What Is Twisted Cannot Be Straightened (3/4)
Continued from Part 2
Their next couple of cases are routine, which gives them both a chance to get back into the swing of things, and better yet, Jimmy doesn’t have to heal anybody. And that gives Jimmy a chance to heal up as much as he ever does. The dark circles under his eyes aren’t quite so noticeable, his hands are steady, and his eyes are clear.
Sam gives them a call about the crop circles and the fairies, but claims he doesn’t need their help because he’s got Gwen with him. So, Dean and Jimmy head for Detroit, where rumors of a lamia are running wild in Greektown.
The lamia throws herself at Dean, and Jimmy shoots it and then cuts its head off with his hunting knife.
“Dude,” Dean murmurs. “When did you turn scary?”
Jimmy grins at him, his white teeth stark against the blood on his face. “About the time you nearly got turned. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all,” Dean replies, accepting Jimmy’s hand up.
That night, Dean rides Jimmy until they’re both boneless and sated. Jimmy’s fucked up wrists make other positions difficult at best, but Dean doesn’t mind. He’s a master at working with what he’s got, and Jimmy uses his hands to good effect during their coupling.
Later, after they’ve both cleaned up, Dean hauls Jimmy close, spooning up behind him, burying his face in Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy closes his hand over Dean’s, and that’s all the assurance Dean needs.
The next day, they start following the trail of a pair of ghouls that have been causing all kinds of chaos. Dean hates ghouls, and with good reason-they can shapeshift, they’re immune to silver and holy water, and they’re a pain in the ass to kill.
Plus, there was that thing with Adam, and Dean still wishes that had turned out differently.
Of course, if his dad had just told them about Adam, maybe he and Sam could have done something to save him, although Dean doesn’t know what that would be.
When they come up against yet another dead end, Dean slams into the abandoned house where they’ve holed up. “We’ll find them,” Jimmy says, closing the door gently behind him. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“And meanwhile they kill more people,” Dean snaps. “This is the third town they’ve been in.”
Jimmy gives Dean a look, but he doesn’t argue. He just puts a grease-stained bag on the table and starts pulling out their burgers and fries. “We’ll eat and then start looking again.”
Dean slams his fist against the window sash. “We don’t even know where to start.”
“So, we’ll eat, and then we’ll get a drink,” Jimmy replies. “Maybe we’ll pick up some information there. You should eat before it gets cold.” He pauses. “Colder, anyway.”
Dean sits and picks up his burger, then puts it back down again. “Sorry.”
Jimmy smiles. “I’ve been angry, too, Dean.”
Dean takes a large bite and doesn’t bother replying. When he’s chewed and swallowed, he says, “I’ve been trying to come up with a way to get Sam his soul back, and I’m coming up empty.”
Jimmy chews thoughtfully. “If Castiel can’t do it, you’ll need the help of someone who can get in and out of Hell.”
Dean grimaces. “Which means we’ll either have to make a deal with a high-level demon, God, or something else entirely.”
A thought occurs to Dean then, of someone-something-that might be able to get Sam’s soul out of the cage. He’s just not sure how he’s going to manage it.
Jimmy’s eyes narrow. “You have an idea.”
“Maybe, but first we need to deal with these ghouls,” Dean replies. “I need to think about it a little longer.”
Jimmy nods, apparently content with that explanation for now.
They finish eating in companionable silence and stuff their trash back into the paper sack. “You still want to get that drink?” Dean asks.
“I could use a beer,” Jimmy allows.
They hit the nearest bar, which consists of a long, narrow room with a scarred wooden floor and wood-paneled walls. The floor is sticky, and both the tables and the bar have a film on them, but the glass that holds Dean’s whiskey is clean, and Jimmy’s beer comes in a bottle.
Dean sips slowly. For now, they’re on the job, and he’s still hoping to get some information on the ghouls. People talk in bars, and this one is no different.
He and Jimmy eavesdrop on various conversations and chat with the bartender, who talks willingly between drink orders. From her, they learn that one of the morticians who works at the main funeral home in town had drunkenly confessed that they’d been having some trouble with the bodies-specifically, they’ve been drained of blood before the mortician could embalm them.
Jimmy whips out his phone after the bartender shares that piece of information and looks up the local funeral homes. “I think I’ve got a candidate,” Jimmy says. “Do you want to check it out?”
