Chapter 7
Spending ten hours in the car with a Crossroads demon riding shotgun was not an experience Dean ever wanted to repeat again. If it wasn't for the fact that he needed Crowley to find Lucifer, he probably would've ganked the demon after the first hour. Between the snarky disses—of Dean's music tastes, the Impala—and the demon's self-aggrandized ramblings on the disorganization of Hell and how he'd redesign it were he in charge, Dean was ready to toss Crowley out of the moving vehicle. But since he couldn't, he had to focus on channeling his irritation into another outlet, mainly in his lead foot and white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel.
They stopped only once for gas, and with Dean pushing the speed limits the whole way, they made it to Detroit in ten hours. Crowley directed Dean toward the outskirts of the city, and he finally pulled to a stop in front of an old abandoned power plant.
"Well, Satan's really slumming it, isn't he? You sure this is the place?"
Crowley rolled his eyes, and reached across the dash to point at a platform up near the drum where two guys were standing. "No hard hats, and does it look like they're doing anything? So either they're incredibly negligent employees, or—"
"They're demons," Dean finished. "Okay, so what's the plan? Those probably aren't the only mooks hanging around."
"I'll create a distraction so you can get inside."
Dean waited a beat. "And then? The place is huge. How am I supposed to find Sam in there?"
"What, you want me to hold your hand?" Crowley snipped.
Dean scowled and opened the driver's side door. Fine, he'd do this himself. Besides, he didn't trust a demon to watch his back anyway.
Crowley climbed out after him, calling over the Impala's roof. "Oh, and if things go south, don't expect another rescue from me."
Dean slammed his door shut. "I thought we were in this together."
"No," the demon drawled. "I'm in this for myself. Which only goes so far as to give you a fighting chance. I'm willing to give these idiots a fun chase, but I'm not stupid enough to set foot inside that place. So the rest will be up to that Winchester, Hail Mary bullshit you normally pull."
"Lucifer killing me isn't exactly going to keep your ass safe in the long run."
"No, but unfortunately, we've been reduced to short-term action plans. Now—" Crowley made a shooing motion with his wrist. "Shall we play ding-dong-ditch with the Devil?"
In the blink of an eye, the demon was gone, leaving Dean standing alone in the weeded lot. Grumbling about not trusting that piece of shit as far as he could throw him, Dean holstered the Colt, unsheathed Ruby's knife, and crept toward the factory. He skirted around the opposite side where the goons were stationed, keeping his eyes peeled for more sentries. He made it all the way to an entry point without encountering any, but then hesitated. What kind of distraction was Crowley planning on making? And how long was Dean supposed to wait? If Sam was in there, every second could count.
A moment before he was about to barge in regardless of Crowley's 'distraction,' an explosion cracked the air and rocked the ground. On the other side of the compound, Dean saw huge sparks flying upward and what looked like power lines whipping back and forth like decapitated snakes. Way to go, Crowley. Just try not to blow the whole joint.
The door a foot in front of Dean suddenly swung open, and would have clobbered him in the face if his back hadn't already been pressed to the wall. A support pole bracing a frame above also saved him from being squashed as several demons poured out. He gripped Ruby's knife at the ready, but the demons didn't spare a look behind them, too focused on the explosions still going off up ahead. Dean counted to five after they'd filed out to make sure no others would emerge, and then he edged around the door and slipped inside. Now to figure out where they were keeping Sam.
Sticking to the shadows as much as possible, Dean crept along the first floor around generators and pumps, and started to think that Crowley was wrong, or at the very least that Lucifer was no longer here. This hardly seemed the place to keep a prisoner.
He heard the sound of one set of footsteps coming toward him, and ducked between two conduits. A bobbing shadow entered his field of vision first, and as soon as the demon strode past, Dean leaped out and jammed Ruby's knife through his neck. The demon jerked on the skewer, completely taken off guard as orange lightning flashed through his skull. Dean wrenched the blade free, and the body thudded to the floor. Glancing around to make sure the coast was still clear, he bent down to grab the arms, and dragged the body between the conduits, stuffing unruly limbs at awkward angles between the panels.
More footsteps clattered on the catwalk above, and Dean ducked down, trying to blend in with the shadows.
"What's going on?" he heard Meg's voice snap. Bitter anger ignited anew in Dean's gut; he wanted nothing more than to ice the bitch that had killed Ellen and Jo. Later, he reminded himself. Sam came first. He inched forward to get a better view while remaining hidden. It was difficult to see through the webbing of pipes and cables, but he could make out four figures on the second level.
