Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 2, 2016 19:05:55 GMT -5
ooc; SEASON FIVE. EPISODE TWENTY.
For almost week now, ever since learning how they might be able to trap Lucifer in his cage, the boys had been on a hunt for the remaining two horsemen and, by extension, their rings. Pestilence seemed to be the easier target as all of a sudden, reports of mass illness attacks began sweeping the nation. So the boys started tracking the outbreaks as they occurred, attempting to run into Pestilence at one of them. So far it wasn't working.
~~~
"Dude, check it out, I look like the king of pop" Dean commented to his brother, both donned in white surgical masks as they made their way through yet another hospital to talk to the chief doctor. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. Dean couldn't help chuckling, despite everything. "What? Too soon?" "Too soon" Sam agreed before nudging Dean's arm to get him to sober up as the chief approached them. They shook hands, introducing themselves as agents of the CDC, there to investigate the infection. "Don't get me wrong --I'm glad the CDC is here," the chief assured them, also wearing a mask, looking weary. "But what we really need is vaccine." An infected patient wandered past Dean, sounding as though he was trying to hack up a lung. Dean made a face and stepped sideways, giving himself a wider berth from the ill. "You got that right."
Sam frowned pointedly at him before turning back to the chief. "Tell me doctor, have you noticed anything unusual about the strain --Any signs of behavioral change, like aggression, maybe?" The chief frowned in confusion. "What?" "Have the flu victims shown any signs of, uh, homicidal tendencies" Dean elaborated in clarification of Sam's rather vague question, getting straight to the point as he often did. The chief gave an awkward chuckle as if she wasn't sure if Dean was joking or not. "Uh...Symptomatically speaking, we're looking at a relatively mild case of swine flu here. Probably add up to a miserable week off of work, and that's about it." "So...nothing unusual at all" Dean pressed. The chief looked thoughtful for a minute. "Hmm. Well, day and a half ago, we didn't have a single case. Now we're looking at over 70 -- The infectious equivalent of a briefcase bomb." She shrugged. "So, yeah, I might call that a little unusual." "Day and a half" Sam echoed and it didn't take any extra prodding for Dean to realize the significance of that as well. "That's the same time those statues started crying" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Sam nodded. The chief did a double take, apparently hearing Dean even with the mask and undertone. "I'm sorry...did you just say a bunch of statues were crying?" "What??" Sam laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. "No. No. W-who would"- "Who would say that, huh" Dean finished, chuckling faintly, trying to look as though the idea of statues crying was truly absurd. "Crazy people." "Yeah" Sam agreed with an emphatic nod. "Yeah" Dean repeated, mirroring the nod. "Which we are not."
The chief studied them both for a minute with an odd expression before leaving the conversation where it was and getting back to her original point. "Just...get us some vaccine." Dean pressed his lips together with a strained smile, nodding his consent of this order, watching as she walked away. Then he nudged Sam in the arm. "Come on, let's go." They headed back outside where the Impala was parked, depositing their masks into a trash can at the door. Dean pulled his phone out of one pocket as the pair of them slid into the car and dialed Bobby's number. "Let me guess -- another steamin'-hot pile of swine flu" was Bobby's greeting the second he picked up. "Yep." Dean activated speaker phone, handed the phone to Sam, started the car and backed them out of the parking lot. "Doesn't make any sense, Bobby" Sam commented in frustration. "Pestilence touched down here. I'm sure of it." "But why is he dealing them soft serve like swine flu when he's got the croatoan virus up his sleeve" Dean added, still deeply perturbed by this fact. "I don't get it."
"Doesn't matter what the sick son of a bitch is doing" Bobby reminded them gruffly. "What matters is this is the fourth town he's hit --That we know of -- and we're still eating his dust." There was a brief pause to let that sink in before Bobby was continuing. "Did you get anything? We got even a snowball at probable next target?" "No pattern we can see" Sam admitted with a weary shake of the head. "Ok." There was the sound of a heavy sigh transmitting across the line with a burst of static before Bobby's voice returned. "Well, far as I can tell, he's still heading East, so...head East, I guess." "East" Sam echoed, the brothers exchanging a look of exasperation. "Bobby, we're in West Nevada" Dean exclaimed. "East is practically all there is!" "Better get to driving then" was Bobby's promptly curt reply followed by the static of a dead line.
