gavemea_45 | [AU] dark gonna catch me here

He nods. "I'm gonna try talking to it first. It should be able to release Dean from the contract. If that doesn't work, then we can blow it back to hell."

Sam leads the way to the center of the crossroads, where he crouches down and scrapes gravel and dirt aside to make a hole in the very center. He puts the metal box in the middle and shoves the dirt back over it.

She keeps her hand down, Peacemaker flat against her hip, her finger off the trigger, and watches as Sam buries the box of little offerings to whatever demonic asshole is hanging around. "Well, well, well."

The voice comes from behind them both. Wynonna spins to see a woman in a sleek black dress, her hair cut in a stylish bob. "Little Sammy Winchester," the demon says, and smiles.

He turns, fast, and glares at the crossroads demon as her eyes flash a bloody red. "I'm touched," she purrs. "I mean, your brother's been to see me twice now, but you? I never had the pleasure. And you even brought a friend."

The demon's interested glance travels over Wynonna, up and down. "She doesn't seem like your type."

"Yeah, well, at least I don't have a raging case of conjunctivitis and a demon using me for a hand puppet."

Her fingers tighten on Peacemaker. "So, you know, I'll take my wins where I can get them."

The demon smiles again, canting her head just slightly before her gaze flicks back to Sam. "Well, you've called me out," she says, spreading her hands, her tone conversational. "So, what can I do for you, Sam?"

"You can let Dean out of his contract," Sam tells her, through gritted teeth.

The demon smiles, a smile as bright and sharp as a knife. "Oh, well, that's easy. No. Anything else?"

"I'd drop the wisecracks if I were you." His own glance flicks to Wynonna, just for an instant, before he focuses back on the demon. "You could try begging for your life, instead."

Wynonna shifts as the demon follows Sam's glance and looks her way, Peacemaker coming up to shoulder level with one smooth, well-practiced motion.

The demon's eyebrows lift, and then she laughs. "And we were having such a nice conversation, too."

"I'm not really much of a talker," Wynonna informs her. "You should go ahead and do what the nice man asks."

"Aw. That's cute," the demon says. "But that's not the original Colt. Where did you even get that thing?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Sam says. "You should be more scared."

"Don't listen to the bad lady, baby," Wynonna tells Peacemaker. "She just doesn't know you yet."

She doesn't cock the gun just yet, waiting on Sam's signal, but her finger is itching to blow this bitch back to Hell where she belongs. Or wherever demons go when they die. She doesn't honestly give a shit.

"Scared isn't really my style," the demon tells Sam, with a slight shrug, and turns back to scrutinize Wynonna a lot more closely than before. "That's a new meat suit for you, darling. It is you, isn't it?"

"First you don't know my gun, now you say you know me," Wynonna says, dry. "Make up your mind. And, honestly, if I were you? I'd be paying a whole lot more attention to what he's saying, if you want to live long enough to keep making stupid remarks."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, you are such a pain in my ass. Don't worry, you'll get what's coming to you soon enough."

"That's enough," Sam interrupts, sharply. "Pay attention. We're here to make you an offer."

The demon spins around to give Sam an incredulous stare. "You? You're making me an offer? Aw, sweetie, that's just adorable."

Sam ignores that. His expression is as flat as his tone. "Here's the terms. You let Dean out of his deal, right now. He lives, I live, she lives... and you live. Everyone goes home happy. If you don't, you stop breathing. Permanently."

The demon's mouth forms an o, half surprised, half delighted. "All this tough talk," she purrs. "I have to tell you, it's not very convincing."

"No?" Wynonna thumbs back the hammer. Peacemaker's chamber rotates with a smooth click. "You know what might be convincing? A bullet in your skull."

The demon scoffs and turns back to Sam. "I mean, come on Sam. Do you even want to break the deal?"

Sam sneers. "What do you think?" he snaps.

She spreads her hands. "I don't know, that's why I asked. Aren't you tired of cleaning up Dean's messes? Of dealing with that broken psyche of his? Aren't you tired of being bossed around like a snot-nosed little brother?"

His hands clench into fists at his sides, so hard that his nails break skin. He's breathless with rage as he glares at her.

Even if he doesn't exactly like how bossy Dean can be sometimes, that doesn't mean he wants him gone, much less dead. Keep it together, he tells himself. Don't let her see that she's hit a nerve.

You're stronger than Dean," the demon continues, sashaying a step closer. "You're better than him."

Peacemaker doesn't waver, not even as the demon's words strike them both.

Why'd you even come back, Wynonna?

Haven't the people who love you suffered enough?

I love you, Wynonna, but you're as broken as they come.

Search your heart, Wynonna. Who have you hurt the most?

Wave, just say it. Say it.
I should be the heir!

Yeah, you should.
I'm sorry.
I forgive you.

Her jaw tightens. "You should think carefully about what you say next."

Demons lie. That's the truism, the credo, the simple fact upon which they build all their lives. It's like he'd told Jo when she asked -- even when there's truth mixed in, it's just there to make things worse.

Sometimes a lot worse. Like now.