“This is the best lead we’ve had yet,” Dean acknowledges. “Might as well follow up.”
Dean breaks into the funeral home with ease; the locks aren’t complicated, and there’s no alarm system to speak of. Thankfully, it’s not one of those old-fashioned funeral homes with the house attached, so they don’t have to worry about being caught out by some family member who hears a squeaky floorboard.
“No sign of a ghoul here,” Jimmy murmurs softly.
Dean walks over to the sheet-covered slab and peeks underneath the cloth. “Looks like there’s a relatively fresh body,” he replies. “We’ll stick around for a while to see if we get company.”
The room is chilly and smells of formaldehyde and decay, and they have to hide as best they can in a corner, hoping that the ghoul-or ghouls-doesn’t see them when it enters. Jimmy is shivering next to Dean, but he doesn’t voice a complaint. Dean has an impulse to wrap an arm around Jimmy, but he settles for pressing up against Jimmy.
There’s a noise from the next room, and Dean glances at Jimmy, alarmed, and they both rush out, machetes at the ready, only to find the viewing room filled with Campbells-including Sam.
It’s a curious tableau-the beige folding chairs set up in front of a raised platform that’s empty, although Dean can imagine a coffin sitting there all too easily. There are heavy drapes on the windows, and the smell of embalming fluid lingers here, too.
Sam, Samuel, Christian, and Gwen have already restrained two ghouls, and they all look surprised to see Dean and Jimmy there.
“Well, look who it is,” Christian says, recovering first. “It’s Dean and his boyfriend,” and he makes it sound like a curse.
“We were tracking a couple of ghouls,” Dean replies, not rising to the bait. “You want to tell me what you’re doing with them?”
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over,” Christian sneers.
Sam shoots him a dirty look. “Christian, stop. They’re okay.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Dean asks insistently.
Samuel smiles, although the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. “We just want to make sure there aren’t any more of them around. Don’t worry about it, Dean. We’ve got this.”
Dean isn’t ready to let this go. In his experience, hunters killed monsters; they didn’t capture them alive. “Since we’ve been tracking those ghouls of a few days, you’ll understand why I am worried about it.”
Samuel jerks his head. “Christian, Gwen, get them loaded up.”
Dean wants to protest. He wants to demand to know where Samuel is taking them, but he feels Jimmy touch his back, the movement so unobtrusive that Dean doubts anyone sees it, and he subsides.
Samuel smiles at them. “It was good to see you boys again. Let us know if we can help you out with anything. Sam?”
“Right behind you,” Sam replies. “I want to talk with with Dean and Jimmy.”
“You probably don’t want to dawdle,” Samuel advises. “That scuffle caused some noise.”
“You can come back with us,” Dean says. “Our room has two beds.”
Sam nods. “I’ll follow you then.”
When they’re in the Impala, driving back to the motel with Sam following, Dean asks, “What was that back there?”
“We need to watch them,” Jimmy says quietly. “And for that, we need Sam.”
Dean nods slowly. “You caught that, too?”
“They didn’t kill the ghouls,” Jimmy replies. “And hunters kill things.”
“And you think Sam will help us?”
Jimmy shrugs. “I think there’s still a part of him that knows you’re his brother, and he’s not quite willing to let that go yet.”
When Sam joins them in their motel room, the digital clock reads 12:24, but it feels a lot later to Dean. He’s so tired right now, all he wants is to go to bed and not wake up for a year or two.
“What the hell, Sam?” Dean asks wearily.
Sam hesitates, his expression calculating, as though he’s trying to figure out how much he can get away with hiding. “I don’t know.”
“Try again,” Dean says.
“Seriously, Dean, I don’t know,” Sam insists. “Yeah, Samuel takes monsters alive when he can, but I never asked where he takes them.”
“Can you find out?” Dean counters.
“Why does it matter?” Sam asks. “You’re not going to work with him. You don’t trust any of them. You don’t trust me.”
“Why should I?” Dean demands, nearly shouting now. “Dammit, Sam!”
“Jimmy and I worked together okay last time!” Sam counters.
“And you don’t have a soul!” Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Look, if I’m going to trust Samuel after what I just saw, I’m going to need to know where they’re taking those creatures they don’t kill.”
