Say goodbye, as we dance with the devil tonight.
Don't you dare look at him in the eye, as we dance with the devil tonight.
Trembling, crawling across my skin.
Feeling your cold dead eyes, stealing the life of mine.
I believe in you, I can show you that I can see right through all your empty lies.
I won't last long, in this world so wrong.
"Dance With The Devil" by Breaking Benjamin
They arrived at the Roadhouse in a cloud of dust and silence. Dean cut the engine. Sam peered out the window at the familiar building. Castiel stared impassively at the back of their seats.
"Well, Ellen better have some of the good stuff saved or I'm gonna shoot something," Dean grumbled, sparing a glance at his companions. He'd reverted back to his old prickly self, something that probably should have relieved Sam, but didn't.
They followed him to the door. Someone had left a cracked opened Jack Daniels leaning there, and a hastily scrawled violent message was carved into the dirt. Castiel stopped his blank staring a moment to sniff disgustedly, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost made Sam smile. Almost.
Dean threw open the door and entered the poorly lit room with all the bravado of knight back from slaying the dragon. He winked at a nearby hunter (the only other customer) and headed straight for the well-stocked bar.
A blonde woman wearing a smirk and leather jacket met him there, leaning across the wooden counter with a motherly raised eyebrow.
"Dean Winchester! Never thought you'd get your lazy ass up here to see us," Ellen Harvelle reached over to yank Dean forward by the collar, wrapping him in a forceful hug. "You're looking more an' more like your father every day."
(If there was any animosity harbored when John Winchester was mentioned, she did not show it.)
"Sorry, Ellen, we were kind of caught up in some, ah, trouble," Dean apologized gruffly into her shoulder, trying to hold back a smile.
"Oh, cry me a river, boy. You're still a punk in my book." But she was laughing. Releasing Dean, she leaned back to take in Sam. "And Lord Almighty did you get tall, Sam! Last I saw of you, you were barely past Dean here!" She jerked a thumb at a disgruntled Dean. "Not that that's any feat, but–"
"Hey! I'm not short!" Dean shouted, flustered. Ellen wasn't listening. Instead, she was wrapping Sam in the same violent hug Dean had received minutes earlier. When she was finished, she peered around his arm, frowning at Castiel. He was hovering by the door, staring darkly at something in the farthest corner.
"Hey, boys?" she cleared her throat meaningfully. "Wanna tell me what's up with him?"
Dean scratched the back of his neck nervously. He glanced sidelong at the near-empty bar. A man with a hat tucked low over his eyes sat in the corner, and for some reason, it made Dean anxious.
"A friend," he mumbled. "Look, Ellen, I'll tell you when this place closes up. The walls have ears, if you follow me."
She raised an eyebrow, pressing a cool beer into his hand. Yet she remained silent, leaving Dean to his worries.
They chose a small, crooked table by the jukebox. A Tom Petty song wailed from the crumbling speakers, and a plate of slightly stale cookies was passed around.
"You make these, Ellen?"
"Hell no. That was Jo."
"Jo? Where is she?" Sam immediately perked up. They'd always been friends, he and Jo, bonding over some girly escapade or another. Dean couldn't help but smirk. His and Jo's relationship was a little...different. Or at least it had been, before they'd both decided to take a step back and find their brains again.
"In the back, tryin' to revive that lazy MIT asshat," Ellen growled, dropping herself into the seat next to Sam. She gave Castiel another suspicious look before continuing. "I swear, if I didn't need him to hack those fancy government computers, I'd just toss him to the curb."
As if waiting for the cue, the back door smacked open, and Jo's petite frame came into view. She was fully supporting a very drunken, very mullet-ed Ash. It had been years since they'd seen the guy–last time, he'd nearly slapped Bobby for messing with his homemade computer.
Jo tossed the giggling Ash onto the floor in front of the table, blew back a piece of platinum blonde hair, and placed her hands on her hips.
"Well, the party's started now," she said.
….
Ten minutes later, Ash was successfully upright. He smoothed his brown hair back, grinning wildly.
"So I said to the man, 'Man, you don't control me! I'm a badass! Certified, man. Peace out." He made a poor attempt at a peace sign. "Dean, bro. I'm telling you. You had to be there, man." He lifted his own beer to his lips.
Jo smacked the upside of his head, spraying alcohol across the gathered group.
"Dumbass," she grinned. A wink at Dean, a warm smile at Sam, and a curious glance at Cass later, and she was all caught up. "So you still hunting?"
Dean nodded.
"Haven't gotten anything in a few weeks, but yeah." He motioned at Sam. "Just glad Sammy's back in one piece, y'know?"
They'd all heard about Jess through Bobby. It was silent a moment. Tom Petty sang a song about a girl named Mary Jane.
Ellen looked over towards where Sam was talking to Cass pleasantly. They'd moved to the bar, in hopes that that would quell the odd sense of statis Castiel had been since leaving the diner. Since Anna.
"Speaking of which," Ellen said, not unkindly. "Who is that? He's kinda...peculiar, ain't he?"
