price.

"He'll need some sort of insurance, you understand? Proof that she is who you claim her to be?" Of course the conniving old coot would ask for insurance. What, did he think this was the first time he'd made a deal with a devil before? "I been following her family around since her grandad's grandfather's time. It's her. Proof's in the bag. I got exactly what he asked for." The man in the hat pushed the backpack over toward the man in the suit with his foot but stopped when it was just out of comfortable reach. "You have something for me?" It wasn't a question but a demand. The terms had been clear. At this juncture it was proof of the girl for the Winchesters walking, free and clear, no strings attached

"It's all there, to be issued at your discretion. You'll have to make it appear difficult for them to truly believe without suspicion." The man in the suit warned halfheartedly. He was only offering the advice in order to maintain the integrity of the deal. The girl would not be delivered until their end of the bargain had been fully completed. "No kidding? John Winchester's paranoid boys are going to need a little extra convincing, you say? I would've never guessed." Hat guy looked suit guy square in the eye, not the least bit intimidated by the power he was so obviously used to wielding in order to make people bend to his will. "Look, this stuff you're giving me advice on? This is my life. I know what I'm doing. You worry about your politics and intrigue, kid, leave the adults to handle the big kid jobs eh?"

As the man with the snakeskin hat walked away from the bench and a slightly stunned man in a suit, he grinned a toothy, satisfied smile. The bag he had in hand finally had the answers he needed for Sam and the key to getting the girl's attention. Soon she would get a taste of the action she'd been craving. There wasn't anything in that backpack 'the boss' didn't already know and the girl would be an easy enough sell. She'd proven time and again that she could hold her own. Even if everything went to hell in a hand basket, the plan falling apart as they put it into play, he'd still come out of it scot free with the girl in tow. "Look out Caitlin, here it comes." A past she knew nothing about was about to come crashing out of the shadows to swallow her whole and there wasn't a damned thing a Winchester could do to stop it.


"Will you give it up already? She walks in that door and you're still going on about that damned shirt she'll just walk right back out again, or worse." Sam had managed to sober Dean up, but there was no improving his mood. Not exactly surprising, but definitely frustrating.

"I'm sorry man, it's driving me crazy. Who is the guy? You just spent all that time with her, you've got to know something about it." Sam had not missed that streak of just plain impossible his brother had.

"Fine, but I'm only telling you because I know you won't shut up about it unless I do, okay?" Dean had that look about him, the triumphant 'yes! I am finally getting my way' one that still managed to make him look like the kid who just got the extra cookie. "There is no guy. She got it at Walmart right after we started tailing you because we couldn't risk the Laundromat at the rate you were moving around."

The admission was almost worth the look of shock Dean wore. "That's right Dean, Cal didn't have the time to do laundry, let alone go out and raise some hell." So what Sam was essentially saying was that Dean had given Cal crap about something that hadn't even happened. Let's not forget that this was right on the tail end of her witnessing a not-so-casual encounter outside that dive bar the night before. He was such an idiot! Better not to think about it. Change of subject maybe?

"How long have you guys been following me?" Sam had made it sound like they'd been at it a while. Here Dean thought he'd been doing such a good job of covering his tracks. How much more had they seen? "Long enough." Sam couldn't risk any more than just the two words, Cal would never forgive him if he explained to Dean just how what they had seen had messed with her psyche. At least Dean had the decency to look ashamed of himself. While Dean's inner dialogue went a little something along the lines of I am such an asshole! what came out was a heartfelt "Crap." Somehow neither seemed to quite cover it.

The were interrupted by three rough raps on the cheap particle board door and Cal voice shouting its way through it. "I need a shower, I'm coming in. Everybody better be decent and I don't wanna hear a word out of the Caveman. Period." There was a brief courtesy pause before she opened the door in case there were any objections. Okay, more like she wanted to be sure they were both dressed and Sam had the time to duct tape Dean's mouth over just in case. She barged in with her head down, eyes on the carpet and turned toward them just the once and only long enough to bark out one last order. "You need to go, use the bushes out back. Bathroom's mine as long as the hot water holds out. I totally deserve it." Then she disappeared, flimsy doorknob lock snicking shut loudly in the silence she'd left in her wake.

"Sounds like Cranky McCrankypants could use a coffee." Sam shook his head disapprovingly. Maybe it wasn't too late to dig up something to gag his brother with. It was starting to look like the safer way to go. Only it wouldn't fix anything. Dean would have to put some work into resolving some of the baggage with Cal if they were going to work together indefinitely. Taking his cue from Cal's earlier 'your mess, you clean it up' attitude, Sam gave his brother a shove in the right direction.

