**Okay! The next one is out! Tell me what you think of this! I spent all day on it, so I hope you guys like it. I put a couple of twists on this, so after this episode the season is going to get really interesting. I hope you all like the direction I've took. I really can't wait to write the next one! It is one of my favorite episodes! Please review or PM what you think about this! It's great to hear from people that love this story; it's what keeps me writing! Thanks so much for your support!**
Crossroad Blues
"So much for our low profile," I glanced across the table at Sam as he began to speak while looking at the computer screen with a troubled expression. "You got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the feds' database," He informed Dean, who took the news with an amused grin.
"Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something," He joked lightly, making me laugh before popping another fry into my mouth. We were sitting in a booth at some diner that we'd stopped at on our way to a hunt Sam had found. He'd been keeping tabs on the FBI databases, searching them for any mention of himself, Dean, or I since our last run in with the police.
"Dean, it's not funny," It was a little funny. "It makes the job harder. We got to be more careful now," He cautioned us, and I had to bite my lip to stifle a laugh.
"What do they have on you, Sammy?" I questioned innocently, suppressing a grin at his annoyed frown.
"I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet," He mumbled, typing away at his keyboard.
"Wait, no accessory, nothing?" Dean echoed, making Sam roll his eyes.
"Shut up," Sam muttered in annoyance as we laughed.
"Aw, Sammy's jealous," I teased him, earning a soft glare that he couldn't hold for long.
"Yeah, well, there's a mention of you in here," Both Dean and I stopped laughing abruptly as he said that. It hadn't been my intention to make any FBI wanted list. "It says he's suspected of traveling with a woman, and there's a sketch of you," He flipped the computer around, so Dean and I could clearly see the sketch of me. I frowned at the picture before glancing up at Sam, who was very obviously trying to fight a laugh. The sketch bore very little resemblance to me.
"Well, now we definitely have to lay low. She could be recognized at any moment," I elbowed Dean lightly at his quip, but that didn't stop him from laughing at the horrible sketch of me.
"Okay, what do you have on the case, you innocent, young man, you?" He glared at me, shutting his laptop and grabbing the newspaper, while Dean chuckled and ate another fry.
"Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home - a condominium he designed," Sam read off the page, his eyebrows raising at the last sentence.
"Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy," Dean commented, and I put down the fry that was in my hand, suddenly loosing my appetite.
"So, you said he called animal control?" I prompted, and Sam nodded.
"Two days earlier," Sam agreed.
"Did he actually say 'black dog'?" Dean checked, doubt lining his voice.
"Yeah. Vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, and no one else saw it. In fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman. Take the elevator up, and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls. He doesn't show up for work. Two days later, he takes a swan dive,"
"You don't think we're dealing with an actual black dog, right?" I already had some ideas regarding what we were actually dealing with.
"What's the lore on it?" Dean questioned before Sam could respond.
"It's all pretty vague," He answered, sifting through some papers he'd printed out at our last motel. "I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens," He handed me the papers, and I flipped through the drawings and pictures of giant black dogs looming over cowering people.
"Well, whatever it is, it's big…" I noted, passing one of the papers, that held a particularly gruesome looking animal, to Dean to look at.
"Yeah, bet they could hump the crap out of your leg," I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my lips at that. "Look at that one, huh?" He flipped the picture to show Sam, who was giving us a look that efficiently cut off my laugh. "What? They could," Sam just kept the same deadpan look on his face. This was going to be a long hunt.
"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Dean and I were standing by the table while Sam walked around with a notepad and pencil in his hand, looking around the spacious house.
"That's right. Now, one more time, this is for…" He trailed off, looking to Dean and I for an answer.
"We're making a tribute for Mr. Boyden in the Architectural Digest," I reminded him gently, and he chuckled in response, looking down at his feet. "Is something funny?" I questioned, making him shake his head.
"No, it - it's just a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind, but he gets another tribute," I was starting to think we should have gone with my original idea about just doing a piece on his death for the paper.
"Right," Sam agreed awkwardly, not really sure how to respond to that. "Any idea why he'd do such a thing?"
"I have no clue. He lived a charmed life," Something in the way the man phrased that caught my attention.
"What do you mean?" I asked, and the man's eyes moved from Sam to rest on me.
"He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but, next to him, uh…" He trailed off, shaking his head, and I could see the jealousy in his eyes just below the grief-stricken surface. "It wasn't always that way either," He continued hesitantly.
"No?" Dean prompted him to elaborate.
"You want to know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago, he was working as a bartender at this place called Lloyd's, a complete dive,"
"So, what changed?" Sam inquired, and the man shrugged.
"You got me, but overnight he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing - he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like the level of Van Gogh and Mozart. It…" He stopped abruptly.
"Yeah?" I urged him to continue.
"It's funny - true geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent, why… why just throw it away?" He glanced at each of us in turn, none of us having the answer he was looking for.