"We're under attack," a man replied gruffly. "It…Harlan said it's Crowley."
Through the rails, Dean saw Meg's face twist with fury. "I'll kill him. You two." She gestured sharply at the other lackeys. "Guard the vessel."
Dean sucked in a breath. Bingo.
Meg and the first demon went one way, and the others scurried in the opposite direction. Dean trailed them from below, trying to keep them in sight while still watching out for other demons he might run into. But the place seemed oddly vacant. Guess it was a good thing Crowley had come along after all. Dean almost wished the Crossroads demon luck should he run into Meg. It'd be a shame if the bitch killed him. Well, not really. Actually, it'd be great if the two could just end up killing each other, though Dean would prefer to have the pleasure of stabbing Meg through the heart himself. But if he got Sam back, he didn't care how she bit the dust.
He slunk up to a turbine and waited as the two thugs slowed to a stop in front of a door upstairs, taking up a guard stance in front of it. Dean was banking on Sam being in there. There was a staircase a few paces behind him, so Dean backtracked toward it. The metal steps creaked under his feet, which he winced at. He wasn't going to get much of a drop on these guys anyway, so he decided to just barrel in.
With a burst of speed, Dean sprinted up the rest of the way and charged the demons. They barely batted an eyelid at his sudden appearance, as they never did. Shoulders pushed out like hulking brutes, they merely lunged forward in response. But underestimating a Winchester would be the last mistake they ever made.
Dean ducked under the first one and stabbed Ruby's knife into his back. A strangled scream tore from his throat as his body arched in a dying spasm. Before Dean could yank the blade loose, however, the second demon sucker punched him in the jaw. Spots burst across his vision and he went down on one knee. He threw himself at the demon's legs, toppling the dude's balance until he fell across Dean's shoulders. Dean grunted as his back twinged, but then he shoved the demon into the wall, following through with a knife to the heart. It died with a spritz and gurgle.
Dean staggered to his feet, whipping his head around to make sure the ruckus hadn't drawn further attention. Luckily, it seemed the rest of the demon squad was outside trying to wrangle Crowley. Dean sincerely hoped the smarmy bastard gave them a run for their money—only so Dean would have more time to get Sam out, of course.
He turned toward the door, a thick iron slab labeled 'Steam Pipe Distribution Center.' Okay, guess there were stranger places to keep a hostage. Dean's heart thundered in his chest, wondering if Lucifer was on the other side. Swapping Ruby's knife for the Colt—because yeah, even though it didn't kill the Devil, it at least knocked him down for a minute—he gripped the handle and yanked it open.
Dean barged in, gun raised, only to jerk to a halt as his feet landed on a large Turkish rug and his eyes took in taupe colored walls with bronze light fixtures, and a king-size bed that looked fit for, well, a French monarch. He blinked in bewilderment, then cast a look over his shoulder to make sure he hadn't just stepped through some freaky portal. But nope, the power plant's interior was still behind him on one side of the threshold, and on the other this empty, ornate suite. The feeling of jumping between two realities was eerily familiar, reminding Dean of the Trickster's pocket dimension. But then, the Trickster had turned out to be the archangel Gabriel, so maybe he and Lucifer shared a few tricks…
Was this Lucifer's chambers? But…then where was Sam? Dean couldn't be too late, could he? The demons had been told to guard the vessel, so Sam had to be here. Mounting panic sent Dean's pulse into overdrive, but then movement in the back corner caught his attention, and Sam emerged from an opening. His little brother stopped short, eyes wide and reddened, face splotchy from splashing water on it. For a moment, they just stared at each other, Sam in apparent shock, Dean searching for physical signs of torture that might explain the desolate and hollow look in his brother's eyes.
"Dean?" Sam stammered first.
Dean's face cracked with a borderline hysteric grin. "Hey, Sammy. Ready to blow this joint?"
"But, how are you…?"
"Long story." He glanced back at the catwalk and gestured sharply. "Let's get out of here first." For the most part, Sam actually seemed in one piece.
Sam took a step forward, but then hesitated. "Wait, is, is it really you? How do I know this isn't some twisted ruse to get my guard down?"
Dean's heart twisted that Sam would doubt his appearance. After all, he always came for his brother, no matter what. But he couldn't imagine what treatment Sam had suffered in Lucifer's clutches for an entire day. Although, the fancy digs sure didn't seem that torturous…
Easing the door partially closed, Dean turned and took a step toward Sam. "It's me. The one who made Mac&Cheese with tomato soup for your sixth birthday because you wanted pasta, and dad wasn't around to tell me how to do it right." He put a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Whole thing tasted disgusting, but we both ate it anyway."
