Episode 6 – Mami Wata

Summary: A man who had it all commits suicide after he lost his job, his house suffered extensive water damage and a snake bit his sister. Nothing too suspicious, if it weren't for the three other mysterious occurrences that have happened in the same area.

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for all the positivity I've received for this fic :)

Slight warning for dub-con-ish situation (a demon groping Dean a bit, but nothing major… Yet if the topic's risky for you, read with caution).

For those of you who might consider this a "filler" – don't judge it too quickly … This chapter is actually of paramount importance to a certain part of the plot arch. *insert-mysterious-laughter-here*

Never let it be said you don't learn anything in university^^ Mami Wata, who inspired the title of this chapter, is an actual thing – I'll put some links in the end notes for those of you who are interested.

xXx

Salt Lake City, two years ago

It's Rob's first week at the new firm and his colleagues dragged him with them for a few beers and a good time. Rob didn't have the courage to tell them he's not exactly liquid enough to buy drinks, crippled from student loans and debts his parents left him, so here he is.

Friday night, some fancy bar where the coasters bear the establishment's logo because when you're doing well at the firm, spending fifty bucks a night or more won't hurt your wallet.

"Ohhhh, looks like someone's checking you out," one of the guys, Stevie maybe, says, leaning close to Rob and pointing towards the bar. "You should go after that one!"

Rob swallows thickly. The woman is gorgeous – tall, dark skinned with curly hair, her body clad in a fitting red and white dress with matching red heels. Not wanting to show any weakness in front of his new colleagues, Rob pushes his chair back and struts over, trying to be casual about his approach and probably failing miserably.

Yet the woman's smile doesn't falter, not even when he leans close, noticing her snake-shaped earrings.

"I'd really like to buy you a drink but I'm afraid that would mean I'll have to live off ramen noodles for the rest of the month."

To outsiders, it would look like he tried and she turned him down. It's a good plan.

At least until she catches him by the tie and doesn't let him lean back.

"Then why don't you just take me home?" she purrs and the velvety quality of her voice is enough to send shivers down Rob's spine.

They are out of the bar immediately, kissing in the cab she pays for with bills out of her thick purse. Fortunately, Rob's apartment looks presentable – not that they notice much of their surroundings as they practically fall through the front door.

He's always been more of the 'making love' kind of guy but something about this woman just… sets him on fire.

When he wakes the next morning, his bed is empty and she left neither her name nor her phone number. Rob tries to shrug it off but his thoughts circle back to her all day as he goes about his Saturday routine, finally returning to his apartment.

After he closes the front door behind him and turns around to put the groceries away, his eyes fall on the bed.

She's sitting there.

"What -?" he begins, but she shushes him.

"I'm no regular woman," she says. "I can bring you great fortune. Your life will improve tenfold."

Rob is gaping gracelessly. He has no idea what she's saying, only that he somehow believes every word of it.

"I only ask one thing in return. Do it and you shall find wealth and success."

"Anything," Rob finally manages. "I'll do anything."

"Remain faithful to me. I am the only woman you shall love from this moment on. Keep your vow and everything shall be well. Break it and misfortune will rain upon you."

"I swear. I'll stay faithful."

Smiling, she leans in for a kiss. When Rob opens his eyes again, she has vanished, leaving Rob to wonder whether she was just a dream.

xXx

It's early morning when Dean ventures into the library, searching for Sammy's laptop. He passes Kevin who's engrossed in the tablet like always and finally spies the thing he's looking for on the map table.

He intends to grab it – only to find he can't 'cause the laptop's been placed inside a goddamn devil's trap.

Dean curses under his breath, then turns his most charming smile on Kevin.

"Hey, Kevin, you think you could help me out –"

"Sam said no, Dean."

"But why?" Dean whines. He needs to scratch an itch and he really can't do that without the laptop.

"Sam said no more watching porn on his computer."

"Come on, man, where's your empathy?"

"I won't help you, sorry."

Dean punches the air in frustration just as he hears a key in the front door, announcing Sam's return from his freakishly early morning run.

"Brother!" Dean smiles, opening his arms.

Too bad that said brother sees right through him. "Forget it, Dean! I've barely restored it to how it was before you let it get infected with the last virus. I don't need that again."

"Dude, a guy has needs!"

"Yeah, and I need to do some research."

"We've been sitting on our asses for three days; what sorta research do you got?"