"Well, I think we have all we need. Thank you for your time," Sam gave us an exit, and we took it, leaving the house quickly. Our next stop was the animal hospital. I went in alone to get the information, leaving the boys waiting in the car for me. The man who worked the desk was named Nigel; it only took me a couple of minutes for me to get the information I needed and head back to the car, sliding into the passenger's seat.
"So?" Sammy asked from the back. I handed him the sheet that I'd had Nigel print out for me.
"That's every complaint call that they had in the last week regarding anything huge or black or doglike," I informed him without looking at the list as Dean pulled out of the parking lot. "There's nineteen calls,"
"What about this?" He flipped around the yellow post it note with a number scrawled across it.
"That's Nigel's phone number," I answered truthfully.
"Nigel?" Dean questioned, an edge to his voice.
"The secretary I talked to inside," I replied, smiling slightly as I buckled my seatbelt and intertwined my fingers through Dean's loosely. "We should start with the first name and work our way down," I got back to the job at hand, smiling again as I heard Sam's soft laugh from the back. It took two hours to go through almost all the names on the list; we just had the one we were standing in front of, a big, white house, and one that was five minutes away.
"I swear," Dean muttered as he rang the doorbell. "If this is another freakin' pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard…" I nudged Dean as the door opened to reveal a small, asian looking woman. "Afternoon, ma'am. Uh, animal control," Dean flashed his badge at her, ignoring her confused look.
"Uh, someone already came yesterday," She told us.
"We know, but it's routine to do a follow up, just to make sure they did a decent job. Is Dr. Sylvia Pearlman here?" She bit her lip, looking uncertain for a moment before moving out of the doorway and allowing us into the house.
"The doctor, well, she - I don't know exactly when she'll be back. She left two days ago," The woman explained to us, but I could here the hesitance and worry in her voice.
"Okay. And you are?" Sam questioned her.
"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid," The woman answered promptly.
"So, where did the doctor go?" Dean asked, and she gave a small shrug.
"I'm not sure. She just packed and went. She didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?" She asked us, and Sam shook his head, looking regretful.
"Not yet," I answered for him. "You never saw it yourself, did you?"
"Well, no. I never even heard it," She admitted. "I was almost starting to think the doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so…" The maid let the sentence hang, the implication clear.
"You know, I read she was the chief surgeon at the hospital," Dean spoke up from where he was looking at photos on the fridge. "So she's got to be, what, 42, 43? That's pretty young for that job,"
"Youngest in the history of the place," The maid nodded proudly. "She got the position ten years ago,"
"Ten years ago?" I repeated, some of the pieces starting to fall into place. "An overnight success,"
"Yeah, we know a guy like that," I glanced at Dean as he spoke with a grin. "Oh, look at this," He held up the photograph for Sam and I to see and then flipped it over. On the back it read: Lloyd's Bar, November 1996. "Lloyd's Bar,"
We drove out to Lloyd's bar, which happened to be a very small bar in the middle of nowhere. The perfect place for a supernatural breeding ground. Dean parked the car in the vacant lot that we all agreed had to be a parking lot. We began walking towards the bar, but something on the side of the road caught my eye, preventing me from walking further.
"Wait a second," I paused, making Dean stop with me, for he had an arm around my waist. "Look at that,"
"What?" Sam questioned as I regarded the flowers that grew on the edge of each of the four curbs.
"Did someone plant these?" I walked towards the curb and knelt in front of the yellow flowers. "With all these weeds around? They're yarrow flowers, right?"
"Yeah," Dean agreed, crouching down beside me. "Used for certain rituals,"
"Summoning rituals," I agreed, my brain racing to figure out what that could mean. I glanced around at the other curbs again to see that the same flowers also grew there.
"So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago, right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's," Dean caught on as we stood.
"And coincidentally, there just happens to be a crossroads here," I added, making Sam look at both of us deep in thought.
"You think?" He began.
"We could always find out," Dean walked to the car, grabbing a shovel out of the back while I headed to the center of the crossroads and turned around to face Sam. "That seem about dead center to you?" I asked him, moving to the side as Dean began to dig in the place I'd been standing. It only took a couple minutes till we heard the familiar clank of metal hitting metal.
"Yahtzee," Dean announced, glancing up at Sam and I before throwing down the shovel. I knelt down, scraping the rest of the dirt off the metal box and yanking it from the ground, opening it to reveal it's contents, which turned out to be mostly bones.
"I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt," Sam spoke up, holding the vial of dirt gingerly, so as not to drop it.
"It is," I responded, not sure how I knew, but knowing all the same. "And black cat bones," I added as Dean lifted the bones.
"That's serious spell work. I mean, that's deep south hoodoo stuff," For once, Dean's voice held no trace of his usual joking manner.
"Used to summon a demon," Sam agreed.
