Chapter 4

Dean woke groggily, peeling his eyes open with sheer willpower. Why was he so sore? Groaning, he rolled over to see Sam still fast asleep. He hadn't gone for his morning run? That was odd. Shaking off the strange exhaustion, Dean got up for breakfast. Somewhere, he smelled eggs and bacon grease. He thought through his conversation with Bobby. They needed to see Roberta's remains and figure out what they meant. Maybe the could offer a clue about Eris and how to get rid of her. What had she told him? That he would see two people again and then make a choice? After seeing and talking to Bobby, he knew she had the power but… Would she really bring back Jo? Did he really want her to? Listening to his little brother sleep, he decided to go find the goddess and ask. Grabbing his army green jacket, he shrugged into it and started walking. She had a thing for junk food. That shouldn't be too hard to find in a town this size.

##

Ereshkigal sat on a bench with a large, hot styrofoam container on her lap. The shorts she wore did not cover most of her long, tan legs, but that was the point. She wore a thin orange tank top with bright yellow letters that read "#YOLO". Every man stared at her and it pleased her when they did. She wouldn't dare let one of them so much as drool on her, but the attention from the little animals was satisfying. Perhaps when she went back down below, she could entertain herself with Nergal for a while. He was by far the most exciting pet she had. Pet. Husband. Same difference.

Opening the squeaking lid of the white container, she stared at the golden treasure it held. Hot, melted cheese dripped from almost every corner of the box, running down her thigh. It would have burned one of the mortal animals, but she reveled in the pain it brought. Digging her long fingers into the pile of nachos, she brought them to her lips with a satisfied moan. Her whole body shook with pleasure. The small chips couldn't handle all that she'd put on them and several of the toppings fell off, not that it mattered. It was a glorious mountain of cheese, chips, refried beans, onions, some diced tomatoes, the hottest salsa she could find, jalapeños and green onions. In all honesty, there was more of the melting cheese than anything else. It ran down her hands as she shoveled more into her mouth. For being inferior creatures, these mortals certainly had a skill for making spicy food. Eyes rolling back in intense pleasure, she swallowed the latest mouthful.

"Really, Ereshkigal? First a whole plate of chili cheese fries and now nachos? You're going to loose your figure."

Gray eyes flashing open, she took in the woman standing before her. The blond was built like an athlete, clearly out on a jog. Her shorts were just long enough to cover her backside, but nothing else. Little was left to the imagination. The shirt, clearly designed for someone half her size, read "Make PEACE not WAR". With an annoyed eye roll and sigh, Eris began cleaning the cheesy mess from her face.

"The irony is strong in this one," she grumbled as the blond sat down beside her. "What are you this decade, sister mine? War nurse? Decide to be a stable boy again? You certainly enjoyed that in 1915, bedding as many soldiers as you could."

"I'm a sorority sister now!" the blond bubbled.

Picking at something in her teeth, she stared at the blond.

"Ishtar, that's a little outside your comfort zone, isn't it?"

She sighed in exasperation.

"Why does war always have to involve death and blood?"

Giving her little sister a flat look, Eris said "Because that's what war is."

"I'm quite well fed in my house. There is lots of strife and subterfuge there, you'd be surprised. I am quite satisfied with it."

The way her dark green eyes glittered, Eris guessed she didn't just mean feeding on the strife.

"You like frat boys now?"

Ishtar moaned and leaned back, a wickedly triumphant smile painting her lips.

"What isn't to like? They never say no and they go on for-"

"Oh just stop!" Eris yelled, attracting attention. "I don't want to hear about your exploits!"

The green in her eyes deepened.

"You asked," she said with a raised eyebrow. "You know better. War is not my only gift."

With a repulsed shiver, Eris dug back into her treasure trove of cheese.

"You do know there are two hunters in town, right? The Winchesters. They're awfully pretty…"

"I do. One is playing along with me and the other won't survive the week."