Dean rolled his eyes. Sam closed the phone and placed it on the dash. "Say...I've got an idea." The sudden familiar british accent came from the previously empty back seat. Sam drew Ruby's knife in the blink of an eye, twisting around in his seat to stab Crowley. Dean gave a startled jump, swerving the car and then skidding it to a halt with screeching wheels. "You get him" he wanted to know, twisting violently in his own seat to check. It was a mark of how pissed he was at Crowley that the fact that his baby's upholstery had just been slashed with a knife and would need attending didn't even cross his mind immediately. "He's gone" Sam panted, straightening up. The sudden rap on the driver's side window caused both boys to jump again, whipping their heads around. Crowley was standing just outside the car door, smiling amicably. "Fancy a fag and a chat?" Dean wrenched open his door, advancing a step on Crowley with a murderous expression. "You're upset" Crowley observed, taking a step back, hands up. "We should discuss it. Not here, but"- "You want to talk" Dean snapped, livid. "After what you did to us??" "What I did...what I did??" Crowley looked floored. "I gave you the colt!" Sam was out of the car by this point too, stalking closer. "Yeah, and you knew it wouldn't work against the devil!" "I never" Crowley protested shrilly. "You set us up" Sam snarled. "We lost people on that suicide run --Good people!" "Who you take on the ride is your own business" Crowley countered. "Look, everything is still the same. We're all still in this together." "Sure we are." Sam lunged for Crowley again who, again, vanished, teleporting to a spot a few feet away. "Call your dog off" he requested, glancing at Dean. "Please." Dean narrowed his eyes but put one hand out to keep Sam at bay momentarily. "Give me one good reason."
"I can give you pestilence" was the immediate response that stopped Dean dead in his tracks. "What do you know about pestilence?" "I know how to get him" Crowley explained, noting the reaction from Dean. "That's got your interest, doesn't it?" Sam looked between Dean and Crowley and then back to Dean. "Are you actually listening to this" he demanded, looking outraged. "Sam"- Dean only managed to get his brother's name out before being interrupted by an explosive, "are you friggen nuts??" Dean held up one hand. "Shut up for a second Sam" he snapped, trying to think. "Shut up, the both of you" Crowley insisted, annoyed. "Look...I swear... I thought the colt would work. It's an honest mistake." He looked between the brothers, his gaze lingering on Dean as he finished explaining his side of things. "It's all part of the learning process. But nothing's changed. I still want the devil dead." He paused, making a face, and then corrected himself. "Well...one thing's changed. Now the devil KNOWS that I want him dead. Which, by the way, makes me the most buggered son in all of creation." "Holy crap, we don't care" Dean informed the demon, impatient to get to the bit about pestilence, which was the only reason he wasn't letting Sam continue to try and rip Crowley to pieces. "They burnt down my house" Crowley exclaimed. No reaction from either brother. Crowley tried again. "They ate my tailor!!" Still no reaction. Crowley was growing increasingly agitated as he spoke. "Two months under a rock, like a bloody salamander! Every demon on hell and earth's got his eyes out for me! And yet...here I am...last place I should be --In the road, talking to Sam and Dean Winchester, under a friggen spotlight!!" He gestured wildly and the light above their heads exploded in a shower of sparks, plunging them into darkness. Taking a beat to collect himself, Crowley tipped his head in the other direction. "So come with me. Please." The brothers exchanged a skeptical look, neither moving. Crowley exhaled sharply. "Do you want the horsemen rings or not? Yes, I know all about that" he added impatiently when the boys exchanged another look, surprised. "Shall we?"