"No," I shook my head, looking up at the two boys. "Not just summon one, deal with one. Crossroads are known for being where pacts are made between demons and humans,"
"These people are actually making deals with the damned thing," Dean's voice started to gain an edge that I didn't like. "You know, cause that always ends good," He was beginning to get pissed off, and that never ended well for anyone.
"They're seeing dogs, all right…" Sam realized. "But not black dogs. They're seeing hellhounds - demonic pit bulls,"
"So, this demon is now back in town, and it's collecting it's payment," I put the final piece together. It was a crossroads demon. A deal maker. I tried in vain to stop my mind from roaming back to that day in the hospital. The day where I could've stopped John from making the deal.
"That doctor lady, wherever she's running, she ain't running fast enough," Dean spoke the truth. We couldn't save the doctor. She was going to die, if she wasn't dead already.
"So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right?" Sam asked, probably remembering something he'd read. "I mean, 'selling your should at the crossroads' kind of deal,"
"Sammy, that wasn't a legend," I informed him, letting out a slight, humorless laugh. "I mean, have you heard his music?" I glanced up at Sam to see him shrugging.
"You don't know Robert Johnson's songs?" Dean checked, sounding almost insulted.
"Okay, well, then, take my word for it, there's references all over his lyrics. Take 'Cross Road Blues', for instance, or 'Hellhound on my Trail'," Sam's face remained a question mark, making me roll my eyes a bit. "Remind me to introduce you to the blues music," I muttered, making his mouth twitch up into a brief smile.
"Story goes that he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs," Dean filled him in on the legend.
"And now it's happening all over again," Sam assessed, and Dean's arm tightened around my waist. He glanced at me briefly, but it was enough for me to know what he was thinking of. John. "We got to find out if anyone else struck any bargains around here,"
"Right, so, we got to clean up these people's mess for them? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced them to play 'let's make a deal'," He snapped darkly.
"So, what, we should just leave them to die?" Sam questioned, surprised at Dean's attitude.
"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in to try to save them?" He returned angrily.
"Dean," I spoke his name softly, efficiently cutting off his rant and making him turn to look at me. He must've seen something in my eyes, for he let out a heavy, defeated sigh, looking down.
"All right…Fine. Rituals like this, you got to put your own photo into the mix, right?" He held up the photo that was in the metal box. "So this guy probably summoned the thing. Let's see if anyone inside knows him… if he's still alive," He brushed past Sam, heading towards Lloyd's while I looked down at the ground, taking a shaky breath.
"You okay?" I glanced up to see Sam frowning at me in concern.
"Fine," I answered, forcing a smile. "We should probably follow him," I nodded after Dean, moving past Sam, but stopping as he grabbed my arm.
"You're sure you're okay?" My smile turned genuine as I saw the concern flooding his gaze. I pulled my grey jacket tighter around me as I realized how cold it really was.
"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" I almost laughed aloud at how many answers that question could have.
We pulled up in front of 2649 Barton Street. It was an apartment building that looked about the same as all the others in it's row. Nothing special. I studied it out the passenger's side, frowning at the bars that protected some of the windows.
"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked as we went inside and began ascending the steps to the second floor of the building; I had picked the lock to the front door.
"George Darrow. He's a regular at Lloyd's," I answered him, looking around at the disheveled building in slight disgust.
"This house probably ain't up next on 'MTV Cribs', is it?" My mouth twitched up in a smile as Dean read my mind.
"Yeah," Sam agreed with a small laugh. "So, whatever kind of deal he made…"
"It definitely wasn't for cash," I finished.
"Who knows? Maybe his place is full of babes in princess Leia bikinis," I turned my head to look at Dean with one eyebrow raised, and he quickly continued. "I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun," We walked up to the second floor and stopped in front of apartment 4C.
"Hey, check it out," I pointed to the ground where there was black dust that lined the bottom of the door. I knelt along with Dean to pick up some of the dust and rub it against my fingers.
"What is that pepper?" Dean mused, doing the same as I was doing. That was when the door opened to reveal a dark skinned man who looked back and forth between the three of us suspiciously.
"Who the hell are you?" The words were phrased as a question, but the man spoke it like an accusation.
"George Darrow?" Dean checked, and the man's face tightened.
"I'm not buying anything," The man stated abruptly, beginning to close the door.
"Whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker, there," Dean chuckled, glancing down at the dust that was lining the bottom of the door. "Usually, when you want to keep something evil out, you use salt," The man's eyes snapped from Dean to me to Sam and back.
"I don't know what you're talking about," He denied quickly.
"Talking about this," Dean held up his picture that we'd recovered from the metal box at the crossroads; the man's face went ashen. "Tell me… you seen that hellhound yet?"
"Look, we are here to help you," I tried to appeal to him instead of frightening him. "Just give us ten minutes," His eyes seemed to look right through mine and into my soul as he stared at me for a moment.
