Crossroad Blues- Part 1
The trio found themselves in Virginia after Sam had found several reports of black dogs. They stopped at a diner for lunch. They sat together, having finished most of their meal, Sam took out his laptop. In theory, he was getting ready to go over the information he'd pulled together but, as he had the past few days, he couldn't stop himself from searching to see if there was anything out at the federal level on his brother. Today was the day their luck on that end ran out.
"So much for our low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database."
Dean grinned at Sam before taking a drink of his soda. "Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something."
He squeezed Mae closer to his side with the arm casually draped over her shoulder. The icy reception from Mae told Sam this was hardly the first time that she'd dealt with Dean's disregard for the implications of this higher profile. "Dean, it's not funny. Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now."
"Well, what do they got on you?"
Still, Sam was a little uncomfortable due to the judgement his brother directed at him. "I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet." Sam muttered.
"No accessory? Nothing?"
"Shut up."
"You're jealous."
"No, I'm not! Mae doesn't have a record either, pal."
"Because she's got who knows how many secret identities. Hell, I'm pretty sure her legal name isn't even Singer anymore."
"It's not unusual to take your husband's name." Mae said.
"Yeah well, I'm not calling you that." He tried to coax a smile out of her with a gentle nudge to her side and a play of his fingers at her exposed collar bone but her expression didn't ease, "All right. What do you got on the case there, you innocent, harmless young man, you?"
Despite the static from Mae and his brother's irritation, Dean tried to enjoy the french fries while they were still hot. Annoyed, Sam closed the laptop as he shifted into work mode and pulled out several pages of research on a new job. "Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed."
"Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?"
"Two days earlier."
"Did he actually say black dog?"
"Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive."
"Do you think we're dealing with an actual black dog?"
"Well, maybe."
"What's the lore on it?"
Sam passed the papers to Dean. "It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big, nasty."
"Maes, what weird factoid do you have here?" Dean asked.
"Mmmm... well some legends say they're shapeshifters, some say they're blood suckers. Like Sam said," She gestured across the table towards the other hunter, "some are death omens. Black dogs, shucks, barghests, whatever the name, legends are common across all the UK. They can be found at crossroads, cemeteries, places where executions took place. I've read that some are associated with electrical storms. Some have been said to guide lost travelers back in the right direction but there are enough legends that describe them as anywhere from mischievous and malevolent all the way to hellhounds."
"You don't think it's weird that you know stuff like that off the top of your head?" Dean teased.
"Yeah, if I were a tax accountant." She looked over at the pages Dean held but didn't really focus on the text. "We should keep our eyes open for scorch marks on the victims' doors, see if any reports also mention the smell of brimstone, and look back through weather reports. Victims are usually scared to death or actively hunted."
"You think the architect didn't jump? Maybe he was pushed?"
"Or chased."
Dean frowned at her 'all business' tone but decided not to push it. "Anything else?"
"I thought the song 'Black Shuck' by The Darkness was a great opener to their debut album and I don't give a shit if you think glam rock is lame."
Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg. Look at that one, huh?" Dean held up one of the pictures, smirking, only earning him another glare from Sam. "What? They could."
"Just drop me off at the library," Mae said as she looked through the pages Sam had printed off with more deliberate focus while they walked back to the car.
"Yeah, okay." Dean hesitated. "Is everything okay with you?"
"Sure. Why?"
"You just seem... quiet."
Mae stopped walking to look up at Dean, with a bemused look on her face. "What do you wanna talk about?"
There wasn't anything to say, not that would be resolved then and not that didn't feel like he was begging for her attention. Just because it felt like they weren't quite clicking didn't mean that they weren't. "I-nothing. It's just..."
"What? I can't be quiet now?"
"Usually when you are, like this, it means something is wrong. So, is it the case or... something else."
She wanted to roll her eyes but didn't. "Listen, this is a black dog. What exactly can we do? I've never heard anything about how to put one down. If it's a death omen... you know, there are a lot of reasons people die that are just normal reasons people die. If they're hellhounds... well, that's really the only thing maybe we can do anything about but that means figuring out what this architect did so... I don't know, seems like we're chasing our tails, at best."
"You could sit this one out, Red. Sammy and I got it. You could just... I don't know, go have a spa day or something."
She snorted. "A spa day? When I point out a job is tough or we need to know more about what we're dealing with, it's not a secret plea to let me bail. You know, I've done this without you and your brother before. I'm just working through it."
"Yeah, okay," he said, a dejected crease appearing between his brows for a moment as he considered asking her what he really wanted to ask, but instead, he shook his head to himself and sighed. "Let me know when you're ready to go."
Dean leaned in, tilting her face up towards his with two fingers on her chin, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Mae kissed him back, but it didn't alleviate his sense that something was wrong.