In truth, Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever trust Samuel or the other Campbells, but Jimmy’s right that they need Sam’s help to figure out what’s going on
Sam hesitates, and then appears to make a decision. “I can use one of the GPS trackers in their phones.”
“Do it.”
Sam has always been something of a whiz with computers, and he uses their laptop to log in and track Samuel’s cell phone. At Dean’s questioning look, Sam smiles, “I set up Samuel’s account for him.”
From there, it’s an easy matter to track Samuel and the others to Evergreen, Missouri, which is several hours away from Lancaster, where they’d found the ghouls.
Dean hadn’t expected to see Samuel handing over the ghouls to a couple of people with black eyes.
“Demons,” he hisses, mostly for Jimmy’s benefit, although he knows Jimmy can recognize a demon easily enough.
Even Sam looks a little surprised by this turn of events, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t know, Dean.”
Dean honestly isn’t sure that Sam cares whether Samuel is delivering monsters to demons, but he thinks Sam’s telling the truth about not knowing. “What would demons want with a couple of ghouls?”
Sam shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. I knew Samuel was taking them somewhere to be interrogated, but that’s it.”
There’s the distinctive sound of a shotgun shell being chambered behind them, and Christian says, “Sam, I’m surprised at you.”
“You had to know I’d find out,” Sam replies mildly as he turns to face Christian. “So, what the hell are you doing?”
Christian smiles, his eyes black. “Well, I’m inclined to fill you all full of buckshot, but we’ll see what the boss has to say.”
Dean expects Christian to lead them to Samuel, and although he does, there’s someone else there who makes him stop cold.
“Crowley,” Dean growls.
“I see you met my friend,” Crowley replies with a smile. “The name was too much of an irony to pass up, you know.”
“You bastard,” Dean says. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Crowley taunts. “For now, though, all you need to know is that I can get Sam’s soul out of the cage, and you-well, you can’t. So, I expect you to be a good little boy and play by my rules.”
Dean does a rapid mental calculation-deals with demons have never worked very well for Winchesters, and he has no idea if Crowley is pushing his buttons, or if he can really do what he’s promised. “How do I know you can get Sam’s soul back?” he demands.
“Haven’t you heard?” Crowley asks with a smug smile. “I’m the King of Hell. I can do whatever I like.”
There’s a part of Dean that wants to agree. He wants to believe that Crowley can fulfill his promise, that they can get Sam’s soul out of the Cage.
But he remembers the lengths they had to go to in order to get Bobby’s soul back, and Dean isn’t willing to take that chance, not when he has another idea that might work-even if it is about ten times more dangerous.
The truth is, Dean still trusts Death a hell of a lot more than he trusts Crowley.
“So, get Sam’s soul back right now,” Dean counters. “And we’ll owe you one.”
“That’s not how this works,” Crowley replies, rolling his eyes. “The deal is, you do what I want first. If I’m satisfied with your work, then you get your brother’s soul back.”
Jimmy keeps his mouth shut, although his eyes are wide with alarm. Dean looks at Samuel. “So, what did he promise you?”
“He said he’d bring Mary back,” Samuel replies. “Just do what he wants, Dean.”
Dean doesn’t much like being told what to do by anybody, including a grandfather whose loyalties are divided to say the least. “No,” he replies simply. “We’ll find another way, and you can get somebody else to do your dirty work.”
Crowley offers a thin smile. “You really think it’s that easy? Let me put it another way-you do what I say, and not only will I get your brother’s soul back, I’ll refrain from possessing your friend there.”
Dean’s heart is in his throat, and he opens his mouth to make threats he knows he can’t carry out, but Castiel suddenly appears, standing between Dean and Crowley. “You’ll keep your hands off them,” Castiel says in her husky voice.
Crowley sneers. “Why should I?”
“Because I know where your bones are located,” Castiel replies, and then reaches back for Dean and Jimmy. In the next moment, they’re standing by the Impala.
“Thank you,” Jimmy says, looking unfazed.
Castiel nods. “I heard your call. Crowley knows better than to harm you, but I’d stay away from him for a while. I don’t have time to constantly be coming to your rescue.”
“What about Sam?” Dean demands.
