5 – I'm With Stupid

He arrived at the motel as the last of the police cars pulled away.

There was crime scene tape crisscrossing the room's threshold, but John could still see the door was broken, and it looked like there was at least one bullet hole in it. His adrenaline spiked, and he tightened his grip on the Impala's steering wheel. Goddamn it. "Dean, what did you do?" He knew the second he heard the voice mail Dean left him that something bad was going on. He had mentally prepared for the worst, but somehow he hadn't really. This was still like a punch in the gut.

So when the woman knocked on his passenger side window, he just about jumped out of his skin.

It was a young Asian woman, early twenties, attractive, but she was scowling at him like he was in her parking spot. He rolled down the driver's side window, and asked, "What?"

"You took your sweet ass time getting here, John," she snapped.

"Do I know you?"

The woman crossed to the passenger side door, and opened it. John thought about pulling his gun out, but he was way too confused. This wasn't typical demon behavior. "I'm sure Dean mentioned me to you on the phone. I'm Jade."

Yes, it all clicked into place now. "The supposedly real psychic? Good, I was gonna look you up."

She settled into the passenger seat, unasked. "Yes, you think I suckered your son. We can hash that out later, but Dean really isn't that dumb. Oh, and also?" After snapping in her seatbelt, she slapped him across the face.

"Ow!"

"Stop treating him like a soldier, or a weapon. He's a boy who's never really been a boy. He doesn't even think of himself as a child, but he is, and you have been ridiculously hard on him. Now put this fucking car in gear and head out towards Casa Verde. We may be too late as it is."

John sat there, rubbing his face, genuinely stunned. He didn't know if he should shoot her or propose. "Who are you to –"

"I'm the psychic," she interrupted, still angry at him. "Do you want me to tell you Dean's future, John? 'Cause it will horrify you. It scared me, and he was a complete stranger to me. And I don't horrify easy. I grew up in the Castro."

"Lady, look. Even if I buy you're a genuine psychic, I don't like you hitting me, or telling me what kind of father to be. I love Dean."

She scowled. "And that makes it worse. What, do you think you're protecting him and Sam by taking their childhoods away? You know Dean barely knows how to function as a person, right? You taught him to fake it, so he fakes it pretty well, but he doesn't get people at all. He's more at home with the monsters he fights. Think about that for a moment."

He frowned at this woman, still not convinced she wasn't some kind of monster. But he really hated that what she was saying made a degree of sense. Dean was a good soldier, hell, sometimes he was a great soldier … but was that fair? He was torn on this point. What kind of father would he be if he left his boys vulnerable to all the creatures in the world? Mary would never forgive him. Dean was too old; he knew. He could protect Sam to a degree, but it was too late for Dean, had been ever since that night. And it wasn't like telling Dean to drop anything ever worked. He was stubborn, just like his mother.

"If he lives through this, promise me you'll give them a break from this," Jade said, gesturing at the crime scene tape across the motel room door. "Just let them get off the monster beat and be kids for a while. It's what they deserve at the very least."

"If?" John asked. "He's going to."

"I read the cards before I came here, which is why I've been standing in this lousy parking lot for ten minutes, waiting for your phallic muscle car. His future was bad before, but now it keeps getting worse. Things are changing, and not in a positive direction." She slapped the dashboard. "C'mon, point this rust bucket towards Casa Verde."

He bristled, hating to hear his car denigrated on top of his parenting skills, but he could not get over the audacity of this woman. "Why are you here? You don't know them."

"I know at least one of them. And hey, they're fucking kids. You think I'm such a hard hearted bastard I'm going to leave children to monsters like that? Now shut up and drive."

Again, he wasn't sure if he should shoot her or marry her. Maybe when he got to Casa Verde, he'd figure it out.

Dean did not expect to wake up in a soft bed, in a room bright with sunlight. He expected to wake up in his cell, or maybe dead, if one could actually wake up dead. In some cases, it was possible.

But he was in a small, nice room, someone's bedroom, with bright yellow walls and matching furniture. He felt the soft glaze of painkillers in his system, and wondered if he was hallucinating.

He wondered this until he tried to move his right hand, and found he was handcuffed to the bed's metal frame. Kinky. Although he really didn't think this was a positive development.

His left arm was all taped up, and when he pulled the covers off, he saw his ribs were wrapped too. He had various butterfly bandages holding together flaps of ripped skin. They'd stripped him, which bothered him a little, but not much. He kept the covers at his waist. His chest and stomach was splotchy with livid purple and black bruises. So that was a fun thing he never ever wanted to do again.

Dean was trying to figure out if he could reach one of the nightstands, find something he could pick the cuffs with, when the door opened and Evangeline came in. She was dressed in tight jeans, an even tighter red tank top, and a black leather jacket. What was so maddening about her was she was in an attractive host body and she knew it, so she emphasized it. Dean was trying very hard not to find this distracting. "Hello, Dean. Don't bother trying to break out of those. There's nothing you can pick the lock with, and we made sure they were too small for you, so even if you broke your thumb, you couldn't slip your hand out."

Goddamn it. She'd thought of everything. "So you have a lot of experience with handcuffs, huh? Can't say I'm surprised. You look the type."

She continued grinning at him in that unsettling way, like he was her favorite pet. "I'm glad you think you're funny. That probably makes it easier for you."

"I'm goddamn hilarious. Why am I here?"