"Ten minutes," He finally conceded, moving out of the way to let us into the room, quickly shutting the door behind us.
"So, what is that stuff out front?" Sam asked curiously as the man poured himself a drink.
"Goofer dust," He responded as if the answer should have been obvious. "What, you three think you know something about something, but not Goofer dust?" He sneered, shaking his head while finishing his drink. Dean glanced at me and then Sam, not quite sure how to respond to that assessment. Before any of us could say anything, the man turned and tossed Dean a sack that was tied with a dark brown cord.
"Well, we know a little about a lot of things," Dean spoke, choosing his words carefully. "Just enough to make us dangerous," The man nodded, unthreatened by Dean's dark tone.
"What is it?" Sam questioned.
"Hoodoo," George answered honestly. "My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons,"
"Demons, we know," Dean told him, causing him to chuckle.
"Well, then, keep it," I took it from Dean's hands, running it over in my hands. "Maybe it'll do you some good." He walked over to the armchair that sat in the middle of the room and set his drink down on a table next to it. "Four minutes left," He announced, seemingly unconcerned.
"Mr. Darrow, we can help you get out of the trouble you're in," I began, but I could see he didn't believe me.
"Yeah, that you got yourself into," Dean added unhelpfully, causing both Sam and I to give him a look.
"She's right. It's not hopeless, all right? There's got to be something we can do," Sam came to my assistance as he addressed the man.
"Listen, I get that you three want to help, but sometimes a person makes their bed and they just got to lie down in it," He spoke calmly, sitting in the armchair and looking as content as any man I'd ever seen. "I'm the one that called that demon in the first place,"
"What'd you do it for?" Dean asked, and the man sighed heavily.
"I was weak," He admitted, unashamed. "I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just…" He sighed again. "I just never thought about the price,"
"Was it worth it?" Dean wondered, and I focused my attention on George, curious about his response.
"Hell, no. Course, I asked for talent. Should have gone for fame. I'm still broke… and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want, but that wasn't the worst," That caught my attention.
"What was?" I inquired, and he looked at me with an expression so tired and so lonely that I was sorry I'd asked.
"Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done. The damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week, just chatting, making more deals. I tried to warn folks, but who gonna listen to an old drunk?"
"How many others are there?" Sam questioned seriously.
"Uh, this architect, a doctor lady. I kept up with them. They been in the papers. At least they got famous," He bit out the last part bitterly, drinking some more of his whiskey.
"Anyone else? Come on, think," I tried, hoping that he'd remember at least one more.
"Oh, one more. Uh, nice guy, too. Hudson - Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for," He spoke the last sentences almost cheerfully.
"No, there has to be something," I tried, but the man shook his head emphatically.
"You don't get it," I frowned at him, not understanding. "I don't want a way,"
"Look, you don't-" Sam began.
"Look, I called that thing!" He shot to his feet, shaking his fist in the air. "I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off till then, buy a little time. Okay, time you three went. Go help somebody that wants help,"
"We're not going to just-" I began heatedly.
"Get out!" I flinched back."I got work to do," You should go. Dean will be waking up soon. John's voice rang in my ears as if he were right in front of me, telling me to leave him in the hospital basement.
"You don't really want to die," Sam tried to reason with the man, but he turned away again.
"I don't?" George turned to face us once again. "I'm tired," That was all he was going to say, and it left us no choice but to turn away and leave him alone. It didn't take us long to look up Evan Hudson and find his home address as well as his wife online. Dean parked in front of his house, and we got out, walking up to the front door. I stifled a yawn; it had been two days since we'd last slept, and it was beginning to wear on me.
"Yes?" I quickly focused on the job and studied the man that had opened the door.
"Evan Hudson?" Sam checked, sounding tired as well.
"Yeah," The man nodded.
"Do you remember going to a bar called Lloyd's?" I asked, cutting to the chase.
"It would have been about ten years ago," Dean added, and the man went ashen just as George had except he slammed the door in our faces and locked it. "Come on, we're not demons," Dean's yell did nothing to help our cause.
"Any other bright ideas?" Sam's voice dripped with sarcasm as he glared at Dean. I rolled my eyes, picking the lock expertly before pushing the door open and running into the house after Evan. I followed the sound of Evan's heavy breathing to a set of double doors that stood in the middle of the hall. Dean stood in front of them and raised his knee as if to kick it in.
"Wait!" I hissed, making him pause for a moment. I pushed on the knob and the door swung open without protest, allowing us to walk in cautiously.
"Evan?" I called, my eyes focusing on the bookshelf that I could hear him hiding behind.
"Please! Don't hurt me!" He yelled, coming out into the open with his hands in the air.
"We won't hurt you," I promised him, hoping he could hear the sincerity in my voice. "We're here to help,"
"We know all about the genius deal you made," Dean spoke sardonically to him.