"I'm working on something. Ask me again after breakfast."

"Whatever man, I'm taking a shower," Dean grumbles and walks towards the bathroom. "A long one!" he calls out and the annoyed groans he elicits from both Sam and Kevin almost manage to cheer him up.

xXx

"Have a good shower?" Sam asks pointedly when Dean returns half an hour later, hair still damp.

"Oh, it was awesome. The water pressure here is just incredible and did you know you could alter it so that it feels like –"

"Unless we have bleach somewhere, don't you dare finish that sentence."

"Sammy, you're no fun."

"At least I found us another case. Salt Lake City." With that Sam spins the laptop around and dives into his findings. "The first thing I saw was a man who killed himself after he lost his job, his house suffered intense water damage and his sister landed in hospital because of a snake bite."

"I take that it wasn't any snake you'd expect to find anywhere near that area?"

Sam shakes his head. "And I dug deeper and all sorts of strange things've been happening all around the city. The yacht club lost half their boats in a storm, a completely nameless actor lands a part in a national television show and get this: This guy," Sam draws up a picture of a decidedly handsome young man, "became Mr. Utah last months after looking like this until last summer."

It's like some scary version of one of those before-after shows on TV. The guy was nothing special with a bad case of acne and now he's all but smoking hot.

"What the fuck?" Dean clicks through the rest of the tabs Sam has open, mostly weather maps confirming that the storm that destroyed the boats came out of nowhere.

"I don't know, man, but something's up."

"Well, what're we waiting for? Come on."

Sam, however, spares a worried glance for Kevin.

"I'll be fine, guys." They jerk around to where Kevin is still sitting, apparently listening avidly to their conversation. "If anything comes up I can always call Castiel or Gabriel."

Right, Gabriel, who's finding a temporary home for the snake and an adequate punishment for Khaled. And Cas, who Dean's definitely not thinking about right now.

It takes some time but eventually, Sam nods and they're packing their bags and heading out to the Impala. It's a thirteen-hour drive and maybe they'll make it there before nightfall.

xXx

They don't make it, not that Sam minds too much. They book themselves into a cheap motel near the city center like always and decide to check out the yacht club.

The damage is still extensive; moon light illuminating broken piers and splintered boats behind barriers that mean nothing to the Winchesters. The strangest thing is that the storm didn't concentrate on one part of the harbor but seemingly targeted certain boats.

"Whatever did this had something against these owners, I'd say," Sam concludes as they make their way back to the hotel.

"Yeah, well you go ahead, I'll stay out a bit, questioning the locals, things like that," Dean replies off-handedly but Sam's heard that tone often enough to call bullshit.

"Questioning the locals?" he mocks. "That's what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Screw you, man, you're the one who took away my laptop privileges."

Sam chuckles but waves his brother goodbye.

xXx

Dean spies a bar a few houses down the road and glances around, wondering if anyone will notice him zapping to the block, until he literally runs into someone.

"Easy there, tiger:" He knows that British drawl all too well.

"What do you want, Crowley?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I confuse you with the other Knight of Hell who owes me training sessions?"

Dean grumbles, flexing his hand. "I'm busy."

Crowley, as if he knew exactly what Dean was trying to do, looks over his shoulder. "Please, you'll get more satisfaction from fighting with the five potential members of my shiny new army than from a meaningless tumble between the sheets."

"I doubt that."

"What's it been since you killed my guards and tortured the other one? Three days? By tomorrow you'll be itching for blood, mark my words."

Dean glances from the demon to the bar back to the King of Hell. "So we pretending I got a choice in this or what?"

"No," Crowley sneers and grabs his shoulder to teleport him off.

xXx

If Dean seems more relaxed the following day, Sam doesn't call attention to it, even though Sam's smirking inwardly as he inspects Robert Cox living room.

The man has done well for himself – started working at the accounting firm two years ago several thousand dollars in debt, owned his own house with flat screens and a whirlpool a year later.

"This thing reeks of Crossroad Demon," Dean say as he sweeps the EMF meter over the walls.

"You think he killed himself when he saw the hellhounds come?"

"Wouldn't be the first guy to shit himself."

"Doesn't explain the boats, though. And the snake bite, and his water damage," Sam argues, kicking at a bloated book. The official story is that a pipe broke above the living room, causing the ceiling to collapse and the house to flood. Robert Cox lost everything because there was an alleged mistake on his insurance application.