A muscle in Sam's cheek ticked, and Dean could see him trying to work something out. It left a sick feeling in his gut, until finally he felt the tension bleed from Sam's rigid muscles, and then his brother was pulling him into an abrupt hug.
"How the hell did you find me?"
Dean gave him a slap of solidarity on the back before pulling away. "Crowley, believe it or not. Now come on, we need to leave while he's still distracting them." He reached behind his waistband and pulled out Ruby's knife, which he passed to Sam. Then he held the Colt up at the ready and peeked out into the factory. "What was Lucifer's plan here? Pamper you into saying yes?"
Sam froze. "You think I'd give in so easily, for material comfort?"
Dean blinked, and had to duck back in when he realized Sam wasn't following. "No, dude, of course not." It wasn't like he'd wanted to find his little brother strung up in a dungeon or torture chamber, but finding him in the equivalent of a palace was a little disorienting. There were even platters of half-eaten food on the table near the wall.
Sam took a step back. "Did you make a deal with Crowley? My god, Dean, did you sell your soul again? Because you thought I'd give in and say yes?"
"What? No! Crowley offered to help. He wants Lucifer dead too, remember? And I didn't think that."
Except he had. He'd wondered what it would take for Sam to give in, and that was why he'd gone to Zachariah. So, yeah, maybe Dean had doubted his brother, which was bad enough, but not nearly as bad as the fact that Dean had ended up caving first. What would Sam think of him if he knew? Kid was hurt by the thought Dean didn't trust him, that much he could tell, but if Sam knew the truth? That Dean's worry over him not being able to hold out forever had led to him being the weak one? Sam had hated it when Dean sold his soul to save him, and what had Dean done? Gone and pulled the self-sacrificial move once again, in the worst way possible. Yeah, how could Sam forgive him for that? For doing exactly what Dean hadn't wanted Sam to do. But, Dean hadn't actually gone through with it.
Only 'cause a demon interrupted you.
Still, he was here, Michael wasn't.
"Look, we can talk about this later," he snapped.
"How long have I been gone?" Sam asked abruptly.
Dean blinked. "What? Almost twenty-four hours." He vaguely registered the windowless room, and could understand how Sam might not know, though it hardly seemed important at the moment.
Something haunted entered Sam's eyes. "You thought I'd say yes that quickly?" he said in a soft voice.
"No." Jeez, what was with him? Who the hell complained about getting rescued expeditiously? "Sam, seriously, we need to go. Unless you want to stay." Dean had meant to say it with blithe snark, not make Sam flinch like that, but at least it got his brother moving. Stiffly, Sam followed Dean out onto the catwalk, stepping lightly over the dead bodies. Pounding feet echoed from the level below, and the brothers waited for the demons to storm past, heading toward the opposite side of the plant. Dean thought he heard the muffled sound of another explosion. Where was Lucifer in all this?
Sam's gaze kept flicking around nervously, as though afraid the Devil would pop in any second. Dean was actually terrified of that too, and he half-sprinted toward the stairs, battling the urge to run full out with the need to maintain stealth. It would be better if they could make it to the Impala without anyone noticing their departure, because even with the Colt and Ruby's knife, they were not prepared to take on a large horde of demons. As for Crowley, well, he was the one who'd said every man for himself.
"Wait," Sam hissed at the bottom of the stairs.
Dean gritted his teeth. "What now?"
Sam's mouth tightened at the tone, but their was a hint of his classic 'bitch-face' underneath. "We have to find Cas."
Dean's jaw went slack in surprise. "What? Cas is here?"
"So Lucifer hinted." Sam glanced both directions, expression pinching. "I don't know where he's being held though."
Dean's mind reeled. The angel was alive. The stupid son-of-a-bitch wasn't dead, hadn't run out on them after all.
But this place was huge; how were they supposed to find him? The longer they lingered, the more chance Lucifer would return, and then this whole rescue would've been for nothing. Better for Dean to get Sam out, and then maybe he could come back. Not that he'd be able to pull off a covert infiltration twice. No, Dean couldn't leave Cas here. He didn't know why Lucifer would be keeping the angel alive, but it couldn't be for good. Besides, Dean was through leaving people he cared about behind.
Gripping the Colt tighter, he squared his shoulders. "We'll find him."
Sam nodded resolutely, a spark of fight returning to his eyes. And so the two Winchesters strode off in search of their angel.