"What? How?" He questioned, frowning suspiciously at us.
"Doesn't matter," Sam brushed off his paranoia. "All that matters is we're trying to stop it,"
"How do I know you're not lying?" He made a valid point.
"Well, you don't, but you're kind of running a little low on options, there, buddy boy," The man took a shaky breath, walking toward his desk, and seeming to be thinking it over.
"C-Can you stop it?" He asked, hope lining his voice.
"We can try," Was the best thing I could offer him.
"I don't want to die," He murmured, holding his head in his hands.
"Of course you don't. Not now," Dean began in a tone that told me only trouble could be ahead.
"Dean, stop," Sam tried in a quiet tone, but Dean didn't listen.
"What'd you ask for, anyway, Ev, huh? Never need viagra? Bowl a perfect game, what?" Evan glared at him, but there must have been something in Dean's expression that stopped him, for he looked down and sighed.
"My wife," I frowned, his tone telling me there was more to that story than just those two words.
"Right, getting the girl," Dean laughed humorlessly, causing anger to boil in my stomach. "That's worth a trip to hell for,"
"Dean," I snapped, efficiently cutting him off and causing him to look at me in surprise.
"No. He's right. I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm. That, uh, woman, or whatever she was, at the bar, she said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts, at first, but…" He trailed off, glancing away and then back. "I don't know. I was - I was desperate," I felt my heart drop as I realized what he meant.
"Desperate?" Sam echoed in confusion.
"She was dying," I realized, and even if he hadn't spoken, I could tell from his expression that I was right.
"Yes. Julie," He whispered, leaning on the desk.
"You did it to save her?" Dean's voice lost it's sarcastic sharpness.
"She had cancer. they had stopped treatment. They were moving her into hospice. They kept saying, 'matter of days'. So, yeah, I made the deal, and I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot," I swallowed hard. Sacrifice for love. We were no stranger to that.
"Did you ever think about her in all this?" Dean asked sharply, and I frowned glancing at him cautiously.
"I did this for her," Evan snapped back.
"You sure about that?" Dean returned, his voice gaining a darker tone as he stepped towards the shorter man. "I think you did it for yourself… so you wouldn't have to live without her. But, guess what, she's going to have to live without you now," Silence met Dean's words. "What if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?" I stepped forward, putting a hand on Dean's chest and pulling him back slightly.
"Dean," I was stunned to feel him actually shaking under my hand. "Come on," I pulled him away from Evan and Sam.
"Evan, sit tight, all right? We're gonna figure this out," I heard Sam say from behind me. I sure as hell hoped so. We had to save him. I had to save him. Dean and I exited the room, stopping just outside the doors.
"Are you okay?" I asked, worried about him.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" I bit my lip, studying his face for the honest answer to my question. "I'm fine," For a moment, his bravado act dropped, and I could see the uncertainty and fear. Then it was gone again. "I just don't see why we should risk our lives to save this guy when he tied the rope around his own neck. He was being selfish-"
"Selfish?" I cut him off, the anger returning. "Dean, he did it for love,"
"Love?" He spit out, all of a sudden sounding furious.
"Hey," Sam's voice interrupted us, cutting off whatever Dean was about to say.
"Hey," Dean responded, a cool mask of arrogance back in place. "I got an idea. You two throw George's hoodoo at that hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon,"
"What? Are you crazy?" I instantly protested against his idea. Even if Dean was in his right mind, which he wasn't, I still would've been skeptical of that plan.
"Maybe a little, but I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent," Dean argued.
"Yeah, but how much time?" My eyes turned to Sammy in surprise. Was he seriously considering this? Was I the only one who realized how stupid this plan was?
"I don't know. Awhile. It's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine," Dean pointed out, and I just frowned at him.
"No. Forget it," I objected without even having to think about it.
"Not allowed to say no unless you got a better plan, Mels," Dean told me, smiling slightly.
"I do, actually," He raised an eyebrow at me. "I'll go," I wasn't going to, but I wanted him to see how stupid and reckless his plan was.
"No," Dean shot down my idea without even stopping to consider it. "I'm doing it,"
"Dean, you can forget it, all right?" Sam came to my aid. "We're not letting you summon that demon,"
"Why not?" He asked.
"Because you're not thinking straight," I stated without any doubt at all.
"Oh, and you are?" I frowned at his retort.
"You've been on edge since we found out it was a crossroads demon," I knew I was right just by the look in his eyes.
"She's right. It's because of Dad," My heart froze at those words, and Dean's expression darkened considerably. "You think maybe Dad made one of those deals, huh? Hell, I've been thinking it," I could feel Dean's eyes on me, but I couldn't look at him. I couldn't look at anyone.
"It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. Yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal. My life for his soul," Silence met Dean's words. I had no response for him. What could I say?
"Hey! I think I hear it! It's outside!" Evan's voice called from inside.