However, the pipes were brand new, seeing as the house had been renovated top to bottom before Rob bought it.

"So no easy solution, don't we love our jobs," Dean quips a moment before the EMF meter spikes.

"What is it?"

"Business card."

Dean hands it over and Sam turns it around. While everything else in the house bears the marks of the water damage, the card is in pristine condition. Not a drop of anything has touched it and both of them exchange meaningful looks.

Yoofi Nkrumah, Professor of African Religious Studies.

xXx

Gavin gazes after the stranger as the bloke heads towards the bar and waves the barman over.

He is taller than Gavin, lean and tough looking, more like those folks Gavin is owing money to. By his luck, the lad will be just as big a wanker as them and kick a beaten lad when he's down.

"Here you go."

Two pints are placed on the table of the corner booth where Gavin has been hiding. Dark shirt, dark pants, nothing too fancy but not ragged either. It's hard to make heads or tails of this bloke, with his short blond hair and blue eyes.

"I'm Merrick."

"Gavin."

"You shouldn't be telling strangers your name, Gavin."

"You just told me yours, mate."

"Have you learnt nothing ever since you reached this century?" Merrick asks and Gavin promptly chokes on the sip of beer he took.

He can feel the colour draining from his face as he gapes at the man. How -?

"Relax, I don't mean any harm. In fact, I'm here because we have a common enemy."

"Who?" Gavin manages. If this Merrick knows where he's from, he's probably a demon or some other supernatural creature that Gavin has managed to avoid so far.

"Your father."

"How do ya know about me Dad?"

"I have my sources."

"What's he done to ya?" he can't help but ask. He's curious.

"He broke a promise." He doesn't say more.

"Why do ya think he did me wrong at all? For all ya know we get along perfectly fine, eh?"

Merrick snorts, taking another sip from his pint. "You're a poor sod who's down on his luck, haven't seen a shower in a few days or a washing saloon either for that matter. Now, I know your father personally. He has power. He has the means to help, so he must have chosen not to use them. Probably expected you to perish a few weeks into your arrival in the new millennium."

Gavin remains quiet. He wants to object, tell Merrick that his Dad saved his life, even if he left him stranded in an unknown world with nothing more but the ability to read. And blimey, there were so many words one could only learn while reading. It was quite astonishing. But Gavin soon realised that reading wouldn't get him far. He found some money in his pockets, probably a secret gift from his father, which didn't last long, though.

Then Gavin was on his own, trying to work but everything is so different and the lights all switch on magically and there is a box that showed tiny people moving inside and folks don't use quill and ink anymore, they type. Feed their words into a machine. Sorcery, that's what it is.

So really, why did his Dad save him? Did he expect him to survive? Or did he just not care?

"I take it you see my point?" Merrick asks him and Gavin shrugs, hanging his head and clutching the pitcher tighter. "How'd you like to get back at him?"

Gavin blinks. "I doubt I'd be a great help."

"Now, don't say that. I wouldn't be here if I thought you aren't the man I'm looking for."

"Why?"

"I'm still working for your father, you see, and I need someone to carry out a few tasks, without him noticing. Without anyone noticing. I have more people who will help, but you're essential. We need you."

Gavin swallows. He's never been essential to anything. "Ya think I'd just do it like that? Betray me Dad?"

"Oh, you're telling me you don't want to see that your drunk, abusive father gets what's coming to him?"

Gavin's blood runs cold and he has the sudden urge to run but Merrick holds him back with a firm grip on his shoulder, pushing him back down into the chair.

"Relax, Gavin. Join me and he'll be punished, once and for all."

"There are people after me. Bad people. I think ya should know."

"I already do. And if you agree to help me, they will leave you alone. For good."

"For good?"

"For good."

"But I owe them money."

"I know. Won't be a problem. We've got our means."

Gavin considers Merrick. Though frankly, what's there to consider? The thugs he's made debts with will have his head sooner or later. His Dad won't help, not that Gavin has any idea where to start looking for him if he actually thought the bloke could be arsed to do anything for his son. Merrick is the only option that still promises an outcome that's at least halfway decent.

"Alright. Yes."

"You won't regret it, my friend," Merrick tells him and calls for another round.

xXx

"Professor Nkrumah isn't in today," the secretary at the University of Utah tells Sam with a pleasant smile.

"Could you give us his address," he asks aiming for his most innocent expression and his most charming smile. "It's urgent."