"Oh!" Ishtar said, her face pouting. "I do wish you'd told me! I could have had some fun with him! He wouldn't have even known he was dying!"

Eris shook her head.

"No. It's too dangerous. They don't know you're here and I'd like to keep it that way. If they did and somehow managed to call any of their fellow hunters, you'd be dead by the end of the week."

Ishtar was similar to Ereshkigal, but not exactly the same. Eris had given up her right to life in order to rule Irkalla as she saw fit. Ishtar would never grow old and die, but she could be killed. Her flesh was still mortal, though it did not age.

"You're so dramatic, Ereshkigal. They don't know how to kill me."

"These dogs are not like the others you've bedded to death. They'll start with cutting off your pretty little head and see where that gets them. You don't want to know what they'd do to you. I won't let that happen."

Sighing deeply, Ishtar rolled her eyes.

"Fine. If you insist."

Resting her hand on Ishtar's, Eris smiled.

"It's my job. I'm your big sister. I married a god and keep him imprisoned in my kingdom because he insulted you."

"That wasn't just about me. He insulted you too. How is the big oaf? Have you let him out of his personal hell yet?"

Eris shrugged, sliding a finger along the edge of the styrofoam, gathering cheese.

"No. He hasn't said the magic word."

"How long has it been this time?"

"Only two hundred fifty mortal years. Hardly a blink of an eye in Irkalla."

Ishtar giggled.

"And the magic word?"

"Today it's popcorn. Tomorrow, it'll probably be something different. You'd think he would know better by now. Someday he will give me the respect he ought."

Glancing down at her watch, Ishtar stood and stretched. Eris had gotten looks when she'd walked around in her tank top and short shorts. Ishtar stopped traffic. Literally. Men and women both gawked at her as she stretched herself. Goddess of fertility… Anyone who survived the week would be giving birth in a few months.

"Stop distracting the human race. I've got a meeting," Eris said, nodding to a man approaching them.

Ishtar moaned.

"He looks so yummy! Please?"

"That's the one I'm playing with! Now go before he figures out who you are!"

Ishtar rolled her eyes and began jogging, thriving in the attention she got. Closing the empty box, Eris threw it in the garbage as she stood.

"Good morning, Dean," she said with a deep sigh.

There was something so… fulfilling about a good meal. She did not miss his eyes wandering over her. So easily distracted, these dogs.

"What the hell," he grumbled, glaring at her.

"Hell is my domain. What do you want with it? You miss it?"

"What? No. No! I just mean. What the hell with Roberta Jenkins? Why did you kill her?"

Eris gasped.

"Roberta is dead? When? How?"

Dean stared at her flatly.

"Burned to a crisp in her house. Doors and windows locked. From the inside. I know it was you."

"Do you, now?" She said, raising an eyebrow as she slid her hands into her pockets.

"That wasn't 24 hours."

Smiling, she began to walk.

"But it was. I never said who's 24 hours it would be. I even gave you an extra hour. That was 25 hours in Irkalla."

He shook his head as he followed her.

"No. It was all in my head. It didn't really happen."

"Didn't it? Could you not taste the eggs this morning? Were your muscles not sore from working on your car all night? Your heart did not ache when you saw the empty couch after you woke?"

He had no response.

"I have great power, yes. But it has limits. I cannot waltz the dead in and out endlessly. The door locks from either side if I try to move souls too much."

"I don't believe that."

Sometimes she thought this particular pup was too smart.

"Fine. I can take them out as much as I want. But they don't know that. They believe it's a one way trip and I need it to stay that way. If the souls learn that they can come and go endlessly, it will be a mess down there. I have had peace in Irkalla for almost 500 years. It was hard fought."

They were quite for a few minutes as they walked. He was lost deep in his own thoughts. Mortal thoughts were so trivial, so narrow-minded.

"When were you last upstairs?" he asked.

Perhaps not so trivial…

"Mmmmmm," she said, thinking over how many souls had come to her in those years.