She sat on the edge of the bed, and put her hand on his face. He got a queasy feeling he was about to get assaulted in some form or another. You know, he'd had dreams like this, usually involving a cheerleading squad, but generally he enjoyed them. He wasn't feeling the enjoyment right now. "Because you're too good to eat. I have bigger plans for you."

Probably a double entendre there, but he wasn't going to make it. He tried to shake off her touch, but she refused to let go. He stopped struggling, because he had a sense she got off on that. She wanted him uncomfortable. Best to play it nonplussed, and hope she didn't see through it. "Oh really? What, am I your show dog now?"

That made her smile broader. She trailed her thumbnail down to his swollen lip, and he braced himself for the cut. "Better. You should be flattered, Dean. You get the privilege of being the human host of Taraka reborn."

Dean sat up, ignoring how the cuffs pulled painfully at his wrist. "Fuck you! I am no demon host."

Her grin was so wide it just about split her whole head in half. She held his face tight, like she was considering crushing it like an egg. "It's cute how you think you have a say in this." She suddenly straddled him, and his sick feeling increased tenfold. She never let go of his face, and he could feel her fingers leaving bruises. "We are going to have so much fun, you and I, ruling over a bloodstained Earth. Just like the old days."

"I'll die first."

"You'll die eventually. But not just anyone could be Taraka's host. We needed someone strong, and you're strong, Dean. A lot stronger than I would have thought at first glance. This whole pit bull thing will serve Taraka so well."

He tried to shake off her grip, couldn't, and finally reached up and grabbed her wrist. He couldn't budge it. She was letting her whole demon side out now, and he couldn't even pretend to fight back. It was over. He was officially trapped. "I will fight you."

"I'm sure you'll try. But that's what makes it so fun. It's no good when the puppies just roll over and play dead. You want them to struggle, to cry and scream and refuse to submit even though they have no choice. The wiggling makes it so good."

She leaned in, as if to kiss him, and he did the only thing he could do. He headbutt her.

Evangeline chuckled, even as she wiped the blood that now trickled from her nostrils. Dean was pretty sure he broke her nose, but she didn't care at all. Full demon mode was as close to numb as you could come. She dug her fingernails into his face, but that was okay, as he was still on painkillers and it wasn't so bad. Besides, physical pain he could take. It was easier to deal with that than anything else. "This is why I like you, Dean. You don't know when you're beaten. But, to quote Monty Python, you don't know when you're winning either. You're as clueless as they come. How can you know so much and so little at the same time? It's so fun!"

"Eat me, bitch."

"Have you not been paying attention? You're not for eating. You're for the big show. Put on your pasties, darling, you're a star."

"As soon as I get the chance, I'm gonna destroy all of you."

She laughed, and stroked his face. "I love it! Keep stoking that hate. It'll feed Taraka so well."

What did he do? Except for using charms and a sigil he had no access to, there was no way to fight off a demon possession. If it was coming for Dean, he was doomed. All he could hope was it was exorcised from him before it killed him. Or used him to kill other people. Jesus. There were so many worse case scenarios here he didn't know which to fear most.

Her eyes were black and bright, almost aglow with joy. She was really getting off on his panic, his suffering, his fear. He felt tears threatening to come, but he swallowed them back. He wasn't giving her the satisfaction of that. What moves did he have here? Any? "Let Sam go, and I won't fight you."

She smirked. "Are you back to thinking this is a negotiation?"

"Every second Taraka is in me, I will be waiting for one weak second, one moment of distraction, so I can kill him. Look in my eyes and tell me I won't be." He stared at her for a quiet moment before going on. "Let Sam go, and I won't fight. I'll just let it happen."

She tapped her fingernails on the side of his face, still smirking. "Uh huh. You really think I'm gonna trust you?"

"Sam will be out there in the world, right? If I ever go back on this, he's a target and I know it. You want me to be a good dog? Do this. And I'll be the best damn dog you've ever had." Dean did his best to swallow back a lump in his throat, but he wasn't certain he'd managed. It still felt like he was choking on something. He was signing away everything, and he knew it. This was so much worse than death. He was giving his body and soul away to a demon. But he didn't have much choice here, did he? No matter how much he fought, if Taraka wanted to take him over, he would. Simple as that. Dean's wishes in this matter were irrelevant. He was already gone. All he could offer was his submission. It was the only card left to play. He held himself as still as possible, so she didn't realize he was trembling.

Evangeline was giving him that face splitting grin again, showing off her bright white teeth, which made an interesting contrast with her black eyes. "Ooh. You do know how to intrigue me. So let me get this straight. We let your mewling brat of a brother go, and you, what? Walk into the circle of your own free will?"

Knowing her, the circle was literal. Dean had to clench his jaw to keep him from cursing at her. He spit out the words like broken teeth. "I will do whatever you want. I won't fight you."

She rested her forehead against his. His skin crawled at the contact. "You'll be a willing servant of Taraka? And you won't keep whining like a little bitch?"

He was gritting his teeth so hard he was sure he was breaking a molar. "Yes."

She patted him on the head again. "Good boy. I like this idea a lot. Sam's kinda stringy anyway, not a lot of meat on those bones. He'd barely make an appetizer."

"He walks unharmed, and you never bother him again. We clear?"

"Crystal. And you're my happy little lapdog?"

"That's the deal."

"Let's make it official, shall we?" She pulled his hair, lifting his face up, and kissed him. He kissed her back, trying hard not to think about what he was doing.

Dean hoped his father and Sam forgave him one day. And he hoped they killed him quick.