"Of course, Agent…?"

"Tubbs," Sam manages without cringing. Damn Dean and his stupid sense of humor. That's one thing that hasn't improved since his brother got his new powers.

The secretary hands over the address without much ado and Sam unlocks his phone on the way out of the administration building.

"I got his address, I'll go there now," he tells Dean who is currently questioning Cox' coworkers.

"Good, ask him if he knows a way how a rookie can score a promotion after a month at a new company."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, they all think he was some kind of genius, it's shady as fuck. If I hear one more guy serenade his great work ethic I'm gonna puke in one of the fake office plants, I swear."

"Tough it out, man," Sam shoots back with a chuckle.

"Yeah, but then I go ahead and ask them, 'Hey, if the guy's so great, why'd he get canned?' and all of a sudden everyone's glaring daggers. Say he was laundering money, accepting bribes… Heavy shit, man. The way this went down he'd have never landed another job in finance again."

"And paired with the financial ruin from the water damage and his sister's hospital bills, he finds he's in over his head."

"And decides the best way to deal with that crap is to slit his wrists. Really mature there, kiddo."

"Stop judging him and get back to interviewing his coworkers."

"Alright, Samantha," Dean grumbles and hangs up.

xXx

As it turns out, Yoofi Nkrumah lives in the same neighborhood as their victim did, even in the same kind of luxurious house with a decent car in the driveway.

Sam rings the doorbell and flashes his badge, mentally crossing his fingers that Nkrumah isn't a fan of 80ies television shows or the moment he'll introduce himself will turn very awkward. It's a good thing Dean isn't there with him.

Of course Sam googled the professor before he dropped by, just to get an idea. From the looks of it, Yoofi Nkrumah is not just a lecturer at Utah University, but also an activist for religious and spiritual tolerance, a published author, giving guest lectures all across the state and winning prizes for his achievements.

The middle-aged man with a tweet jacket who opens the door and thankfully doesn't question Sam's name or the validity of his ID looks exactly like the good man Sam pictured. He invites him in without hesitation and before Sam knows it, there is coffee in front of him.

"Now, how can I be of service?" The professor is soft-spoken and polite – not merely pretending to be polite because it is expected, but genuinely so. It's refreshing for a change in Sam's opinion.

"Sir, my partner and I found your business card in the home of someone recently deceased," Sam explains, retrieving the evidence bag with the item from his jacket pocket. "His name was Robert Cox. We were hoping you could tell us more about the victim."

Nkrumah's eyes grow sad. "Rob died?"

"The official cause of death is suicide."

Nkrumah huffs dejectedly. "Did something bad happen to him to evoke such a profound reaction from him?"

Sam squints at the man. Intriguing. "You could say that."

"Were those occurrences in any way related to snakes or water?"

Sam has to force his mouth closed or else he would have been gaping at the man. "Yes. How did you know?"

Nkrumah sighs again and rises from the red and white sofa, motioning for Sam to follow, then leads them through the hallway into another room. On the way Sam notices a picture of the professor with a young girl. The similarity is striking so she is probably his daughter.

When Sam enters the room, he isn't quite sure what to think. A kind of shrine takes up the middle, draped in red and white like the sofa and the chairs in the living room. Gold and other jewelry is sparkling in the morning light, placed at the feet of small figurines of nude women. Sam notices snake symbols and blue dishes as well as an art print of a similar woman, wearing red heels, a snake and nothing else.

xXx

"I hope you have an open mind, Agent."

That startles a laugh out of Sam. "Yes, I do," he say emphatically and Nkrumah smiles.

"I'm not merely a professor, I'm also a devotee to Mami Wata, a water spirit. Some call her a deity. Now, Robert Cox came to me a year ago, explaining how he had met a black woman with snake earrings and a white-red dress and red shoes who had relations with him and then demanded his faithfulness. He kept the promise and was rewarded, just as Mami Wata rewards all those who remain faithful to her. I told him about her and what she expects from those she choses. What happened to him?"

"He lost his job. And his house due to water damage. His sister was bitten by a snake."

Nkrumah nods gravely. "I told him he would loose everything if he betrayed Mami Wata. Apparently he didn't listen."

Sam clears his throat, wondering how he much he can ask about the spirit without tipping the priest off that they intend to hunt it.

