Dean stared at Victoria for at least a minute in dumbstruck silence. He felt like he was doing his best goldfish impression, but he simply couldn't help it.
"Kali?" He repeated slowly, just in case by some miracle he had misheard her.
"Yes…my request wasn't what you'd call…benevolent." Victoria replied tentatively, visibly flinching when Sam snorted. Even Dean chuckled slightly under his breath.
"Of course, 'cause decapitation is the ultimate display of God's eternal love." Sam remarked, smirking before Dean elbowed him in the ribs.
"Please just leave me alone, it's done now and you are being rude and unhelpful!" She cried in exasperation, in a way that only a middle class housewife could in the horror of her situation. Dean bit his lip to prevent an outburst of laughter; an outburst of anger seemed just as likely. Did this woman not understand that someone had died? Hell, more people could die,yet the Winchesters' lack of manners seemed to be the worst of her problems. Dean cut Sam off the moment he opened his mouth.
"Listen here, because I'm only gonna say this once. Your life and possibly your soul belong to one scary-ass mother, so you are therefore no longer our greatest priority. Look, we get it, okay? You were desperate and law enforcement wasn't doing shit for you, but you gotta understand that this was a terrible deal. I'm not so sure that we can help you out here; this is no simple demon deal, lady." Tears began to fall thick and fast from Victoria's glistening and guilt racked eyes, making Dean's stomach contract painfully. In an effort to provide a shred of comfort, he placed a hand awkwardly on her shoulder, earning him a confused glare from Sam. Dean let his hand drop and instead endeavoured to cheer her up in the only way he knew.
"Have you still got the book? If we can summon her here, we might be able to deal with her." Victoria brightened considerably, a spark of hope igniting in her dead eyes. Sam simply focused his glare further, fixing Dean with a look of utter defiance. "Could you…err… excuse us for a moment, Victoria?" Dean asked, taking his eyes off Sam for only a fraction of a second to avoid immediate smiting. She nodded and scurried away, leaving only the sound of her heels echoing off the laminate flooring to add a harsh sound to Sam's insistent glare. The moment the sound faded away, Sam jumped up from the sofa and exploded.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! HAS A YEAR AWAY FROM HUNTING STOPPED YOU FROM HAVING A SINGLE RATIONAL THOUGHT? THIS GODESS IS FULLY CAPABLE OF RIPPING OUR GUTS OUT AND STEWING THEM, AND YOU WANT FACE TIME?" Dean stayed quiet, leaning back slightly to avoid the full force of Sam's outburst.
"Hey, you're the super-efficient, super-reckless hunter with no soul or fear. I thought you'd like this plan?" Sam narrowed his eyes coldly, evidently using all of the non-verbal intimidation tactics in his arsenal, before replying.
"Self-preservation, Dean." Dean responded with a simple shrug and the most shit-eating grin he could muster to really piss Sam off, then held his breath, waiting as his brother's shell considered him and praying for an outcome that allowed him to keep his faculties. After a long and uncomfortable pause, Sam sat back down in silence just as Victoria returned clutching a small, black, leather-bound tome that didn't look dark or dangerous at all.
"So this is the Hindu book of death and destruction?" Sam asked helpfully. Victoria nodded curtly to him, but handed Dean the book.
"We'll take this with us and we'll try to get you out of this, okay? If you need anything, call this number." Dean told her, putting the book down momentarily to write the number on her hand.
Victoria looked considerably happier by the time she waved them off, clearly a lot more hopeful than Dean, who was now experiencing the death glare of his 6'4" brother with no boundaries, and a serious case of cold feet as he drove back to their motel to investigate the summoning of a violent goddess they saved once on an exceptional occasion. What could possibly go wrong here? Sam's sour mood still radiated from him like stifling, stale air as they got into the motel room. The door swung shut with a disturbing rattle and bounced open again almost immediately, leading to a good 15 minute struggle between Dean and the door that wouldn't fucking close. When the latch finally caught, Dean apprehensively turned to face Sam who stood holding the book of regret.