"Coffee pot's in the corner over there. You better make a pot of it fast, the guy at the desk said the hot water runs out pretty quickly in this place." Dean was smart enough to understand it was time for him to take the high road. Somewhere deep down he'd known that eventually they'd end up in this exact situation.

Taking comfort in the familiar routine of water, filter and scooping coffee Dean took a minute to consider what his options were. He could hit the road again, go further off the grid and basically hide in his car so they couldn't find him again. If he was being honest with himself, which he hadn't been in quite some time, running wasn't really what he wanted to do. He could give himself up to the feds. There had to be a cop shop somewhere in town. He could just walk in and hand himself over and accept the consequences of whatever actions they were accusing him of before Sam and Cal got any more deeply involved. Truth be told that wasn't an option either. He was too selfish for that.

That left swallowing his pride and sucking it up long enough to make things right with Cal. He was pretty sure she wasn't the kind of girl who gave second chances, but maybe it would be possible to salvage a half decent work relationship.

Cal had cranked the radio up loud enough to drown out the sound of her own thoughts and whatever words the brothers might have been having in the other room. Dean felt rather than heard the clinking of the spoon as he stirred the cream and sugar into two of the three mugs he'd set out. He wished the music could have drowned out his own thoughts too. This wasn't going to anything close to easy. When the music stopped Sam went over to stand next to Dean, as if reading his brother's mind. "Hey, she'll come around." Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't. Whatever the case, Dean was pretty sure he didn't deserve a second thought. It was written all over his face when Cal finally emerged from her sanctuary in a dramatic puff of steam.

Cal took in Dean's sorry-that-I'm-guilty-as-hell had and she just knew they'd been talking about her. Good thing she'd taken the time to shower and regroup before facing the two of them. Winchesters! How was a girl supposed to stay sane around them? "Great, just great! What d'you say to him, Sam? Why's he looking at me like that?" This was already shaping up to be a long, long day.

Dean had been planning to hand her the coffee as a peace offering but considering how defensive she'd become it was safer for Sam to hand it to her. She took it carefully, but not before issuing a warning of her own. "Quit it, Dean. Just, don't look at me like that." The unspoken threat of violence written in the tightly reigned way she held herself. You did that Dean, you're doing it right now. As if he could feel any guiltier.

Sam, wiser of the two that he was, recognized the need for redirection when he saw it. So he jumped in with the news he had been waiting to break until Cal joined them. "John Wayne called while you were out in the car, he's on his way. He thinks he might have what we need to clear Dean." Probably not the best change of subject considering John Wayne was right up there on Cal's 'not my favorite person' list. Still, better to give her the time to prepare for his arrival than just spring the guy on her and blindside her with it.

"Are we still calling him that, then? Or should we just let him know we're aware that his name is actually Malcolm and that we know he's probably older than dirt?" Call them as you see them Cal. "Because, honestly? I'm not sure what the best move is with this guy. I mean, I definitely want to find out what this guy has that he thinks will be the answer to every problem you boys've ever had with the authorities. Do I want to know what the end cost'll be? Not particularly. I've got this bad feeling that it'll turn out to be more than we've got to give."

"Hang on. Wait, just stop a sec. You guys actually know that John Wayne guy? Big dude, wears a weird cowboy hat and likes scare the bejesus out of people by way of sneaking into their motel rooms when they're not there?" Dean wasn't a big fan of the guy, but he had his own reasons for that. It said something that Sam and Cal were dealing with the guy and still didn't trust him. Didn't exactly add to the popularity points in Dean's book.

Cal ignored him outright, choosing instead to start brushing out the tangles in her still-damp hair. "He's the one that found you, actually. He was one of the guys dad served with in the marines, that's why I called him. I asked Bobby and Ash to look him up, just in case." Okay, so Sam was more worried about the guy than he was letting on. So was Cal, judging by how forceful she was becoming with that brush.

"You alright over there She-Ra? You get any rougher with that thing and you're gonna start balding." A tease meant to cover the concern, not nearly as well received as Dean would have hoped. He had earned the scowl though, so it was fair enough. Moving right along he asked the next logical question. "So what do we have on the guy then? There's got to be something if he's got different identities.

"John Wayne's real name is actually Malcolm Mackenzie. Ash is still digging but when I talked to him yesterday he'd found some stuff that might turn out to be a problem." Well they were all about problems these days, weren't they? The way Dean saw it, one more on the heap was just more of the same. When Sam didn't fill in the blanks on his own, Dean got impatient. "Am I going to have to call Ash myself to find out what the 'stuff' is?" It might have come out harsher than he'd intended but the outcome was just what he'd hoped for.