"There've been other incidences," Sam explains. "The yacht club –"

"Yes, and two men who have become very successful rather unexpectedly. Like I said – she punishes those who break their promises. Or, in case of the yacht club, I believe she left them valuable goods to find. She would then demand them back and whoever complied would be in her favor. Those who don't – not so much."

"Is there a way to summon her?" Sam asks and immediately regrets it for Nkrumah's face darkens.

"No. She will only appear to those she thinks worthy."

The silence that follows is chilling.

"Who are you really, Mr. Tubbs? I find it hard to believe an FBI agent would be so gullible when it comes to the spiritual. You normally cling to hard facts and scientific evidence until your fingers fall off."

"I've seen more than your usual agents," Sam tries to assure him and looks around, desperate to find a way to smoothly diffuse the situation. His eyes land on a picture of his witness and his daughter, only this time she seems years younger. Her head is shaved and she's sitting in a hospital bed.

Nkrumah follows his gaze, suddenly smiling. "Yes, my daughter. She was very sick as a child but Mami Wata smiled down on me."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Something sad colors Nkrumah's eyes then, just for a moment but long enough that Sam notices. Before he can ask, however, the man clears his throat.

"Well, I have to return to grading papers. If you need further information, you have my card."

Sam smiles and gets back to the car, already dialing Dean's number to tell him he is going to pick him up in a few.

He doesn't see the woman watching from the other side of the street, partially hidden behind a tree.

xXx

"So," Dean says slowly, pinning a picture of Robert Cox on the motel room wall, "we got this guy who made a deal with crazy Ariel," another picture, this time one they found while looking for lore on Mami Wata in which her hair is actually black but that doesn't seem to faze Dean in the slightest, "and ended up ruined."

"We know why she did all that to him?"

"Yeah, we do," Dean says cheerfully, holding up a picture of a redheaded woman. "Patricia from administration. They went out on a few dates, slept together the night before the whole money laundering thing was uncovered."

"Of course they did," Sam groans. Seriously, if a priest tells you to keep faithful to a water deity or spirit or whatever, why can't these people just do it?

"Then there's the yacht club –"

"Where she destroyed the boats of those who didn't return the goods she left them, according to our expert."

"And these two chuckleheads," Dean finishes, pinning the pictures (two shirtless pictures for some odd reason) to the wall as well. "So how do we hunt that bitch down?"

Sam jumps into action, walking over to the mess of books and printouts littering his bed.

"Well, Nkrumah said she's only appear to those she thinks worthy but some of the lore says she hangs around water or that she can be called upon through excessive dancing and that after her medium has reached a trance-like state she possesses them."

"Nope, we're not doing that. I don't dance."

"Apart from that, you really thing we'd qualify as a medium?"

"We've been weirder things," Dean holds against it and Sam can't really argue with that. "So we've got squad? No summoning ritual?" Sam shakes his head. "Anything on how to gank the bitch?"

"No… but should we?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She hasn't hurt anyone."

"That guy's dead, Sammy, and she's a demon!"

"Yeah, but so are you, Dean, and you're not killing for kicks. Neither is she – in fact, she's not killing at all."

Dean's face is unreadable and no matter how hard Sam tries, he can't figure out what is going on in Dean's head right now.

"So what, we'll just pack our shit and get the hell out of dodge?"

Sam shrugs but Dean's not having any of that.

"No way, Sammy. We've never dealt with something like this before, we got no idea what the thing's capable of. So we're gonna talk to her, seize her up. And then we'll see."

Dean says it with a finality that Sam knows from past experience is no use arguing against. If he did, Dean would just go without him, so Sam reluctantly agrees and grabs his jacket.

xXx

"Come on, man, this is pointless," Dean hears Sam whine in the distance.

"Yeah well, the night's still young."

"We've been here for hours!"

"Stop bitching," Dean snaps, eyes gliding over the lake and the nearby wildlife, hoping that this stupid demon shows herself soon.

Dean's good mood from this morning has mostly vanished by now. After exhausting hours of sparring with potential knights in a part of Hell that's not used for torture or filled with fire, Dean was relaxed, sated. Crowley was right – a quick fuck wouldn't have had the same effect.

And now they've been searching for hours with nothing but the lake and trees and Sam's constant nagging to keep them company.

Suddenly his brother screams and all negative thoughts are forgotten as Dean whirls around, poised to attack. There's a woman standing over Sammy who's kneeling on the ground while three large snakes are winding their bodies around Sam's arms and torso. So this is Mami Wata, tall, black and, Dean has to admit, gorgeous. If he didn't know what she is and met her in a bar, Dean would definitely tap that.