“Crowley has no interest in Sam,” Castiel replies dismissively. “He has no soul to barter, and he’s been working with Samuel, and is therefore technically in Crowley’s employ. Stay away from Crowley, Dean. I mean it.” And then he’s gone.
After a long moment, Jimmy says, “I thought you’d take him up on it.”
“Crowley can’t be trusted,” Dean replies slowly, picking out the words he wants to use, and the explanation for his decision. “He said he’d give Bobby his soul back, and you saw the kind of blackmail we had to use to make him keep that promise. If I thought he’d keep his word, I might have taken the deal.” He pauses, then adds, “And I’m not putting your soul in jeopardy.”
“I don’t like the thought of yours being for sale either,” Jimmy says.
“How did you call Cas?” Dean asks.
“Very quietly,” Jimmy replies dryly. “Castiel seems more inclined to come when I call, and I think he-she’s got a certain proprietary interest.”
“Good call,” Dean admits.
They climb into the Impala, and Jimmy says, “I take it you’ve got another idea for getting Sam’s soul back.”
“Yeah, I do,” Dean admits. “But you’re not going to like it.”
~~~~~
Jimmy doesn’t like it. He wants to exhaust all other avenues first-he wants to try wringing a promise out of Crowley-but Dean’s insistent. Crowley can’t be trusted, but Dean knows that Death has a kind of honor that means Dean can trust him. Sort of. Dean isn’t so foolish as to believe that Death has any agenda but his own.
Still, Dean believes that Death will do exactly as he promises, while Crowley will lie his ass off in order to get exactly what he wants-and Dean can make this deal on his own. Crowley’s already threatened Jimmy, and Dean isn’t about to put him in the line of fire.
Jimmy argues against Dean’s plan fiercely, finally saying, “And what if you don’t come back? What if Death decides to keep you?”
Dean’s faced death-and Death-too often to be as scared by the prospect as he probably should be, but he understands Jimmy’s fear.
That year of being without Sam has taught Dean what it means to be the one left behind; he’d certainly prefer his own death to Jimmy’s at this point.
“I don’t know,” Dean has to reply. “I know it’s risky, but this is my best chance of getting Sam’s soul out of the cage, other than working for Crowley.”
“I’m not sure that isn’t the better option,” Jimmy mutters.
Dean sits back in the rickety chair of their motel room. They’re in Omaha tonight, on their way back to Sioux Falls, and the room is decorated with a white bedspread with black splotches, like those on a cow, and there are pictures of cows on the wall.
It’s not the worst decorating job Dean has seen in his years on the road, but Dean keeps getting distracted, thinking that the splotches on the wall are moving.
“Crowley’s out of the question,” Dean insists. “He threatened you. You had to call Castiel in to save our hides!”
“And you think you can trust Death?” Jimmy counters.
“In a sense,” Dean replies. “He’s a straight shooter, at least. If he can help, he will. If he can’t, he’ll say so. Besides, you’ll be safe this way.”
“But you’re willing to throw away your own life!” Jimmy shoots back, his voice growing louder. “Did you ever stop to think that you’re just as important to me as I am to you?”
Dean grins; he can’t help it. “Yeah, I think I got that memo, Jimmy.”
Jimmy sighs and smiles reluctantly. “You’re suggesting that this guy, a friend of your father’s, kills you, then revives you. You know how insane that is, right?”
“Very,” Dean agrees readily. “But it’s also our best shot at getting Sam’s soul back, and I don’t know about you, but we can’t leave Sam’s soul in the Cage.”
“Agreed,” Jimmy says. “But Death?”
“The doctor is going to bring me back,” Dean replies with confidence he doesn’t exactly feel.
“And if he can’t, I’ll have to heal you, and you know how far I’ll go,” Jimmy says grimly.
Dean shakes his head. “I know you’re a miracle worker, Jimmy, but even you can’t bring someone back from the dead. Even with the vampire thing, I wasn’t exactly dead.”
Jimmy narrows his eyes. “Fine. Then I’ll kill the doctor, and make a deal with Crowley to bring you back. And when I get you back, I’ll kick your ass into next week.”
Dean winces, but promises, “That’s not going to happen.” He only hopes he can keep that promise, because if Jimmy has to sell his soul to get Dean back, Dean will never forgive himself.