With Mae at the library, the boys decided to pick up the trail with Sean Boyden's partner and find out if perhaps this was just a regular suicide. If Mae was right, and this was a death omen and nothing more, maybe that was then of it. If there was nothing to do here, Dean thought perhaps they could head back towards Montana. A few days at Mae's might be just what they needed.
In the meantime, they couldn't walk away from Sam's case until they sorted out what they were dealing with. So they changed into their suits and met the man Boyden worked with at his home.
"So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" Sam asked him.
"That's right. Now one more time, this is for...?"
"A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest." Dean said with a confirming smile. He was surprised when man shook his head and chuckled. "Funny to you?"
"No, it... it's just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind... well, he gets another tribute."
"Right. Any idea why he'd do such a thing?" Sam asked.
"I, I have no clue, I mean he lived a charmed life."
"How so?" Sam asked as he pretended to take notes.
"He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I... and it wasn't always that way, either."
"No?" Dean pressed gently.
"You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive."
"Right. So what changed?" Sam asked.
"You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing... he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart..." the man stopped abruptly.
"What?" Dean asked.
"It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why... why just throw it away?"
The next stop was animal control. Mae might have been able to pull something from the newspapers she was going through but since they were still out, Sam and Dean thought they'd try their luck at the Animal Protection Agency. Dean went in, leaving his brother to wait in the car. After about twenty minutes, he returned, getting in the driver's side of the Impala.
"So." Sam said.
"Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty-three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real."
"Dude, you have a girlfriend. A heavily armed girlfriend who is only slightly less shoot first and ask questions later than you are."
"Okay, Dear Abby, I didn't do anything that would make my girl mad. Flirting for the job is permissible."
Sam's expression clearly indicated he didn't believe Dean with regards to what he might have done to get information or that Mae would be comfortable with it. But he certainly wasn't going to save Dean from digging his own grave with Mae. "You didn't happen to ask her if she's seen any black dogs lately, did you?"
His brother held up a page. "Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all. And, uh," he pulled a post-it note off the paper. "I don't know what this thing is."
Sam took it, read it, and laughed before glancing back at his brother. "You mean Carly's MySpace address?"
"Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?" Sam laughed again but Dean didn't know why, "Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?"
Based on the list Dean got from Carly, they highlighted reports that fit a possible black dog sighting. So far, they had come up empty. Dean contemplated calling Mae, seeing if she had identified a better trail in her fact-finding mission. It would have been fun to do this with her, at least a little fun. But the annoyance he'd been picking up from her the past few days meant it was a crap shoot in terms of getting the fun Mae or the frosty Mae. Dean tried to shrug it off as they walked up to yet another white, suburban door and knocked.
"I swear, if this is another freakin' Pomeranian barking in the neighbor's yard..."
A young woman opened the door.
"Afternoon, ma'am." Dean said, pulling out an ID, "Uh, Animal Control."
"Oh, the young woman responded dismissively, "someone already came yesterday."
"Oh, we're just following up. We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?" Sam said.
The woman let them in and led them to the kitchen. "The Doctor, well, she, I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago."
Sam nodded. "Okay. And you are...?"
"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid."
"So where did the Doctor go?"
"I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. That stray dog, did you find it finally?"
"Oh, not yet." Sam said, going for apologetic in his tone, "You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?"
"Well, no. I never even heard it." The maid said.
As Sam interrogated the woman, Dean surveyed the house as discretely as he could or cared to be. A photograph on the bulletin board on the wall caught his attention and he took it down. It was a picture of Dr. Pearlman at a bar with two friends.
"I was almost starting to think the Doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so..."
"Hey," Dean mentioned, "you know I read she was, uh chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job."
"Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?"
"Huh."
"Huh." Sam said too. "An overnight success. Ten years ago."
"Yeah, we know a guy like that." said with a knowing look towards his brother. "Oh, look at this." Dean walked over to Sam, held up the photo and flipped it over to read 'Lloyd's Bar,' on the back.
Lloyd's Bar wasn't exactly in the middle of nowhere but it was definitely a side of the road dive bar that may have seen the occasional passerby but if the drinks were good enough or cheap enough, would have a loyal clientele. It was small though, and over weeds around the place were tall and overgrown.
Because Mae called Dean shortly after they left the doctor's house, the boys picked her up at the library, after getting an address to the bar.
As they walk towards the bar, Dean took note of some yellow flowers that even among the weeds and grasses, seemed out of place. Mae almost walked into Dean when he stopped but paused when she caught herself, trying to assess what exactly caught his attention.
"What's wrong?" Mae asked him.
"Hey."
"Yeah?" Sam responded.
"That's weird."
"What?"
"Think someone planted these?" Dean indicated towards the bright yellow flowers at several of the corners of the intersection.
"Middle of all these weeds?"