"Just keep him alive, okay?" Dean ordered Sam, beginning to walk down the hall.
"I'm coming," I didn't phrase it as a question as I followed Dean
"Mel-" He began.
"I'm not letting you do this alone. Besides, you might need back up," I knew I was right, and he couldn't argue with me. A minute later, we were both in the car heading towards Lloyd's bar. I opened the glove compartment and rummaged through it for a moment before I found an old ID of Dean's. I cut it in half so just the picture was showing before placing the second half back in the glove compartment, closing it. He would use that for summoning the demon while I waited as backup. The car slowed, making me look up in surprise to see we were still about a minute or two walking distance from Lloyd's.
"Dean-" My confused question was abruptly cut off when Dean moved quickly, and there was the unmistakable metal snap. My eyes widened as he was out of the car in a heartbeat, slamming the door behind him. "Dean, what the hell are you doing?"
"I'm not going to loose you too," That made me even more scared and furious.
"You called Evan selfish," I tried as he got the duffel from the back and began to walk off. Those words stopped him cold. "You called Evan selfish when he tried to save his wife," Dean glanced back at me for a moment, and I met his eyes, willing him to rethink what he was doing.
"I guess I'm selfish too," And then he was gone.
"Damn it!" I slammed my hand against the steering wheel, yanking at the metal chain around my wrist. I couldn't believe he'd just done that. He had handcuffed me to the fucking steering wheel. I grabbed the lock pick set from my boot, but it was a hell of a lot harder to pick a lock with one hand than it was with two, not to mention the fact that my hands were shaking from fury as well as terror. That's when the radio turned on. Dean had taken the keys. "I am so screwed."
-3rd Person-
Dean stood, brushing the dust off of his hands and looking around. He'd just buried the metal box with his ID picture on it as well as the dark magic that was already in there. He focused only on the hunt; every time he let his mind drift he would see Mel's wide hazel eyes gazing at him with stunned betrayal written in them. Each time he saw them it was as if someone was stabbing him repeatedly through the heart. He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts. He had to focus on the job.
"Dean?" He whirled, and his eyes widened as he took in Mel standing fifteen or twenty feet away.
"Mel, how…" The rest of his sentence died as Mel laughed and shook her head, her eyes no longer a soft hazel but a blood red.
"Guess again, darling," She grinned, walking towards him slowly, and his jaw tightened in hatred. "It's adorable how you tried to protect her. Not sure she'll see it that way, though," The thing mused, glancing around the crossroads.
"Get out of her," Dean growled through his teeth, but the demon only chuckled.
"You called me, remember?" She reminded him, teasingly. He took a shaky breath before letting it out slowly. "Do you think she'd mind?" The demon turned to give Dean a full view of the woman she was wearing.
"You could say that," Dean answered tightly. She smiled widely, clearly enjoying his pain. She walked up to him, and his breathing quickened, making her smile again.
"You know, I know all about you, Dean Winchester," She tapped her head. "You really shouldn't sell yourself short, you know. You have no idea how much she loves you,"
"So you know who I am," It took every fiber of his being for Dean not to attack her, but if he hurt the demon, he'd hurt Mel. That was the only thing keeping him rooted to the spot.
"Even without Mel's brain," She tapped her head again, enjoying the way she could almost taste the fury coming off of him. "I get the newsletter,"
"Well, don't keep me in suspense," He took a step towards her, suddenly realizing how much taller he was than Mel. "What have you heard?"
"Well, I heard that you were handsome," She began, coming closer to him. "You're just edible. Mel's a lucky woman," She laughed evilly. "What can I do for you, Dean?"
"I was hoping we could strike a deal," Dean began heading towards the side of Lloyd's, leaving the demon no choice but to follow him.
"That's what I do," She answered coyly.
"I want Evan Hudson released from his contract," He stated, and she let out a thoughtful noise.
"So sorry, Darling. That's not negotiable," Dean almost couldn't get the next words to come out of his mouth, and he dug his fingernails into his palm.
"I'll make it worth your while," He told her, and she chuckled softly.
"Oh, really? What are you offering?" She questioned, interested.
"Me," He'd worked this part out with Mel in the car. Of course, in the version they'd discussed, she was in the woods with holy water and salt, not talking to him with a freaking demon inside her.
"Well, well, well," The demon murmured as they came to a stop by Lloyd's. Only a lithe farther and she'd be walking right into a devil's trap. "You'd sacrifice your life for someone else's. Like father, like son. You did know about your dad's deal, right?" She spoke softly as she came towards him. "His life for yours. Oh, I didn't make the deal myself, but, boy, I wish I had," He clenched his teeth together as he took another step back, but before she could take one forward, she happened to glance at the ground. Her expression turned harsh and furious. Dean's mind suddenly flashed back to a fight him and Mel had had. He'd told her she looked beautiful when she was angry. She had told him to hang onto his seat because she was about to become gorgeous.