Part 4
Their next couple of cases are routine, which gives them both a chance to get back into the swing of things, and better yet, Jimmy doesn’t have to heal anybody. And that gives Jimmy a chance to heal up as much as he ever does. The dark circles under his eyes aren’t quite so noticeable, his hands are steady, and his eyes are clear.
Sam gives them a call about the crop circles and the fairies, but claims he doesn’t need their help because he’s got Gwen with him. So, Dean and Jimmy head for Detroit, where rumors of a lamia are running wild in Greektown.
The lamia throws herself at Dean, and Jimmy shoots it and then cuts its head off with his hunting knife.
“Dude,” Dean murmurs. “When did you turn scary?”
Jimmy grins at him, his white teeth stark against the blood on his face. “About the time you nearly got turned. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all,” Dean replies, accepting Jimmy’s hand up.
That night, Dean rides Jimmy until they’re both boneless and sated. Jimmy’s fucked up wrists make other positions difficult at best, but Dean doesn’t mind. He’s a master at working with what he’s got, and Jimmy uses his hands to good effect during their coupling.
Later, after they’ve both cleaned up, Dean hauls Jimmy close, spooning up behind him, burying his face in Jimmy’s neck. Jimmy closes his hand over Dean’s, and that’s all the assurance Dean needs.
The next day, they start following the trail of a pair of ghouls that have been causing all kinds of chaos. Dean hates ghouls, and with good reason-they can shapeshift, they’re immune to silver and holy water, and they’re a pain in the ass to kill.
Plus, there was that thing with Adam, and Dean still wishes that had turned out differently.
Of course, if his dad had just told them about Adam, maybe he and Sam could have done something to save him, although Dean doesn’t know what that would be.
When they come up against yet another dead end, Dean slams into the abandoned house where they’ve holed up. “We’ll find them,” Jimmy says, closing the door gently behind him. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“And meanwhile they kill more people,” Dean snaps. “This is the third town they’ve been in.”
Jimmy gives Dean a look, but he doesn’t argue. He just puts a grease-stained bag on the table and starts pulling out their burgers and fries. “We’ll eat and then start looking again.”
Dean slams his fist against the window sash. “We don’t even know where to start.”
“So, we’ll eat, and then we’ll get a drink,” Jimmy replies. “Maybe we’ll pick up some information there. You should eat before it gets cold.” He pauses. “Colder, anyway.”
Dean sits and picks up his burger, then puts it back down again. “Sorry.”
Jimmy smiles. “I’ve been angry, too, Dean.”
Dean takes a large bite and doesn’t bother replying. When he’s chewed and swallowed, he says, “I’ve been trying to come up with a way to get Sam his soul back, and I’m coming up empty.”
Jimmy chews thoughtfully. “If Castiel can’t do it, you’ll need the help of someone who can get in and out of Hell.”
Dean grimaces. “Which means we’ll either have to make a deal with a high-level demon, God, or something else entirely.”
A thought occurs to Dean then, of someone-something-that might be able to get Sam’s soul out of the cage. He’s just not sure how he’s going to manage it.
Jimmy’s eyes narrow. “You have an idea.”
“Maybe, but first we need to deal with these ghouls,” Dean replies. “I need to think about it a little longer.”
Jimmy nods, apparently content with that explanation for now.
They finish eating in companionable silence and stuff their trash back into the paper sack. “You still want to get that drink?” Dean asks.
“I could use a beer,” Jimmy allows.
They hit the nearest bar, which consists of a long, narrow room with a scarred wooden floor and wood-paneled walls. The floor is sticky, and both the tables and the bar have a film on them, but the glass that holds Dean’s whiskey is clean, and Jimmy’s beer comes in a bottle.
Dean sips slowly. For now, they’re on the job, and he’s still hoping to get some information on the ghouls. People talk in bars, and this one is no different.
He and Jimmy eavesdrop on various conversations and chat with the bartender, who talks willingly between drink orders. From her, they learn that one of the morticians who works at the main funeral home in town had drunkenly confessed that they’d been having some trouble with the bodies-specifically, they’ve been drained of blood before the mortician could embalm them.
Jimmy whips out his phone after the bartender shares that piece of information and looks up the local funeral homes. “I think I’ve got a candidate,” Jimmy says. “Do you want to check it out?”