"Wicked weird, bro," Ash added sagely, with a nod.
Dean fought to hide the surge of defensiveness that suddenly rushed his brain, and he felt his ears go hot from it. He need a cover story, and fast. If his friends (no, his family) found out that Cass was government, they wouldn't hesitate to shoot him at the very least. Mr. Harvelle was missing for a reason.
"That's Cass. He's uh...well..." he fumbled for the words. Jo smirked a bit, but he could see the kindness and curiosity behind her eyes. It made him uncomfortable. "A contact, sort of. Got a brother or something in Heaven. Gives us info." It wasn't quite a lie.
"He looks a bit lost doesn't he?" Ellen took a bite of a cookie, making a face as she spit it out again.
"Wonky. Yeah, he does," Ash frowned. "But hey, we all got problems. Major ones."
Dean never loved a stoner more. He wanted to hug Ash, or at least buy him a new shirt. The sleeves of his were already torn off, showing his less-than-amazing muscle tone. It wasn't pleasant.
"Yeah, well, dude's had a hard life. Just got out of a killer relationship, weird-ass family."
"Sounds like a Winchester."
"Honorary, Ellen, and you guys ain't any prettier."
They drank.
The cookies, though terrible, were eaten under the vengeful eye of Jo.
...
Sam couldn't really get anything out of Castiel. He was shut off, spaced-out, unavailable. Nobody home. So instead, he wandered aimlessly around the bar. After a few minutes, the group dispersed (off to bed, or off to drink more in Ash's case) and he was left alone in the main room with his brother and Cass once more.
Eventually, however, they left, Dean with his arm casually flung around Cass' shoulders.
"'Night Sam."
"G'night Dean."
There was silence. Sam sighed. Ellen had her back turned, washing glasses behind the counter.
She'd always have an eye out for him, he knew, but for the most part, he was alone.
"You look lost, Sammy," the voice was odd, familiar. Sam couldn't quite place it, and as he whipped around to check the speaker he felt the strangest sensation of deja vu.
The man in the corner adjusted his baseball cap, letting a bit of pale blonde hair down his forehead. He smiled, not unkindly.
"I'm...sorry?"
"Don't you remember me, buddy?" He finally tilted his head up. Pale eyes and a crooked smile crossed Sam's face. "Aw, c'mon! Stanford? We were close, Sam. Like brothers."
And then it hit him.
"Lucy?"
"Yeah. Good to see you, Sammy boy."
…
Drinks were bought. Ellen, though wary, decided to trust Sam's insistence that Lucifer was an old college friend, and left them to their seats.
"You call me, boy," she muttered in Sam's ear before she left. "You call if anything gets sticky."
He assured her he would.
Lucifer looked older. Sam could see it in the lines in his face, the sad tilt to his eyes, the softer edge to his voice. He was no longer the friendly, outgoing older student. He was no longer a mentor. He was something different now, but Sam, in his stupor of shock, could not place exactly what.
"So," he started, tenting his hands in front of him. "Law school. Stanford. You ever end up with a firm?"
Lucifer shook his head.
"Nah, I got side-tracked. Things to do. World to see." He grinned. "How 'bout you? Hot-shot lawyer now, hot wife? Maybe a white picket fence and a mini-van?"
Sam's stomach lurched, but the beer (it must have been the beer) made him feel oddly warm, his head buzzing happily.
"No. No, not yet. Maybe some day." He smiled back. "Anyway, I've got Dean and his new 'boyfriend' to keep me amused."
Lucifer's eyebrows went up devilishly, and he raised his glass to stare over the edge at Sam.
"Ah, so the famous Dean Winchester, brother extraordinaire, isn't as much of a lady killer as you originally fortold, young Padawan," he said with an amused chuckle. "The plot thickens."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, well, could've fooled me. Hell, I didn't even know til, like a week ago."
Lucifer laughed. He took another sip of beer, and Sam remembered the first time he'd gotten drunk.
"Sammy boy, you gotta do it with class, do it with style. Ask her out on one knee. Make her a cake. Hell, throw her a goddamn parade and declare your ever-lasting love."
"Come to think of it," Sam paused, pushing hair from his eyes (his bangs were getting longer). "His last name is Novak. Wasn't that your last name, Lucy? Something like that?"
His college mentor leaned back in his chair, arms tossed lazily around his neck and his feet propped up on the beaten wooden table.
"Yeah," he grinned. "Something like that."
...
quickie A/N: Up next, on "Angel Blue": CONFRONTATION TIME. Sam talks life, love and death (but not the band) with the Devil. Dean realizes he has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Angst. Ash consumes much alcohol, and generally is a badass. Jo sasses her mother, her friends, and pretty much everything that moves. Castiel watches flowers. Angst. Dean comes up with cute pet names. More angst.
Tune in for the next installment!
Farewell, O denizens of the Destiel kind! I owe you my life, and probably much cookies!
-chaoswalking
(anybody else notice Henry Winchester from the last episode was Jack Kelso from "L.A. Noire"?)