"A devil's trap?" He was forcefully pulled into reality by the demon's snap. "You've got to be kidding me," She took a step back from the white devil's trap that he'd painted in the ground. Suddenly she hissed, shutting her eyes tightly for a moment before opening them, revealing scarlet red orbs. "You stupid, stupid… I should rip you limb from limb." She growled at him as he began retreating in another direction with her following, glowering.
"Take your best shot," He taunted her.
"No, I don't think so. I'm not gonna put you out of your misery," His back hit the wooden pole of a water tower.
"Yeah? Why not?" He questioned her, trying to keep her talking.
"Cause your misery is the whole point. It's too much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul. I mean, that's got to hurt," She let out a short laugh, coming towards him. "I know it hurts," She tapped her head again. "Lovely Mel knows it hurts. You think she can't see you, but she can. She knows he's all you ever think about. She wakes up, and she sees you coming out of the bathroom or doing research or eating breakfast, you know, while you're thinking 'I can't do this anymore', and she knows you're all lit up with pain. I mean, how could you not be? You loved him so much, and it's all your fault," She laughed evilly as he clenched his jaw tighter. "You blew it, Dean. I could have given you what you need. What you both need,"
"What do I need?" He asked almost before she was done speaking.
"Your father," She suddenly squeezed her eyes shut again, taking a step back and putting a hand to her head before opening her scarlet eyes. "I could have brought him back. Your loss. I wish you a nice, long life," She took a step backwards, smiling. "Oh, and, good luck finding the love of your life," She let out a mocking laugh as she gestured to Mel's body. She whirled, and Dean had to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying anything until she was past the water tower.
"Hold on," He called, and she stopped but didn't turn. He moved around the water tower, looking away from her.
"You're lucky I've got a soft spot for lost puppies and long faces. I just can't leave you like this," She sighed dramatically. "Besides, you didn't call me here to bargain for Evan. Not really,"
"Can you bring him back, my dad?" He questioned, half of his mind screaming at him to do it.
"Of course I can, just as he was. Your dad would live a long, natural life, like he was meant to. That's a promise," She smiled winningly at him. Mel's smile.
"What about me?" He questioned the demon.
"I could give you ten years," It told him. "Ten long, good years with him. That's a lifetime. The family could be together again - John, Dean, Sammy. The Winchester boys all reunited. And Mel, of course. I'm sorry to loose her, but she's all yours once we're through," She walked towards him slowly. "Look, your dad is supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So, we'll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order, and you get ten extra years on top along with your girlfriend. That's a bonus," Dean turned, pretending to think, and walked a few steps away.
"You think you could…" He hesitated a moment before turning. "Throw in a set of steak knives?" She just laughed, glancing at the ground for a moment before coming towards him.
"You know, this smartass self defense mechanism of yours-" She cut off as she hit an invisible wall. Suddenly, her confident, smug face was gone replaced by a furious, annoyed face as she rolled her eyes skyward to see the devil trap Dean had drawn as a plan B. "Dean…" She began warningly.
"Now you're really trapped. That's got to hurt," He taunted her.
"Let me out now," She snapped at him, not caring if he saw how pissed she was anymore.
"Sure," He agreed readily.
"We just got to make a little deal here first. You call off your hellhound and let Evan go. Then I'll let you go. Then you'll get out of Mel," He laid out the deal for her.
"I can't break a binding contract," She told him.
"And by 'can't' you mean 'don't want to'?" He questioned, knowing there was no way he was letting the bitch possessing his girlfriend walk out of this unharmed. "Last chance. Evan and his wife get to live to a ripe old age. Mel gets to be free. Going… going…"
"Let's talk about this," She tried, and he just shrugged.
"Okay, gone," He brought out the book and opened it to the marked page.
"What are you doing?" Her voice held a note of fear in it as he held up the cross.
"Oh, you're just gonna go on a little trip way down south," He grinned as he looked down at the page.
"Look, forget Evan. Think of your dad. Of Mel. People don't always survive exorcisms," She tried, but Dean didn't listen to her. The only people who didn't survive an exorcism this cut and dry were people with heart problems or something of the sort. He'd read up on it.
"Regna terrae, cantate deo, psallite domino qui fertur super caelum caeli ad orientem," She began to shudder, but he didn't stop. "Qui fertur super caelum caeli ad orientem ecce dabit vocem suam, vocem virtutis,"
"Wait!" He paused at the demon's shout. The demon came towards him and grabbed his face in her hands, kissing him harshly before pushing him back.
"What the hell was that for?" He asked, frowning at her.
"Sealing the deal," She answered.
"I usually like to be warned before I'm violated with demon tongue," He shot back.
"It's not like you haven't kissed her before," Dean didn't respond, instead choosing to glance away from her. "You could tell the difference. That's sweet. Evan Hudson is free. He and his wife will live long lives,"
"How do I know you're not lying?" Dean questioned.