“This is the best lead we’ve had yet,” Dean acknowledges. “Might as well follow up.”
Dean breaks into the funeral home with ease; the locks aren’t complicated, and there’s no alarm system to speak of. Thankfully, it’s not one of those old-fashioned funeral homes with the house attached, so they don’t have to worry about being caught out by some family member who hears a squeaky floorboard.
“No sign of a ghoul here,” Jimmy murmurs softly.
Dean walks over to the sheet-covered slab and peeks underneath the cloth. “Looks like there’s a relatively fresh body,” he replies. “We’ll stick around for a while to see if we get company.”
The room is chilly and smells of formaldehyde and decay, and they have to hide as best they can in a corner, hoping that the ghoul-or ghouls-doesn’t see them when it enters. Jimmy is shivering next to Dean, but he doesn’t voice a complaint. Dean has an impulse to wrap an arm around Jimmy, but he settles for pressing up against Jimmy.
There’s a noise from the next room, and Dean glances at Jimmy, alarmed, and they both rush out, machetes at the ready, only to find the viewing room filled with Campbells-including Sam.
It’s a curious tableau-the beige folding chairs set up in front of a raised platform that’s empty, although Dean can imagine a coffin sitting there all too easily. There are heavy drapes on the windows, and the smell of embalming fluid lingers here, too.
Sam, Samuel, Christian, and Gwen have already restrained two ghouls, and they all look surprised to see Dean and Jimmy there.
“Well, look who it is,” Christian says, recovering first. “It’s Dean and his boyfriend,” and he makes it sound like a curse.
“We were tracking a couple of ghouls,” Dean replies, not rising to the bait. “You want to tell me what you’re doing with them?”
“Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over,” Christian sneers.
Sam shoots him a dirty look. “Christian, stop. They’re okay.”
“What are you going to do with them?” Dean asks insistently.
Samuel smiles, although the expression doesn’t reach his eyes. “We just want to make sure there aren’t any more of them around. Don’t worry about it, Dean. We’ve got this.”
Dean isn’t ready to let this go. In his experience, hunters killed monsters; they didn’t capture them alive. “Since we’ve been tracking those ghouls of a few days, you’ll understand why I am worried about it.”
Samuel jerks his head. “Christian, Gwen, get them loaded up.”
Dean wants to protest. He wants to demand to know where Samuel is taking them, but he feels Jimmy touch his back, the movement so unobtrusive that Dean doubts anyone sees it, and he subsides.
Samuel smiles at them. “It was good to see you boys again. Let us know if we can help you out with anything. Sam?”
“Right behind you,” Sam replies. “I want to talk with with Dean and Jimmy.”
“You probably don’t want to dawdle,” Samuel advises. “That scuffle caused some noise.”
“You can come back with us,” Dean says. “Our room has two beds.”
Sam nods. “I’ll follow you then.”
When they’re in the Impala, driving back to the motel with Sam following, Dean asks, “What was that back there?”
“We need to watch them,” Jimmy says quietly. “And for that, we need Sam.”
Dean nods slowly. “You caught that, too?”
“They didn’t kill the ghouls,” Jimmy replies. “And hunters kill things.”
“And you think Sam will help us?”
Jimmy shrugs. “I think there’s still a part of him that knows you’re his brother, and he’s not quite willing to let that go yet.”
When Sam joins them in their motel room, the digital clock reads 12:24, but it feels a lot later to Dean. He’s so tired right now, all he wants is to go to bed and not wake up for a year or two.
“What the hell, Sam?” Dean asks wearily.
Sam hesitates, his expression calculating, as though he’s trying to figure out how much he can get away with hiding. “I don’t know.”
“Try again,” Dean says.
“Seriously, Dean, I don’t know,” Sam insists. “Yeah, Samuel takes monsters alive when he can, but I never asked where he takes them.”
“Can you find out?” Dean counters.
“Why does it matter?” Sam asks. “You’re not going to work with him. You don’t trust any of them. You don’t trust me.”
“Why should I?” Dean demands, nearly shouting now. “Dammit, Sam!”
“Jimmy and I worked together okay last time!” Sam counters.
“And you don’t have a soul!” Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Look, if I’m going to trust Samuel after what I just saw, I’m going to need to know where they’re taking those creatures they don’t kill.”