"So are we gonna talk about this or are you gonna hit me?" Dean snatched the book out of the air just before it made impact with his face. Wrinkling his nose slightly to dissipate the tickling sensation from the dust particles currently inhabiting his nostrils, Dean flipped through the wrinkled pages until he found a very morbid looking page infested with symbols and the most delightful artwork of severed heads. A tentative stroke of one symbol made Dean's stomach churn uncontrollably.
"These are written in blood." Dean felt even sicker when Sam seemed wholly unsurprised.
"Dean, we hunt monsters for a living, please don't say you're freaked by a bit of blood."
"Touché. Well, it's time to beam this bitch down. Which I guess you're scarily okay with." Sam shrugged and sat on the bed, which protested with an unnerving creak.
"Well we've killed pagans before; I guess it's just another monster. Let's just summon her and get it over with." A smug grin fought its way onto Dean's features as he turned away to avoid any immediate violence on his soulless brother's part. It turned out that the summoning ritual was morally complex at best (downright disgusting at worst), requiring ingredients that turned Dean's stomach and reminded him of just how much he hated pagan gods.
"We are not using a pregnant woman's skull, this ritual can crawl straight back into Saw or wherever the hell it came from" Sam regarded him for a moment, his mouth pressed into a fixed line as though deep in thought. Deep in thought was never a good sign with this particular overgrown Vulcan. When he finally spoke, his tone was much softer than Dean had come to expect, probably an attempt to persuade Dean into some horrible idea.
"What else can we do? This is the summoning ritual." Sudden realisation hit Dean like an angel's punch to the jaw.
"No it's not." He sang smugly, "Victoria summoned Kali, and I seriously doubt she had a pregnant woman's skull on hand." Samatron 3000 was probably disappointed that he couldn't hack into some poor knocked up chick like the evil son of a bitch he was, but Dean could rest assured that he was going to weasel the truth out of Victoria. He was tired of lies.
Sam should probably claim one of these seats permanently, he thought to himself as he sat on the familiarly immaculate couch. He'd probably sat on this couch more than the musty motel bed and, to be completely honest, it was more comfortable, albeit a little stiff. The whole scene before him seemed drawn from memory, more identical than even déjà vu could appear, with Victoria perched once again on the metal arm of a white chair while Dean and Sam took the couch. Though the tension wrought in Dean's muscles and the minute tremblings of a woman who had obviously noticed betrayed the meeting as entirely disparate. Sam flexed his fingers contentedly, waiting for a violent eruption from Dean or any other indication that Sam could get the truth they needed without irritating repercussions from Dean. Judging from the heavy silence broken only by the older brother's occasional teeth grinding, Dean had finally had enough of her lies.
"So… what is this about?" Victoria was the first to speak; her voice seemed higher in pitch every time Sam saw her, although he could hardly judge her for being nervous under the death stare of his older brother. Dean leaned forward while Sam simply smirked as he waiting for hell to unfold. He was not disappointed.
"Cut the crap, Victoria! You've done nothing but lie straight to our faces from the moment we said hello. Why did you give us this book when you never even used it?" The effect of Dean's words was instantaneous. Victoria's trembling ceased, the quivering pools in her eyes dried and Victoria, the terrified and desperate woman terrorised by her husband, slipped away as rapidly and seamlessly as a mask falling from her face. Shoulders stiffening as she drew herself up, the new and much more interesting Victoria smirked.
"I was wondering when you'd catch my little red herring." She drawled, her voice cold and absent of all traces of emotion. Sam mirrored her smirk with smug satisfaction; wheedling answers out of her now would be all too enjoyable. Dean seemed less than thrilled with the developments, standing slowly as his hand twitched above where Sam knew his favourite gun was concealed. Any surprise he may have been feeling was gone, and Sam simply waited in self-satisfaction for his turn.