She and Ishtar had made a perfect team in those days.

"I was last upstairs in 1942. It was a glorious year. There was much to be done. The souls tried to revolt in your year 1950. Why?"

"You go underground after a big harvest."

"I only remain in Irkalla if I choose to."

He was getting dangerously close to learning something that a dog ought not know. Time to redirect.

"How was your time with Robert?"

"It was…"

She watched him try to decide if lying to her was the safest option.

"It was nice," he finally said, honestly.

The sincerity in his voice surprised her. Of course she knew Robert had raised the boy, but she hadn't expected him to answer her honestly about how he'd enjoyed visiting with his friend again. This would be fun when she returned his lover to him.

"Why did it take so long?"

"What?"

"Why did it take you so long to get Bobby to me?"

He really was a thinker. Perhaps she should have chosen the shaggy one to toy with.

"I had to wait until you were no longer conscious. Entering your mind during a dream state is not as easy as it sounds, despite my many talents."

Suddenly his walking stopped. Mortals were so sensitive about their mind space.

"Wait. You were IN my HEAD!?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"How else was I supposed to project Robert's soul into your mind?"

Minutes passed as he glared at her. His features were pronounced so much more when he was angry. His eyes were darker and she could see him fight the dark nature he carried with him. It was taking everything he had within him to keep from trying to remove her head right now. A strange warmth and desire welled in the pit of her stomach. She'd never desired a mortal before, not like this. Perhaps while she still wore her mortal flesh, she would try something new that had nothing to do with food.

"Are you going to do the same thing with Jo?" he asked quietly, his face changing.

Longing colored his eyes, deep guilt and sorrow mixing in with it.

"I will, yes. As soon as you slumber tonight."

"Can you…" his voice cracked. "Can you give us more time?"

Again this dog surprised her. He held much more emotion than he let on. Tilting her head to one side, she felt her stomach rumble despite it being full of nachos.

"I will consider it."

He stared at the cement, hands in his pockets. He looked very small in that moment, full of so much emotion. It was so easy to read, like a children's book. Guilt touched everything he felt. These two that he loved so dearly were dead because of him. Or so he believed.

"I do have to say," she said, interrupting his emotional breakdown. "I very much enjoyed our date yesterday."

Her sister may have gotten all of the talent for fertility and love, but flirting was common to every female. His eyes shot up and his face paled.

"We," he said, motioning between the two of them. "Did NOT have a date."

"Is it not your custom to have the male pay for the female's meal?"

"That was NOT a date!"

She smiled.

"Wasn't it, though? We talked, got to know each other better. It even ended with a fascinating kiss. Tell me, little dog, in what way was it NOT a date?"

Mouth open, he stared at her, unsure how to proceed. It was so much fun to play with the animals.

"There has to be SOME attraction between both parties."

Her eyes rolled lazily.

"Dean. Do you think I miss the way you stare at me? I wore that shirt for you yesterday. You do still enjoy 'The Smurfs', do you not?" She watched him with wicked pleasure. "And YOU kissed me back. It has been some time since a mortal has been brave enough to try."

He stared at her, mouth still open. The poor little puppy.

"I'm starving. Are you hungry, little pet?"

Holding up a single finger, she saw the fire return to eyes.

"I am no one's pet."

"Fine, fine. Are you hungry?"

He shrugged.

"I could eat."

Taking his hand, she pulled him along until she found the little cart she'd been longing for.

"Buy me one," she said, pointing to it.

Brow furrowing, he looked at her oddly.

"You want a hotdog?"

Smiling brightly, she nodded.

"Yes."

Walking with him to the little cart, he pulled out the animal hide that held the paper he paid with.

"Two hotdogs please."

The short, fat man looked at her, eyes burning with lust. Ishtar wasn't the only one to make people stare.

"What would you like on it, Miss?"

"I want the biggest one you have. Cover it with everything."