In truth, Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever trust Samuel or the other Campbells, but Jimmy’s right that they need Sam’s help to figure out what’s going on
Sam hesitates, and then appears to make a decision. “I can use one of the GPS trackers in their phones.”
“Do it.”
Sam has always been something of a whiz with computers, and he uses their laptop to log in and track Samuel’s cell phone. At Dean’s questioning look, Sam smiles, “I set up Samuel’s account for him.”
From there, it’s an easy matter to track Samuel and the others to Evergreen, Missouri, which is several hours away from Lancaster, where they’d found the ghouls.
Dean hadn’t expected to see Samuel handing over the ghouls to a couple of people with black eyes.
“Demons,” he hisses, mostly for Jimmy’s benefit, although he knows Jimmy can recognize a demon easily enough.
Even Sam looks a little surprised by this turn of events, and he shakes his head. “I didn’t know, Dean.”
Dean honestly isn’t sure that Sam cares whether Samuel is delivering monsters to demons, but he thinks Sam’s telling the truth about not knowing. “What would demons want with a couple of ghouls?”
Sam shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. I knew Samuel was taking them somewhere to be interrogated, but that’s it.”
There’s the distinctive sound of a shotgun shell being chambered behind them, and Christian says, “Sam, I’m surprised at you.”
“You had to know I’d find out,” Sam replies mildly as he turns to face Christian. “So, what the hell are you doing?”
Christian smiles, his eyes black. “Well, I’m inclined to fill you all full of buckshot, but we’ll see what the boss has to say.”
Dean expects Christian to lead them to Samuel, and although he does, there’s someone else there who makes him stop cold.
“Crowley,” Dean growls.
“I see you met my friend,” Crowley replies with a smile. “The name was too much of an irony to pass up, you know.”
“You bastard,” Dean says. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Crowley taunts. “For now, though, all you need to know is that I can get Sam’s soul out of the cage, and you-well, you can’t. So, I expect you to be a good little boy and play by my rules.”
Dean does a rapid mental calculation-deals with demons have never worked very well for Winchesters, and he has no idea if Crowley is pushing his buttons, or if he can really do what he’s promised. “How do I know you can get Sam’s soul back?” he demands.
“Haven’t you heard?” Crowley asks with a smug smile. “I’m the King of Hell. I can do whatever I like.”
There’s a part of Dean that wants to agree. He wants to believe that Crowley can fulfill his promise, that they can get Sam’s soul out of the Cage.
But he remembers the lengths they had to go to in order to get Bobby’s soul back, and Dean isn’t willing to take that chance, not when he has another idea that might work-even if it is about ten times more dangerous.
The truth is, Dean still trusts Death a hell of a lot more than he trusts Crowley.
“So, get Sam’s soul back right now,” Dean counters. “And we’ll owe you one.”
“That’s not how this works,” Crowley replies, rolling his eyes. “The deal is, you do what I want first. If I’m satisfied with your work, then you get your brother’s soul back.”
Jimmy keeps his mouth shut, although his eyes are wide with alarm. Dean looks at Samuel. “So, what did he promise you?”
“He said he’d bring Mary back,” Samuel replies. “Just do what he wants, Dean.”
Dean doesn’t much like being told what to do by anybody, including a grandfather whose loyalties are divided to say the least. “No,” he replies simply. “We’ll find another way, and you can get somebody else to do your dirty work.”
Crowley offers a thin smile. “You really think it’s that easy? Let me put it another way-you do what I say, and not only will I get your brother’s soul back, I’ll refrain from possessing your friend there.”
Dean’s heart is in his throat, and he opens his mouth to make threats he knows he can’t carry out, but Castiel suddenly appears, standing between Dean and Crowley. “You’ll keep your hands off them,” Castiel says in her husky voice.
Crowley sneers. “Why should I?”
“Because I know where your bones are located,” Castiel replies, and then reaches back for Dean and Jimmy. In the next moment, they’re standing by the Impala.
“Thank you,” Jimmy says, looking unfazed.
Castiel nods. “I heard your call. Crowley knows better than to harm you, but I’d stay away from him for a while. I don’t have time to constantly be coming to your rescue.”
“What about Sam?” Dean demands.