Cal tossed the brush down on the rickety dresser in front of her and turned to Dean. "Malcolm Mackenzie's been around since Thirteen-forty-something Scotland when he died of the plague and came back to life." Words spat angrily out as she twisted her hair up into a loose bun at the nape of her neck. She pretended to concentrate on the elastic she looped around the hair to keep it in place as an excuse to continue avoiding any actual eye contact with Dean. He figured he probably deserved that too.

"You guys trying to tell me we've got to add the Highlander to the list of things we thought didn't exist but actually do? Is this guy dangerous?" All they needed was some poser, kilt wearing cowboy wannabe running around chopping people's heads off with a sword and stealing their souls to get by. "Dunno, ask your brother. He's the one with the answers. I'm going to go grab a decent cup of coffee, this stuff could give sewage a run for its money." She would have run for the door, but that would have given away how desperate she was to get the hell away from Dean. Angry, caustic and rude she could handle. This sudden change to wanting-forgiveness, kill-a-girl-with-kindness Mr. Nice Guy was a whole different ball game. Cal did not like the feeling of being off kilter that being around that man was giving her. Breathing didn't come easy until she pulled the Mustang into the parking lot of the nearest Dunkin' Donuts ten minutes away.

Back at the motel Sam and Dean shared a moment of silence after watching her leave. "Well, that could've gone better." Again with the stating of the obvious, Dean. "Maybe. Could've been a lot worse." Sam made a very valid point. The Cal that Dean had known would have taken a swing at him, at the very least. "Hey, is it just me or is she… I don't know, tamer? Calmer?" Dean could tell the difference but he couldn't quite pinpoint what had changed in Cal. "Guess we'll find out." Was Sam's terse reply; the implication being that having Dean around would put it to the ultimate test.

Well it wasn't like Dean could argue, was it?


Malcolm had been driving toward the motel where the Winchesters were staying when he noticed the little red Mustang pull into the Dunkin' Donuts. It said something that she hadn't noticed his unmistakable, worn out pickup truck as it turned in behind her. Just as well. The girl looked like she could use a minute. The way she ran her fingers up into her hair and grabbed a couple of fistfuls, face contorting as if she was trying hard not to scream. That one had lots to be unhappy about. Maybe it was just as well he could get her alone first. He could tell her everything, the whole truth and nothing but. It sure wouldn't be a terrible thing to have an O'Sulivan back in his court again.

Biding his time so he could get her in the right mood, he went in to the coffee shop ahead of her. Cowboy hat left behind in the interest of anonymity. He watched her as she ordered, fascinated by her every move. Curious about why she felt compelled to order coffee for everyone even though she was the only one there. Four coffees meant that Sam had mentioned his impending arrival. She didn't plan to stick around to eat. She was taking the coffee and her bagful of sugar in donut form straight back. He'd have to intercept her in the parking lot.

"Caitlin!" He called to her from the door as she made her way across the lot toward where she'd parked. She jumped at the sound of her name and he was sorry for startling her. Couldn't be helped though. He had to get her attention. There wasn't much time and there was a lot of ground to cover.

"Holy heart attack much? Don't scare a girl like that! Oh, and it's Cal, buddy. The only two people who've ever been allowed to call me that other name are dead. Use it again and you might just join them." It had taken her a beat to recognize him without the distracting snakeskin, but she knew who he was. "Sorry. I had to be sure you heard me." Cal didn't look like she believed him. Distrust was written all over her features. "What do you want, Malcolm? If that's even your real name." Good, she was a couple of steps further ahead than he'd expected. Less to explain.

"Did someone give you that name, or do you remember?" She smirked at him, almost glad to have something that wasn't the Caveman to figure out. "I guess you could say a little of column A and a little of column B." She wasn't giving any more than that. If there was going to be any volunteering of information it was going to have to be Malcolm's doing. She was so much like her father it made Mal want to smile. He would have too, if he had any way of predicting how she'd interpret it. "I was there the night you killed your first vampire. I was mostly dead, tied to a chair and bleeding out. Your Dad was trying to get me out. We wouldn't have made it out if you hadn't left your hiding spot to help. I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life." A lot had happened that night. At eight years old it wasn't surprising that after everything she'd have fallen asleep in the truck on the way to drop Malcolm off at the train station. "I'd like to do it now, Cal, by returning the favor."