Dean nodded. "These are, uh, what do you call 'em."
"Yarrow flowers?"
"Yeah." Dean thought, "Used for certain rituals, aren't they?"
"Yeah, actually. Summoning rituals."
"Mmm..." Mae muttered as she crossed the street to walk the perimeter between the corners.
"What? It's not?" Sam said with a frown.
"Yarrow's been used for centuries across the world but almost always for protection and health, usually white yarrow. There's some..." She crouched near a collection of the flowers, "weird folklore about using it to find a husband but, you know, probably not what we're looking at here. That said, if we're looking at a summoning ritual, could be someone added it based on oral tradition. Or maybe to keep something in line, hard to know."
Mae stood back up and walked over to Sam and Dean.
Dean made a little enigmatic laugh, "So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's."
"Where there just happens to be a crossroads. You think?"
"Let's find out."
The trio walked out to the middle of the crossroads, looking around as he tried to assess the center. "This seem about the dead center to you?
A quick trip to the trunk of the Impala and Dean was back in the crossroads digging. After he made it a few inches into the packed gravel and soil until the shovel it something solid. "Yahtzee."
He dropped the shovel to dig further with his hands until he pulled out an old, rusted box. When he opened it, they all peered inside. There was an assortment of items, including small bones and a stoppered jar. Sam picked it up. "I'd be willing to bet that's graveyard dirt. And a black cat bone."
"Probably hair, urine, blood too. A taglock." Mae added.
Sam crinkled his nose up as he put the bottle back in the box.
"That's serious spell-work. I mean, that's Deep South hoodoo stuff." Dean said.
"Used to summon a demon."
Dean closed the box back up and stood. "Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good."
Mae frowned, studying Dean's face a moment. She knew what was going through his mind right then and it had nothing to do with this job. She placed a hand gently on his forearm. He didn't brush her away like she assumed it might but it did nothing to ease the firm crease of his brow.
Sam continued. "They're seeing dogs, all right. But not Black Dogs, they're seeing hell hounds. Demonic pit bulls. Guess you were right, Red."
"Yeah, whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough."
They walked back to the car and put the shovel in the trunk. "So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right?" Sam asked, "I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?"
"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music." Sam's face was a blank before he frowned and shook his head, "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's, there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?" Sam still didn't show any signs of recognition and Dean rolled his eyes, "The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs."
"And now it's happening all over again."
Dean's brows raised in agreement. "Yeah."
"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here." Sam said.
"Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal. And Mae said it before, there's nothing we can do to stop hell hounds, especially if they're collecting on a deal. You know how to undo a deal with a demon, Red?"
Mae pressed her lips together. "No. I don't even know how we'd figure that out. It's not like a demon is gonna tell us that. You know, whoever else might have made a deal with this one, who knows how much time we have to figure it out."
"You're both fine with this? We should just leave them to die?"
"I just don't know what we could do." Mae sighed, "There are just some things that you can't undo Sam."
"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?"
"Dean."
Dean dropped his head, breaking eye contact. "Alright. Mae, what do you wanna do here."
"What exactly do you think we could do here? I- I don't know that we can undo someone else's deal." Then she sighed. "But, I guess we're here and we might as well try. Worst case scenario, we waste a day or two and people who were going to die if we weren't here die anyway."
It wasn't the response Dean expected but since Sam and Mae seemed on board to some extent, he'd go along with it. "Fine. Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right?" He plucked the photo out of the box. "So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive."
Dean headed towards the bar, Mae close on his heels but Sam stood back, trying to figure out what exactly his brother was thinking.
"Hey, you're a little hot here." Mae said, delicately.
"Diggin' up some hoodoo got you all turned on Maeby?"
She frowned. "That's not what I mean."
"You're the one who wanted to do this job even though we should just let these people face their choices."
"And you wanna pretend that's all this is for you?"
"Yep. You want a therapy session, go talk to Sam and let me work."
There was a photo inside the box and it didn't take long in the bar to get a name, which lead them to a shabby apartment building. They took the wide stairs up to the fourth floor.
"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked.
"George Darrow. Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?"
"Yeah. So whatever kind of deal he made..."
"Wasn't for cash. Oh, who knows. Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis." Sam and Mae both sighed, "No, I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun."
"And that's what you'd ask for?" Mae said, her tone half joking, half serious.
"Not if I talk you into a metal bikini first." The way Dean looked her up and down, very obviously picturing her in one and then out, made a slight blush rise on her cheeks.
"I'm right here." Sam protested.
For Sam's sake and sanity, they reach the landing and stopped in front of apartment 4C. Curiously, they noted the floor was dusted with a fine black powder.
"Look at that." Sam said.
They both crouched down, fingering the substance.
"What is that, pepper?"
