344Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise; the original concept of this story was inspired by 'To Hell & Back' by EventRider87, but I've added my own spin to things and have received EventRider87's permission to use their idea for this
Feedback: Much appreciated
The Corrupted Innocent
Standing in the junkyard behind Bobby's house, watching as Bobby talked with Castiel about how to use a gun, Bela couldn't stop herself smiling at the sight. She appreciated that the situation wasn't 'funny' by any definition, and she sincerely hoped that Castiel would be able to hold his own in the end, but there was still something darkly amusing about seeing the angel so out of his depth…
"Well," Dean said, looking over at Sam, Castiel and Ellen with a grim smile. "Good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse."
"Good luck killing Death," Sam responded, before he shook his head with a bemused smile. "You remember when we used to just… hunt wendigos? How simple things were?"
"Not really," Dean observed, before grinning over at Deanna and Bela. "But hey, if everything had stayed simple, we wouldn't have these girls here."
"Girls?" Deanna countered with a raised eyebrow and a nonchalant grin. "Is that any way to talk to your grandmother?"
"On the topic of dealing with weird shit," Crowley put in as he handed Dean a small scythe, "you'll be needing this; Death's own."
"Capable of killing everything, I take it?" Bela asked as she looked at the weapon in Dean's hands.
"Demons, angels, reapers, and rumour has it, the very thing itself."
"How did you get that?" Castiel cut in.
"Hello; King of the Crossroads," Crowley grinned. "So shall we? Bobby, you just gonna sit there?"
"No, I'm gonna riverdance," Bobby retorted with a bitter sarcasm.
"I suppose if you want to impress the ladies," Crowley shrugged, grinning as the group stared at him; personally Bela wondered if Crowley was just trying to remind them that he was a demon and thus a complete dick. "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, you really wanted that crossroads deal? Fact; you get more if you phrase it properly, so I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub-a-clause on your behalf."
"Wait a minute…" Bela looked at Crowley. "Are you saying that you-?"
"I'm an altruist," Crowley grinned. "Just gonna sit there?"
As Bobby carefully moved his legs, stepping out of his chair for the first time in almost a year, Bela clenched her fists in her jacket pocket. She wasn't fool enough to believe that Crowley had actually done this in some spirit of altruism- most likely he'd just given Bobby his legs back to stop any of them just trying to break the contract so it wouldn't cost Bobby his legs all over again- but at least this gave Bobby the ability to get back in the game rather than stay on the side.
"Right then," she said, after the older male hunter had awkwardly thanked the King of the Crossroads for his restored legs, "I'll just wait here and hold the fort, shall I?"
"You aren't coming along?" Crowley looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"If you expect me to believe that my former father knew why I'd be staying out of this and you don't, you're not as connected as you want us to think you are," Bela pointed out.
"Touché," Crowley grinned.
"And if you even think-" Dean began as he raised the scythe in Crowley's direction.
"You really think I'd do anything to a baby?" Crowley looked at the eldest Winchester with what seemed to be a genuinely wounded expression. "I'm evil, but I'm not sadistic; where's the point in doin' anything to drag a kid into Hell?"
"Just remember that," Bobby said, eyes narrowing as he looked at Crowley. "If you change your mind, I don't give a crap 'bout my legs if it keeps that kid safe from you."
"Understood," Crowley raised his hands with a smile. "Hands off the kid post-Apocalypse; no problem."
"Good," Bela joined the others in glaring over at Crowley. "Because be assured, I will never let anything that would hurt my daughter live."
"Let's stop for pizza."
"Pizza?" Deanna glared at Crowley as Dean sat in silence in the driver's seat; after spending the last few hours driving to Chicago with the King of Hell riding shotgun, neither of them were feeling particularly patient with his smug attitude. "Are you serious?"
"I heard good things," Crowley grinned. "Right now, you want to keep an eye on that big building up there."
"Death's there?" Dean asked. "How do you know?"
"Block's squirming with reapers," Crowley grinned. "I'll be right back."
The demon disappeared from his seat, but then reappeared a moment later. "Boy, is my face red; Death's not in there."
"Not in there?" Deanna glared at the demon king. "You dragged us into a city that's about to destroyed, and now you don't know where Death is?"
"Signs pointed," Crowley observed. "I'm just as shocked as you are."
"After Bobby sold his soul to help you track this guy down?" Dean protested.