“Crowley has no interest in Sam,” Castiel replies dismissively. “He has no soul to barter, and he’s been working with Samuel, and is therefore technically in Crowley’s employ. Stay away from Crowley, Dean. I mean it.” And then he’s gone.
After a long moment, Jimmy says, “I thought you’d take him up on it.”
“Crowley can’t be trusted,” Dean replies slowly, picking out the words he wants to use, and the explanation for his decision. “He said he’d give Bobby his soul back, and you saw the kind of blackmail we had to use to make him keep that promise. If I thought he’d keep his word, I might have taken the deal.” He pauses, then adds, “And I’m not putting your soul in jeopardy.”
“I don’t like the thought of yours being for sale either,” Jimmy says.
“How did you call Cas?” Dean asks.
“Very quietly,” Jimmy replies dryly. “Castiel seems more inclined to come when I call, and I think he-she’s got a certain proprietary interest.”
“Good call,” Dean admits.
They climb into the Impala, and Jimmy says, “I take it you’ve got another idea for getting Sam’s soul back.”
“Yeah, I do,” Dean admits. “But you’re not going to like it.”
~~~~~
Jimmy doesn’t like it. He wants to exhaust all other avenues first-he wants to try wringing a promise out of Crowley-but Dean’s insistent. Crowley can’t be trusted, but Dean knows that Death has a kind of honor that means Dean can trust him. Sort of. Dean isn’t so foolish as to believe that Death has any agenda but his own.
Still, Dean believes that Death will do exactly as he promises, while Crowley will lie his ass off in order to get exactly what he wants-and Dean can make this deal on his own. Crowley’s already threatened Jimmy, and Dean isn’t about to put him in the line of fire.
Jimmy argues against Dean’s plan fiercely, finally saying, “And what if you don’t come back? What if Death decides to keep you?”
Dean’s faced death-and Death-too often to be as scared by the prospect as he probably should be, but he understands Jimmy’s fear.
That year of being without Sam has taught Dean what it means to be the one left behind; he’d certainly prefer his own death to Jimmy’s at this point.
“I don’t know,” Dean has to reply. “I know it’s risky, but this is my best chance of getting Sam’s soul out of the cage, other than working for Crowley.”
“I’m not sure that isn’t the better option,” Jimmy mutters.
Dean sits back in the rickety chair of their motel room. They’re in Omaha tonight, on their way back to Sioux Falls, and the room is decorated with a white bedspread with black splotches, like those on a cow, and there are pictures of cows on the wall.
It’s not the worst decorating job Dean has seen in his years on the road, but Dean keeps getting distracted, thinking that the splotches on the wall are moving.
“Crowley’s out of the question,” Dean insists. “He threatened you. You had to call Castiel in to save our hides!”
“And you think you can trust Death?” Jimmy counters.
“In a sense,” Dean replies. “He’s a straight shooter, at least. If he can help, he will. If he can’t, he’ll say so. Besides, you’ll be safe this way.”
“But you’re willing to throw away your own life!” Jimmy shoots back, his voice growing louder. “Did you ever stop to think that you’re just as important to me as I am to you?”
Dean grins; he can’t help it. “Yeah, I think I got that memo, Jimmy.”
Jimmy sighs and smiles reluctantly. “You’re suggesting that this guy, a friend of your father’s, kills you, then revives you. You know how insane that is, right?”
“Very,” Dean agrees readily. “But it’s also our best shot at getting Sam’s soul back, and I don’t know about you, but we can’t leave Sam’s soul in the Cage.”
“Agreed,” Jimmy says. “But Death?”
“The doctor is going to bring me back,” Dean replies with confidence he doesn’t exactly feel.
“And if he can’t, I’ll have to heal you, and you know how far I’ll go,” Jimmy says grimly.
Dean shakes his head. “I know you’re a miracle worker, Jimmy, but even you can’t bring someone back from the dead. Even with the vampire thing, I wasn’t exactly dead.”
Jimmy narrows his eyes. “Fine. Then I’ll kill the doctor, and make a deal with Crowley to bring you back. And when I get you back, I’ll kick your ass into next week.”
Dean winces, but promises, “That’s not going to happen.” He only hopes he can keep that promise, because if Jimmy has to sell his soul to get Dean back, Dean will never forgive himself.
Part 4