"My word is my bond," She replied evenly.
"Oh, really?" He asked dubiously.
"It is when I make a deal. It's the rules," Ironically, it was her bitter tone that convinced Dean she was telling the truth. "You got what you wanted, now let me go," He stepped back, looking back down at the book and holding up the crucifix. He couldn't take any chance with Mel's life. "You're gonna double-cross me? Funny, how I'm the trustworthy one. You know, I get why you're doing it," She gestured down at herself. "But, you renege, send me to hell, sooner or later, I'm gonna climb back out, and skinning Evan Hudson and Melody Scott will be the first thing I do. You want to save your girlfriend? The best way to do that is to let me go," Dean thought about it for a moment before climbing the water tower and unhinging the latch, breaking the devil's trap. She turned to face him after having walked out from under the trap. "I got to tell you, you would have never pulled that stunt if you knew,"
"Knew what?" Dean questioned warily.
"Where your dad is," His heart clenched at her words. "You should have made that deal. See, people talk about hell, but it's just a word. Doesn't even come close to describing the real thing,"
"Shut you mouth, bitch," Dean spoke, a threat in his voice while he glared at the thing.
"That's not a very nice thing to say to your girlfriend," She let out another laugh. "If you could see your poor daddy, hear the sounds he makes 'cause he can't even scream,"
"How about I send you back there," Dean growled, taking a step towards her. Mel's head tilted back and black smoke poured out of her and into the night sky. Abruptly it stopped. Dean lunged forward to catch her as she fell, slowly lowering her to the ground and propping her up against the wooden pole of the water tower.
"Dean," Mel breathed out as he held her face in his hands gently.
"Yeah, baby, I'm here," He could barely speak through the guilt and relief that threatened to consume him. "I'm so sorry, Mels,"
"Never handcuff me to the steering wheel again," She managed a small glare, but he ignored it, pressing his lips to hers.
"Okay, next time you can handcuff me," She laughed. Her laugh was different to the one the demon had used. Hers was softer, more beautiful. It made him kiss her again This time she brought her hand up to tangle in his short hair while the other rested on the side of his face gently.
-1st Person-
"Demons lie all the time, right?" Sam spoke, breaking the silence that had ensued since we'd finished telling him our story. Neither Dean nor I made any attempt to answer him; Dean kept his eyes firmly on the road while I stared out the window at the dark forest we were passing through. "Maybe she was lying,"
"Come on. Is that really what you think?" Sam didn't reply to Dean's words. I didn't either. Truthfully, right now, all I wanted to do was sleep, but every time I closed my eyes, I was back at Lloyd's, not able to control my body. I remembered everything. Every, last thing that happened. "How could he do it?" Dean's words snapped me back into reality.
"He did it to protect you," I answered him softly, making him glance at me in the rearview.
"Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that?" I had no answer to that question, so I just stayed quiet. "You know, the thought of him, wherever he is right now… I mean, he spent his whole life chasing that yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy, you know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this,"
"How many people do you think dad saved total?" Sam wondered, and I glanced at him.
"That's not the point," Dean protested quietly.
"Evan Hudson is safe because of what dad taught us. That's his legacy, Dean," Sam told him, and I glanced in the rearview to see Dean's eyes were hard. "Now, we're still here - me, you and Mel - so we got to keep going, for him,"
"Dean?" I began, hesitating. Not sure if I even wanted to know the answer.
"Yeah?" He answered, glancing at the rearview to meet my eyes.
"When you were with the demon, you didn't… you weren't considering make a deal, right? For John," Dean just turned up the rock music and kept driving, giving me all the answer I needed. It was a short drive to the motel after that, and I didn't waste any time grabbing my duffel bag and heading inside the motel. We bought two rooms, and Dean and I threw our stuff down in one while Sam headed to the other.
"He did," I broke the silence with those words, causing Dean to glance at me while he was rinsing his mouth. "Your dad," He came out of the bathroom with a hard expression. "He did go down fighting. If the demon had killed you, it would have torn all of us apart. John prevented the demon from winning. He did go down fighting," Dean pressed his lips against mine softly, but I pulled away. "Dean, what did he say to you?" Dean jerked back as if I'd struck him.
"What're you talking about?" I could hear the lie in his voice as he asked the question.
"You've been acting weird ever since he died. Not just weird about him," I rushed my words, preventing him from cutting in. "Dean, I love you, and whatever it is, I'll help, but I need to know what's going on. If you're going to keep trying to keep me away from danger, I deserve to know why,"
"Mel, before… before dad died," Dean looked away from me but continued. "He told me that I had to protect you and Sam," I frowned slightly, not understanding the big deal about that. Then, he met my gaze, and I could clearly see the pain and horror in his green eyes. "But if I couldn't do that… if I couldn't protect you, then I'd have to kill you."