"I'm tired of games. Your whole 'defend me' act was convincing, I'll grant you. It's over now. What are you, really?" Dean asked, his voice soft and steady. Sam knew that he was probably a second away from shooting her. Victoria was unperturbed, merely slipping off the arm to settle back in the stiff chair.
"Oh sweetie, sorry to be a disappointment, but I'm human. Just a better version of myself. Victoria 2.0." Her sneer was far too sweet, and Sam thought that the smell of bleach in her house likely mimicked her soul. Her soul? Everything snapped into place like an elastic band. Sam rose slowly, stepping beside Dean to loom over Victoria.
"So when you sold your soul to Kali, how long did she give you?" He asked, conjuring just enough sweetness to lace his voice with it. For what was likely the first time, genuine confusion coloured her features.
"How…long?" She replied, cocking her head slightly. The resemblance to Castiel was briefly blinding. With every word she spoke, Sam's confidence grew.
"Until your soul becomes Kali's, the hard way." There was no reply; Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he turned to stare at Sam. "Or maybe it already is hers. Pagans don't work the same way as demons, right? What's to stop her ripping your soul right out and leaving you behind?" Eyes widening comically, Dean fixed Victoria with an incredulous stare.
"So…you're soulless?! That explains the whole bitchy attitude disorder, but what's with the wild goose chase? If we find Kali, you can have your soul back and your husband stays dead."
"I don't want that decrepit thing back" Victoria spat "it made me weak. Kali helped me, she made me strong. I was such a pitiful thing…unable to stand up to that brute; now he's gone and I am the most alive I have ever been! Then you two turned up and started sniffing around. Kali came to me, told me to keep you off her trail until she could deal with you." Sam tensed, fingering the hilt of Ruby's knife as he scanned the room suspiciously for any evidence that Kali could be stalking them.
"Then why are you spilling your guts now?" Dean inquired, but Sam already knew the answer.
"She's done avoiding you now." A flash of light obscured Sam's vision as he was thrown into a china cabinet, feeling glass slice through his flannel and into his back; all he could do was squeeze his eyes shut as it rained sharp shards. Shaking off the debris, Sam rose to see a furious Kali standing in the middle of a decimated living room. Victoria was nowhere to be found.
"I never wanted it to come to this, you did save my life." Fire swallowed her arms and was reflected in her golden breastplate, it seemed as if her entire being was consumed by fiery fury. For the first time since hell, fear coursed through Sam's very veins. Kali's skin glowed in the firelight in a blue sheen as she approached him and Dean, who was worryingly still beside him. Sam glanced around for any form of weapon, resorting to a slightly large shard of glass he found embedded in his back. He swung it in a fruitless display of threat before she flung him aside with a flick of her wrist. The wind was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the back wall and he struggled to get back on his feet. Gasping for air, Sam braced himself for the burn that was sure to come. Instead, a resounding crash that shattered the very foundations of the suburban home rang in his ears. Before him, Castiel stood tense in a battle crouch, his angel blade glinting in the flames. His trenchcoat flared out behind him like tail feathers as he launched the blade with deadly precision into Kali's shoulder. She hissed in pain just as Castiel noticed Sam on the floor and frowned in confusion, despite the carnage around him.
"Sam? What are you…?" He trailed off as he noticed Dean's motionless form. He always did have a hard time focusing on anything else. Flames singed Castiel's chest as Kali recovered with a vengeance and a handful of fire.
"Now I have you, ange-" Kali was cut off abruptly by the sudden appearance and consequential disappearance of Balthazar, who whisked her off to god-knows-where. Castiel hastily tapped Dean's forehead and disappeared, sparing Sam no parting glance. Sam stared at the spot previously occupied by a pissed of Goddess and a smarmy angel until a sharp intake of breath beside him drew his attention and Dean offered his eloquent and omniscient view of the situation.
"What the fuck just happened?