"Relax," Crowley
"All deals are soul back or store credit; we'll catch Death in the next-"
"We'll catch him here," Deanna cut him off, drawing Ruby's old knife and holding it to Crowley's neck with a warning glare. "We are not leaving this city to get destroyed, so you are going to find Death for us."
"I'll… see what I can do," Crowley grinned awkwardly at the woman. "Just… give me a moment."
The demon vanished from the car again, leaving Dean and Deanna to look uncomfortably at each other before the car suddenly jolted, leaving the Impala on the side of a street further in the city. The two hunters barely had time to look around before they saw Crowley standing in front of a pizzeria a few doors down, staring solemnly at it for a moment before he turned to look at the Impala with a particularly pointed stare.
"Death's there?" Dean glanced at his grandmother.
"That seems likely," Deanna nodded at him. "You're sure that-?"
"Only got one scythe," Dean indicated the weapon in his hand as he reached for the car door, pausing to look back at the older woman. "If I don't come back…"
"Your daughter will know," Deanna smiled at him.
With that tentative exchange, Dean swallowed and headed for the pizzeria, walking cautiously through the door after a brief glare from Crowley was enough to confirm that the demon wouldn't be joining him for this particular stage. The sight of what looked like a dead waitress behind the cover was far from encouraging even before he saw the diners slumped over another table, but he cautiously made his way further into the restaurant, until he saw a figure sitting solemnly in the middle of the room, dressed all in black. Dean moved towards the table as quietly as possible, but a strange building heat in his hand forced him to drop the weapon before he could actually use it.
"Thanks for returning that," the black-clad figure observed coolly, the scythe now lying on the table beside the other man. "Join me, Dean. The pizza's delicious. Sit down."
With nothing else to do, Dean moved forward, fighting the urge to scream before he took a seat opposite Death. Face-to-face, the Horseman put Dean more in mind of War than the other two; where Famine and Pestilence had actually looked hungry and sick, Death looked thin and pale, but only in the sense of a man who didn't eat much or see the sun that often, rather than looking like he was on the verge of death.
"Took you long enough to find me," Death said, cutting away at a piece of pizza pie. "I've been wanting to talk to you."
"I got to say…" Dean said, unsure where he should take this particular conversation; of all the scenarios he'd envisioned, being alive the minute after Death disarmed him hadn't been high on the list. "I have mixed feelings about that. S-so is this the part where… where you kill me?"
"You have an inflated sense of your importance," Death said, taking a sip of a drink. "To a thing like me, a thing like you, well...Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky. This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you."
When Death put it that way, Dean decided not to say anything about his grandmother unless Death directly brought it up; they hadn't exactly 'cheated' Death by saving her, but it probably wasn't worth talking about it.
"Eat," Death indicated the pizza, placing a piece on the plate in front of him. Lost for a better response, Dean took a bite of the offered slice, unsure if it would be fatal or not up to the point where he put it in his mouth. "Good, isn't it?"
"Well… I got to ask," Dean looked curiously at Death; if he was in this position, it could be interesting to get a few answers to the big questions. "How old are you?"
"As old as God," Death responded, turning his attention back to the food. "Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless… at the end, I'll reap him, too."
"God?" Dean said. "You'll reap God?"
"Oh yes," Death replied. "God will die, too, Dean."
"Well…" Dean said. "This is way above my pay grade."
"Just a bit."
"So, then why am I still breathing, sitting here with you? W-what do you want?"
"The leash around my neck… off," Death answered. "Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you; I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."
"He's… Lucifer's actually that much younger than you?" Dean asked, suddenly curious. "I mean… is Darwin right, or is it the Bible?"
"Six of one, half a dozen of the other," Death shrugged. "Life evolved as science records, but God gave it the shove to develop spiritually, rather than just exist, a few thousand years back."
"OK…" Dean said, filing that point away for later discussion with his family before he decided to confront the more immediate topic. "So… if you're bound to Lucifer… why are we just talking?"
"You can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun," Death explained, as he held up his right hand with the white-gemmed ring on it. "I understand you want this? I'm inclined to give it to you."
"In exchange for what?" Dean asked.
"Insightful," Death nodded at him.
"I've been dating a thief who specialised in supernatural artefacts for the last couple of years; you get used to understanding deals with that kinda experience," Dean observed. "So what's the deal, and what about-?"