"Like Wynonna said. You watch your goddamn mouth." Each word shivers with fury. She rolls her eyes.

"Come on, Sam, you can admit it. You're here with your girlfriend, going through the motions. But truth is, you'll be a tiny bit relieved when he's gone. No more desperate, sloppy, needy Dean. You can finally be free ... to live the life you always wanted."

"Shut up!" Sam lashes back at her. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! I had a life without Dean in it, and you know what? It fucking sucked!"

She smiles at him, bloody eyes bright. "I think you're protesting too much, if you ask me."

"No one asked you." Sam moves to stand beside Wynonna, clearing the way for her shot. "Enough bullshit. You let Dean out of his deal. Right now. Or else."

"Sorry sweetheart," the demon says, poison-sweet. "But your brother's an adult. He made that deal of his own free will, fair and square. It's ironclad."

"No deal's that good," Wynonna informs her. "And I guess if we clear you out of the way, it's broken anyway. So why don't I do just that?"

She laughs in their faces. "Guess again."

"What's so funny?" Sam demands. The demon shrugs. "Listen, Sam, I'm just a saleswoman. I got a boss like everybody. That's who holds the contract, not me. And honey, my boss really wants Dean's soul. Your brother's not going anywhere but hell."

He can feel the blood drain from his face at the confidence in her voice. "You're bluffing."

She has to be. Doesn't she?

"Am I?" The demon steps a little closer to Wynonna, staring down Peacemaker's barrel, fearless and smug. "Shoot me, if it'll get you off. But the deal still holds, and when Dean's time is up, he's getting dragged into the pit."

"Then I guess we don't need you either way," Wynonna mutters, but she holds off on shifting her finger to the trigger. For now.

It's hard for him to hear over the sudden ringing in his ears. He'd been so sure this would work, but what if she's not lying? "Who's your boss? Who holds the contract?"

She shrugs again, deliberately drawing attention to her figure. "No one as cuddly as me, I can tell you that."

"Who is it?" The question cracks through the air like a whip, edged with all the agony and desperation he's feeling. For a second as it hangs there between them, Sam could almost swear he sees a flicker of sympathy in the demon's eyes. She drops her insouciant attitude and shakes her head.

"I can't tell you. I'm sorry, Sam, I really am. But you're going to have to accept that there's no way out. Not this time."

Ice chills his blood, even as his voice hardens. "Then I guess we don't need you."

Edited 2023-02-10 00:50 (UTC)

The finality in his voice is all she needs. Wynonna shifts, bringing Peacemaker up even with the demon's forehead as she curls her finger lovingly against the trigger.

"I'd tell you to make your peace," she says, as the gun's muzzle begins to glow, orange and molten. The demon's eyes narrow, then widen, as strange sigils illuminate along the barrel like they've been seared into it. "But I don't think that's going to be an option for you."

The crack of Peacemaker's shot breaks through the air like thunder, and a tiny hole appears in the demon's head. She shudders, light flaring through her skin, then falls back. No portal to the pit opens up, flames licking at her feet to drag her to Hell – she just drops. A thin plume of smoke rises from her forehead.

The silence around them feels almost like a scream.

The crackle and flash of Peacemaker's power burns under the demon's skin the same way he's seen with the Colt both he and Dean know, then winks out along with the demon's existence... and the life of the woman she'd been riding.

Sam stares down at the body in grim silence, shoving his guilt away. They'd had to be sure. He'd had to be sure. She was probably damaged enough not to live through it anyway, the same way Meg had been, and half of the people the Sins had possessed. Probably.

After a second or two longer, he glances at Wynonna. "I've got salt and gasoline in the car." Low and a little unsteady, but determined. "You can wait there while I take care of the body."

She stares down at the shell that's left, thinking not of this demon, but of the rev that had possessed Shorty, trying like hell to get out of the Triangle.

There's no way of knowing if the woman she'd killed was bad, or good, or dying, or begging to be released. A dull knot tightens in the pit of her stomach, but she shakes her head. "I'll help."

He searches her face to be sure she means it, then nods. Sam pulls out the keys to the Impala and passes them over. "Gas can strapped to one side," he says, succinctly. "Bag of salt on the other. Bring it to the far end of the building. I'll meet you there."

Not waiting for an answer, he crouches down to pick up the dead woman's body.

She wonders what Dolls would think. She knows what Waverly would think. Wynonna slides Peacemaker back into her boot and heads back to the car.

The trunk opens with a creak, and she braces it with one hand while retrieving first the gas, then the bag of salt. Closing and locking it back up again, she hauls both to the spot where Sam's waiting.

She doesn't ask if the woman could have been saved. What good would it do either of them for him to answer?

She's heavier than she looks - or she is now, at least. There's a reason they call it 'dead weight', after all.

Sam lays her down carefully on the concrete pad, arranging her arms and legs with as much dignity as possible and sweeping his hand down over her eyes to make sure they're all the way closed. He doesn't even know for sure what color they were when not red. Brown, he thinks, but he doesn't check.

He nods thanks to Wynonna when she reaches him and takes the salt first. It scatters over the body like a strange snowfall.

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