As it is, though, Dean is wielding the blade, the Mark pulsing against his skin, contemplating how he can cut that stupid grin off the demon's face.

"I like this one," she purrs, raking a hand through Sam's hair and making him squirm.

"Get your hands off him, bitch," Dean growls darkly, provoking a hiss from the snakes which is the last thing he notices before he slams back-first against a tree.

Mami Wata is on him immediately, pressing her body close against his, wriggling her hips against his crotch suggestively.

"No, Dean Winchester – you listen to me," she whispers in his ear, nosing down his throat and Dean concentrates with all his might but he can't get the freak off him. "I know why you're here and it won't work. I can't be killed. You can destroy this form but as long as there are believers in the world, my existence continues."

"You so sure of that?" Dean grits out, forcing his hips to remain still. It's difficult when there's a warm body trying to get his motor running and it's been so long since he's had fun that he can't even remember the last time.

"So much rage…. So much anger," she mumbles, her fingers trailing down his chest. "I can feel it burning inside you, equally bright as the lust you won't feed. You're bursting with it, lust and passion yearning to be released… Why won't you, Dean? Why not give in to your urges?"

"'Cause I'm not a monster, you freak."

"Oh, have you looked in the mirror lately?" she sneers. "Really looked at your true form? You've been a monster for some time now, babe."

"Doesn't mean I gotta act like one," Dean snarls, trying with renewed vigor to get free.

"But why deny yourself what you want? You'll succumb eventually, why not have fun while you're still in control? You will loose in the end."

"You got no idea who I am, lady – I don't lose."

She chuckles and Dean can feel the sound vibrate against his throat where she's pressing her lips. "You shall. Mark my words."

Enough is enough, Dean decides, and in a burst of blind rage he manages to get out of her telekinetic hold and turns the tables around. The fight that follows is over quickly despite the snakes she sends his way. Their poison can't harm Dean, nothing can, and one second Mami Wata is standing tall but the next she's go the first blade buried to the hilt in her ribcage.

She erupts in red and white light and eventually collapses in on herself, her body turning into water that flows back into the lake.

Dean rushes to Sam's side and pulls him up. His brother's shaking, brushing down his arms and chest where the snakes held him down with forceful motions and slightly shaking hands.

"You think she's gone?" is the first thing Sam says and isn't that just peachy.

"I ganked her."

"Yeah, but she said –"

"I don't care what she said. I'll end her again if she's stupid enough to cross my path again."

Sam rolls his eyes and huffs. "Let's at least tell Nkrumah that she won't answer his prayers for a while."

"Why the hell would we do that?"

"He's her priest here. We killed his deity; the least we can do is tell him. Please?"

One should think that after all those years Dean's developed a resistance against his little brother saying 'please' and looking at him with those big puppy dog eyes but nope. Dean could probably withstand it now if he weren't constantly focusing on his feelings and instead just going with the narcissistic tendencies that come with the black eyes and the zapping abilities, but then that's exactly what he knows he shouldn't want.

So Dean sighs and leads the way to the Impala.

xXx

On the ride to the professor's house, Sam keeps glancing worriedly at Dean who doesn't acknowledge it even though he has to notice.

Sam eventually gathers his thoughts enough to open his mouth but before he can say anything Dean grunts out a gruff "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't say what you're gonna say. 'Cause I don't wanna hear it."

"Fine."

The ensuing silence is tense and uncomfortable. Neither of them speaks until they pull up in the driveway of Nkrumah's house. The windows are dark except the one in the living room and Sam is halfway out of the car when Dean stops him, suddenly appearing next to him and gripping his arm.

"Shush, listen!"

Sam narrows his eyes but he doesn't need to concentrate to hear the chilling howl of a hellhound coming from the house.

They glance at each other and then move in unison, Dean kicking the door while Sam retrieves his knife. They find the professor in the living room, cowering in a corner with several salt lines drawn around himself. Sam can't see the dog but he can see the claw marks in the wooden floor and the holes in the first protective ring of salt.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, I'm on it."

Dean approaches while Nkrumah watches them with wide fear-filled eyes.

"Come here, boy," Dean tells the dog, his voice light and then he's kneeling on the floor and rubbing an invisible pet.

Sam stares, trying to think of something stranger that has happened to him recently but he comes up with nothing.