"Chicago?" Death finished, with a thoughtful shrug as he took the ring off. "I suppose it can stay… I like the pizza. All you have to do… is whatever it takes to put Lucifer back in his cell."
"Of course."
"Whatever it takes."
"That's the plan."
"No plan," Death shook his head slightly. "Not yet. Your brother is your best chance to stop Lucifer."
"You think-?"
"I know," Death cut Dean off. "I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit. Do I have your word?"
"…OK, yeah," Dean said.
"That had better be 'yes', Dean; tricking time is one thing, but cheating me is another matter entirely," Death said, with a particularly intense stare in his eyes as he held out the ring. "Now, would you like the instruction manual?"
Dean had no idea if this was good or bad, but as Death started to explain exactly how the four rings would re-open the Cage, he decided to focus on the immediate goal; Sam wasn't exactly stupid, but he just couldn't accept that this was the only way out…
The drive back to the salvage yard was silent, Deanna looking at her grandson in contemplation while Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to ignore the slight weight in his pocket or focus on the fact that he'd actually met with Death and survived. When they reached Bobby's house, Bela was alone, but she'd confirmed that the others had survived the assault on Niveus and were coming back in safety. They had almost missed the vaccine being deployed, but an impulsive assault had managed to turn the tables on the demons and the Croatoan-infected employees quickly enough, while Sam had even managed to retrieve a few civilians from the warehouse.
OK, so Cas confirmed that Adam's now in the game as Michael's meatsuit, and I really don't want to think about the demon blood factor, but if we're going to work with that…
"And that's it?" Bela looked at the four rings lying on the table in front of them, War's ring in the centre while the other three latched on to it in a triangular pattern, their gemstones pointing inwards. "This and a spell, and… we're done?"
"Should probably give Gabe a ring to be sure what to expect, but yeah, that's it," Dean said, carefully picking up his beer bottle as he sat beside Bela, his own gaze fixed on the rings even as his ears heard the others talking further down the yard. "One problem solved… now there's just the whole part where we have to let Sam condemn himself to Hell for all eternity to save the world."
"You don't think you can do that?"
"I think we all know that when it comes to a choice between family and the rules, Winchesters always end up at least trying to break the rules," Dean said, reaching over to pull Bela towards him, giving her a brief kiss before he turned back to study the rings. "But on the other hand… Sam's right; we don't have a better plan, and if Sam's making the choice…"
"You can't protect him forever, huh?"
"Not when I've got something else to start keeping an eye on." Dean placed a hand on Bela's stomach, unsure if he felt something move under his hand or if he was just over-thinking things.
"You do know that if you turn into an over-protective dad that girl is going to kick you when she gets old enough?" Bela smiled. "With all those stubborn Winchester genes…"
"Like you're not going to give her a good share of stubborn yourself?"
"Touché," Bela grinned, leaning over to give Dean a brief peck on the lips before she looked at him more seriously. "You think he can do this?"
"For what it's worth," Bobby put in as he walked over to join them, a grim smile on the older hunter's face, "I think he could pull it off."
"Really?"
"Look," Bobby said, looking solemnly between his foster son and the woman he was starting to consider a daughter, "if Death thinks Sam should say 'Yes'… I mean, think of that kind of bird's-eye view."
"I get that he says he doesn't want to work for the winged dick, but if this doesn't work…"
"And what if it does?" Bobby countered. "I mean, I'm not sayin' that Sam ain't an ass-full of character defects, but… back at Niveus, I watched that kid pull out one civilian after another, saving ten people and never stoppin, never slowin' down. Sarah an' Deanna've helped him calm his confidence issues, but that kid's been runnin' into burnin' buildings since he was, what, twelve?"
"Pretty much," Dean conceded; it certainly sounded like the time John Winchester had started to let Sam accompany them on hunts, anyway.
"I get that he's had his dark moments, but he's also had a lotta good in 'im too," Bobby affirmed. "If anyone's gonna beat the Devil… well, if Sam can't do it, he'll die tryin', and that's the best we could ask for right now."
Glancing over at Bela, Dean wondered what the woman was thinking when she looked at him in that strangely contemplative manner, her fingers flexing as though she was imagining holding on to something, but soon decided it wasn't worth asking her about; he trusted that Bela would tell him what she was thinking if the opportunity came up.
Right now, he had to face the point Bobby was trying to make; if the choice was to lose the world or lose Sam, they had to at least take the chance that the second option would work.