The man looked her up and down, shrugged, an did as she asked. Dean handed him the green paper, shaking his head the whole time.

"No, no," she said. "That's not everything."

The fat dog stared at her, confused.

"That's everything I have for hotdogs."

"I didn't say everything for hotdogs," she growled back. "I. Said. Everything."

Dean stared awkwardly at her as the other man put the other toppings on the hotdog.

"You do realize those are ice cream toppings, right?"

She looked down at the food in the man's outstretched hand. Horseradish, mustard, ketchup, onions and chocolate sprinkles covered it. Dean looked like he would vomit. It tasted divine, no matter what anyone else thought.

"Okay," she said twenty minutes later. "So you want more time with her?"

He looked away form her.

"How much more do you want? Again, this will all be in your mind, so it will move differently."

Rubbing at the back of his neck, he shifted his weight in discomfort.

"How much are you willing to give?"

She almost felt bad for him. Almost.

"Depends what I get in return. I gain nothing by letting you be with her longer."

"What do you want."

That was a good question. What DID she want? The strange warmth in the pit of her stomach returned. Perhaps his love of this girl would not be strong enough.

"Are you sure you want to know the price of your request?"

"What do you want," he repeated.

"I will give you six extra hours with her, 30 hours total, if you do one thing."

His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

"Kiss me like you'd kiss her. If I don't believe it, I cut your time in half."

Running a hand over his mouth, he glared at her. If flames could have shot out of his eyes and killed her right then, he would have done it.

"Make me believe it or you get twelve hours."

"30? You promise?"

She nodded slowly, anticipation shooting electricity through her flesh.

"How do I know you'll actually give it to me?"

"You don't. But you can rest assured that I will give you twelve hours if I am not satisfied."

The indecision in his eyes fascinated her. He wanted so badly to be with his female, but he did not want to buy that time in this way. Clearly, his desire was stronger than his reluctance. Determination sharpening his already strong features, he strode to her. Few had kissed her with such intensity. Nergal never even dared to kiss her at all unless she commanded him. Such was her strength and power. But he did not hold back. Too soon, in her opinion, he pulled away. Leaving her eyes closed for a few moments more, she let the feelings wash over her.

"Well, Dean Winchester," she spoke slowly. "That was quite satisfying."

"30 hours. You promise? Say it."

Finally, her eyes fluttered open.

"After that? I may even throw in a few extras. Most mortals are afraid of the power I wield. You certainly did not hold back. As soon as you lose consciousness, it will begin."

Running a finger along her lower lip, her gray eyes smoldered up at him.

"See you tonight, pet."

##

Dean walked back to the hotel, disgusted. Not with the thing he'd just… No. Disgusted with himself. He'd bargained for more time. Why hadn't he done that with Bobby? Cause he really didn't think it would work. Opening the motel door, he saw Sam shuffle out of the bathroom.

"Mornin' sleeping beauty," he said.

"What time is it?" Sam asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Looking down at his watch, he hadn't realized the time.

"Well. Morning is a bit late. Looks like it's lunchtime, Sammy. You feelin' alright?"

Rubbing at the mop on his head, Sam nodded.

"Yeah. I guess I was more tired than I thought. Time for the morgue?"

Dean nodded and they headed out.

The morgue was useless. Nothing spiked at the house either. A frustrating day driving around the little town and they had nothing to show for it. Dean watched as Sam collapsed on his bed. Why was he so exhausted all of a sudden? It didn't make any sense. Sitting at the table, listening to Sam snore louder than the night before, Dean knew there was only one way he'd fall asleep. Pulling open a brown bag he'd picked up while he was out, he opened the bottle of whiskey. Not bothering with a glass, he began drinking. He didn't remember falling asleep. He didn't remember moving to his bed, either. He didn't remember bringing a girl home. Slowly, he moved his arm and realized the warm spot in the bed beside him was empty.

"What the hell, Dean?" she scolded.