"What are you?" Nkrumah's question brings Sam back to reality.

"Right now the only thing standing between you and an eternity in the pit, you moron," Dean answers for him. Sam is a bit confused by the sudden turn of events, trying to find an explanation.

"Wait," Sam says, "you said your daughter – no. Mami Wata doesn't have power over life and death. So you went elsewhere and made a deal."

"I already lost my wife!" Nkrumah gasps defensively. "I wasn't going to lose my daughter, too!"

"But now you're leaving her," Sam states flatly.

"We have an aunt in San Francisco. I wrote it in my will, I took care of everything."

"Have you told her?"

"There's a letter in her room."

Sam bites his tongue. Not his business, he tries to remind himself.

The room is silent except for small growls from the hellhound, which make Dean look up at him.

"He's getting antsy. My petting skills ain't gonna hold him back much longer."

Sam's eyes flick towards Nkrumah who swallows heavily and nods. "I'm… well, as ready as I'll ever be."

Years ago Sam would have objected, tried to convince the guy to fight but now all he can really do is remain quiet. Nkrumah knew fully well what would happen ten years after his daughter was cured and he has accepted his fate.

It's Dean who moves. He steps closer to the salt line and disrupts it with his foot. Sam hears a growl and then claws scraping across the floor. Nkrumah screams as his chest opens and blood soaks the man's shirt.

Then there is silence and the only thing that reminds of the professor are the salt grains on the floor.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Sam more pleads then decides. Just because there was nothing he could do doesn't mean he feels any better about Nkrumah's death. He was a good man who tried to make the world a better place. He doesn't deserve this, didn't deserve to loose his family in the first place.

But if his life has taught Sam anything it is that it's not fair.

He goes through the motions, packing his stuff in the motel on autopilot. Dean doesn't talk, attuned to Sam's moods.

"Come on, I'll zap us back," Dean suggests when they close the Impala's trunk.

Sam can't even think of a teasing remark so he just nods and lets Dean grip his shoulder to teleport him across the country and back to Kansas.

xXx

Back in Lebanon, Dean sheds his duffel bag and makes sure that he can't hear a sound from Sammy's room before he ventures outside and vanishes.

He reappears across the street from a club, leans against the wall as he considers his options. Mami Wata's words are still echoing in his head, mostly 'cause the freak had a point. Somehow he convinced himself that holding back's the right thing to do but just like he feels better after a couple of hours in Hell with his Knights-in-training, he supposes he'll feel better after he gets a hit of another nature.

Thing is, Mami Wata was right. Dean can't remember the last time he got laid, let alone scored with another guy. The latter's mostly to blame on him and Sammy living in each other's pockets, though. Before the whole running-off-to-college ordeal it was easier, kind of.

Like the thing with the panties, this is another one of Dean's secrets, one he could ask himself should he ever encounter a past version of himself again. It started with mutual hand jobs in the locker rooms of one of the gazillion high schools Dean had attended back then, and from hand jobs things had progressed to blowjobs, to needy quickies in the car's backseat. But Dean would only risk it when he could be sure his Dad would never catch him and when Sam was fast asleep or otherwise occupied.

It seems pretty ridiculous now, Dean has to admit, how afraid he used to be, how high his inhibitions were. Remnants of them are still there, echoes that Dean clings to in order to assure himself he's not a monster, he's still his old, human self.

The point stands, however, that Dean has been thinking about hitting the bars on the other side of town for a while now, desire burning hotly in the pit of his stomach. So here he is, across the street from a suitable hunting ground, waiting until his thoughts aren't circling themselves anymore.

"Screw it," Dean mutters. Finally he pushes himself off the brick wall and crosses the street, a shiver of anticipation coursing through him as he approaches the club.

xXx

End Notes: I really hope Dean's bisexuality will become canon in season 10. Tbh I fear they might just be queerbaiting us, but I am decidedly optimistic. I shall only be epically pissed with the show runners if the show ends forever and it turns out to have merely been a marketing strategy to keep us LGBTQIA people happy…

Trivia: For those of you who, like myself, probably forgot who Merrick is: He was Lilith's second in command, only ever mentioned on the show yet never seen and is maybe dead, maybe not. So I went with not.

Introduction to Mami Wata with lots of pictures (amongst them the one I referred to in this chapter) and the very informative Wikipedia entry.

Yoofi is a Ghanaian name for children born on Friday.