As Sam walked into the bar, he couldn't help thinking of all the times he had been in similar dives with Dean. For reasons that had always eluded him, his brother seemed to love places like these. Places with dingy lighting, battered upholstery, and cheap beer. It was just the kind of place that attracted desperate people at the end of their ropes, and tonight, that was just what Sam was counting on. He took a seat at the bar next to a blonde woman in her mid thirties. He didn't do this kind of thing very often, but Sam knew that women considered him attractive, it wasn't long before the woman, plied by alcohol and a pretty face, was telling him her whole life's story.
"And now my ex is trying to get my kids taken away. I've poured most of my money into legal fees, but he's still kicking my ass in court. It's a mess." The blonde woman, Sadie, tossed back another shot.
"You know" said Sam, "there might actually be something I can do to help."
"What are you a lawyer or something?"
"Or something" Sam smiled.
Less than an hour later, Sam was standing at the nearest crossroads watching Sadie bury a box in the dirt.
"Okay, now all you have to do is say these words", he handed her a piece of paper, "and tell the person who appears what you want. I'll be right over there, okay?"
Sadie nodded determinedly, and Sam moved to stand a few paces away. He had no intention of actually letting a deal go down. This time he was going to be faster. When a man with a grey beard and a black suit suddenly appeared in the middle of the road, he immediately charged, tackling the man and rammed the demon killing knife into his shoulder. He heard a shriek come from Sadie, followed by the sound of her heels clacking against pavement as she ran away, but he was much too preoccupied to look up. Before the demon pinned underneath him had time to retaliate, Sam lowered his head and bit into its neck.
The next morning, Sam rolled out of bed feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks. The demon blood produced a high in him similar to the comfortable, free feeling that came from the rare occasions in which he indulged in too much alcohol. However, unlike alcohol, the blood didn't leave him feeling hung over in the morning. Actually, he felt great, better than he had in weeks. Even his arm was barely bothering him anymore. Reaching the kitchen, he got himself out some cereal and reached past the bottle of demon blood in the fridge to grab the milk. As he ate, he scrolled through the news on his computer, mentally going over his plans for the day. Not even the headline "Questions pile up in the investigation of former marine's, murder" could sour his mood.
His breakfast done, Sam began to get out the ingredients for the summoning. Powerful demons like Crowley had a specific summoning ritual associated with them. They could choose whether or not to actually show up, but Sam was betting that after seeking his help in getting rid of the newest knight of hell, Crowley was going to be willing to take his call. After failing to capture Dean on the first opportunity, Sam hadn't wanted to contact the king of hell until he was holding a few more cards. It was never a good idea to negotiate from a place of weakness, but now with the demon blood in his veins, Sam was ready and feeling anything but weak.
"Et ad congregandum . . ." Sam chanted.
"Moose" Crowley spoke, appearing suddenly, "I've been expecting your call. No doubt you asked me here to beg for my help again."
"Think again Crowley, its me that's cleaning up your mess, and all I need from you is his location."
"Straight to the point then. Well, I'd help you if I could, but unfortunately, I don't know where he is."
"Sure, you don't" Sam scoffed. "Do you really expect me to believe that you haven't got your people watching him?"
"I did, but he managed to find and kill all of them. I am curious though, after failing so miserably the first time around, what exactly is your master plan for bringing home brother dearest?"
"This." Fed up with Crowley's mocking and realizing he wasn't going to be of any help, Sam focused his mind and reached out to grab onto the demonic soul that was inhabiting the body in front of him. He mentally wrestled with the soul, but Crowley was a powerful demon and resisted him. Realizing he wasn't powerful enough yet to take on a high-level demon, Sam was forced to relent. He let go of the struggling soul, and both he and Crowley were left gasping like they had run a marathon.
"Well, well Moose" Crowley practically purred. "That is an impressive party trick. Seems like you haven't got quite enough juice yet though."
"Yeah well, give me time." Sam sounded almost petulant.
"Oh, I'm going to give you far more than that. Moose you should have come to me in the first place. I'd heard of your blood junkie mojo before of course, but if I'd seen it in action, well, we needn't have even bothered with the whole Mark of Cain thing, I should've just sicced you on Abbadon."
Sam felt a resurgence of guilt. Could they have avoided all of this mess if he had just started drinking sooner? He was beginning to forget why he had ever stopped.
"Ah well, better late than never" Crowley sighed dramatically, "and when it comes to demon blood, who better to have as your dealer than the King of Hell? Back in a jiffy", and with that he disappeared, leaving behind the faint smell of sulfur.
That was not how Sam had expected the conversation to go. Fortunately, he didn't have long to dwell on his confusion because within ten minutes, Crowley was back again, carrying a large glass vat like the kind used to ferment wine, only it wasn't filled with wine. "Here we go, hot off the tap" said the demon cheerily. "Now, I can't tell you where that pesky brother of yours is at this exact moment, but I can equip you to take him off both of our plates when you do finally catch up with him."
Sam wasn't sure what to say, he didn't trust the demon, but this would be a lot easier than having to keep tricking other people into summoning crossroads demons for him. Finally, he settled on "when I do get him back we're both coming after you next."
"Yeah, yeah, I know the line. Just, do give me a ring when you need more blood won't you? Oh, and Sam, if you ever feel like a career change, I think you'd make a lovely crossroads demon. You're better at talking humans into selling their souls than half the demons I have on staff." With that he disappeared again. Sam walked over and began to haul the jug of blood towards the to the cold pantry.
Dean drove through the night on an almost empty highway, just like he had done countless times before, but this time all that was next to him in the front seat were some balled up fast food wrappers. He didn't know where he was going, and he didn't know what he was going to do when he got there. He was just driving, unable to shut down the debate that kept cycling over and over through his head. He was a hunter, he was supposed to save people. That instinct was so ingrained in his mind that even becoming a demon hadn't shut it down completely, but he also wanted to kill, wanted it desperately, knew it was what he was meant to do. Fortunately for Dean's peace of mind, that old do-gooder voice in his head seemed to be getting quieter as time went on. Maybe he would just keep driving until it shut up altogether.