"Do you boys just stick your fingers in everything? That's-"
The opening door cut Mae off. On the other side was the man in the picture, just older, in a grimy t-shirt and open button down. "Who the hell are you?"
Dean and Sam stood back up. "George Darrow?"
"I'm not buying anything." The man grumbled.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, looks like you went for the wrong shaker there." Dean said, then chuckled just a bit, "Usually when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt."
George looked between the three younger people. "I don't know what you talkin' about."
"Talkin' about this." Dean held up the picture that they had removed from the crossroads box, "Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?"
"Look. We want to help. Please. Just five minutes." Sam asked.
Since they seemed to know something about his deal, after a moment's hesitation, George let the trio inside. His apartment was cluttered with a variety of dusty items on shelves and several paintings in various stages of completion. George poured himself a glass of whiskey.
"So what is that stuff out front?" Sam asked
"Goofer dust." Mae nodded as she survived the room but Sam and Dean looked at George blankly, "What, you boys think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?
Dean caught the brown sack George tossed at him. "Well, we know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous."
"What is it?" Sam asked.
"Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons."
"Demons we know." Dean said.
"Well, then. Maybe it'll do you some good." George walked over to his chair. "Four minutes left."
"Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble."
"Yeah, that you got yourself into." Dean added.
"But it's not hopeless, all right? There's gotta be something we can do."
"Listen. I get that you boys want to help." He sat in the chair with his drink, which gave a small squeak of protest. "But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place."
"What'd you do it for?"
"I was weak." George said, his eyes drifting over to the tall redhead as she paused in front of a painting, "I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just... I just never thought about the price."
"Was it worth it?" Dean asked.
"Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want."
Mae finally spoke up as she turned back to George. "I don't know. This one is... compelling."
It was a smaller piece, a portrait of pretty woman with dark hair against a darker background, her express a mix between ecstasy and fear. A soft gold halo seemed to glow behind her head.
"I don't need your pity, lady."
She shook her head. "No pity here. What's the point of lying to a dead man?" something in her tone made George laugh, short, low, and self-deprecating. "I like it." Mae said.
"Then it's yours if you want it."
"What do I owe you?"
"It's not like your money is gonna do me any good, Red."
Despite herself, she smirked a little when he said that. "Well, maybe I have something that will." Setting the painting back down, she opened her messenger bag and after digging inside a moment, pulled out a baggie with some pale, round looking strands of something neither Sam nor Dean could identify. She placed it on the table beside George who looked at it, then back up at her considering, and nodded. "So, you were talking about the deal you made with the demon. Any striking features or anything you remember."
"No, just a beautiful woman. But that deal I mean, that wasn't the worst.
"Go on." Sam said.
"Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?"
"How many others are there?"
"Uh, the architect, that doctor lady — I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous."
"Who else, George? Come on, think." Dean said.
"One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for."
"No. No, there's gotta be a way."
George was dismissive. "You don't get it! I don't want a way!" He set his drink down.
"Look, you don't -"
Angrily, he cut Sam's protest off, standing up now. "I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time. Okay, boys. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help."
"We can't just —"
"Get out!" George ordered, "I got work to do."
"You don't really want to die." Sam plead.
"I don't? I'm... I'm tired." George said.
He was done speaking with them and he went back to painting so the hunters left.
"Seriously, you liked the painting?" Dean said, skeptically as he looked over at Mae as they walked back down the apartment stairs towards the car.
"Yeah, I mean, he is talented and, I don't know, maybe it's a little easier to go knowing at least one person liked his work."
There was something sweet about her, Dean thought as he looked at her profile, even if he didn't agree with her on any of this. "Except he's still going to hell Mae."
"And you heard him. He doesn't want our help. That leaves us with one more chance, as far as we know. Besides, you're the one who's been going on about how they brought this on themselves. Maybe you're right and there's no reason we should go to the trouble of fixing it? George sure agrees. You should be thrilled."
He wasn't and frowned. Before they could go back and forth any more, Sam jumped in. "What was that stuff you gave him?"
"Devil's shoe string."
"Oh, yeah, naturally. Who wouldn't know that Sammy?" Dean asked sarcastically.
"George did. Anyway it might keep the hellhounds at bay a little longer, with the goofer dust. It's a pretty clever trick actually. I'm not sure I would have thought to use it that way."
"What way?" Sam asked.
"It's not strictly a protective formula; it's more commonly used in laying tricks to cause victims to have bad luck, illness, even death. Some folks say it can cause a victim's legs to swell and no doctor can pin point a cause. So... maybe you can lay foot tricks on a hellhound, at least for a while."
Sam and Dean exchanged a confused but still approving look behind Mae's back. "I think your girlfriend's a witch."
"Yeah. But she's hot so, you know...let the lady be a witch."
A/N- Please consider leaving a review if you've read this far. ~ Nyxie