~~~
The abandoned shack Crowley led them to was depressing to say the least. Creepy would be another word for it. Nestled away deep in the woods with rotting wooden walls and mold growing just about everywhere you could see. "Here we are" Crowley declared, pushing open the front door and making a disgusted face. "My life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen." He sighed heavily and began rattling off problems. "Single-pane glass, Used contraception in the fireplace. The water damage alone"- "My heart's bleeding for you" Dean deadpanned without an ounce of sympathy. "Now, how do you know about the rings??" "Well, now...I've been keeping a close eye on you lot" Crowley explained idly, flicking two fingers to light a fire in the grate, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise frosty cabin. "We've got hex bags" Sam countered with narrowed eyes. "We're hidden from demons." "All but one." Crowley tapped his nose twice. "That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car --A magical coin that easily trumps your little bags of bones. It allows me to hear things, too --and, my, the things I've heard." He chuckled, reaching for a glass of scotch on the edge of a nearby table, swirling it around a few times. "So you want to cram the devil back in the box? Cunning scheme." He took a swig of the liquor, then set the glass down again. "I want in." "You said you could get us pestilence" Dean reminded him. "Ah." Crowley wandered a few paces away. "Well, now...I don't know where pestilence is...Per Se." Sam and Dean turned to leave. "BUT I do know the demon who does" Crowley informed their backs. Dean turned slowly, waiting for the rest of the explanation. "He's what you might call the horsemen's stable boy. He handles their itineraries, their personal needs. He's who you want --believe me" Crowley promised with confidence. "He'll tell us where Sneezy's at."
It sounded reasonable enough to be honest. As long as they got to pestilence in the end. "So how do we get him to spill" Dean wanted to know, ignoring the fury that was practically radiating off his brother beside him. "Rip out his toenails?" "No." Crowley waved this off. "Nuts at his pay grade don't crack. We bring him here, then I sell him." "Sell him" Dean echoed with an elevated eyebrow. That didn't sound like it would accomplish much. "Please" Crowley scoffed, looking prideful. "I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?" "Alright, so where's this demon of yours?"
Dean was on board.
For almost week now, ever since learning how they might be able to trap Lucifer in his cage, the boys had been on a hunt for the remaining two horsemen and, by extension, their rings. Pestilence seemed to be the easier target as all of a sudden, reports of mass illness attacks began sweeping the nation. So the boys started tracking the outbreaks as they occurred, attempting to run into Pestilence at one of them. So far it wasn't working.
~~~
"Dude, check it out, I look like the king of pop" Dean commented to his brother, both donned in white surgical masks as they made their way through yet another hospital to talk to the chief doctor. Sam sighed and rolled his eyes. Dean couldn't help chuckling, despite everything. "What? Too soon?" "Too soon" Sam agreed before nudging Dean's arm to get him to sober up as the chief approached them. They shook hands, introducing themselves as agents of the CDC, there to investigate the infection. "Don't get me wrong --I'm glad the CDC is here," the chief assured them, also wearing a mask, looking weary. "But what we really need is vaccine." An infected patient wandered past Dean, sounding as though he was trying to hack up a lung. Dean made a face and stepped sideways, giving himself a wider berth from the ill. "You got that right."
Sam frowned pointedly at him before turning back to the chief. "Tell me doctor, have you noticed anything unusual about the strain --Any signs of behavioral change, like aggression, maybe?" The chief frowned in confusion. "What?" "Have the flu victims shown any signs of, uh, homicidal tendencies" Dean elaborated in clarification of Sam's rather vague question, getting straight to the point as he often did. The chief gave an awkward chuckle as if she wasn't sure if Dean was joking or not. "Uh...Symptomatically speaking, we're looking at a relatively mild case of swine flu here. Probably add up to a miserable week off of work, and that's about it." "So...nothing unusual at all" Dean pressed. The chief looked thoughtful for a minute. "Hmm. Well, day and a half ago, we didn't have a single case. Now we're looking at over 70 -- The infectious equivalent of a briefcase bomb." She shrugged. "So, yeah, I might call that a little unusual." "Day and a half" Sam echoed and it didn't take any extra prodding for Dean to realize the significance of that as well. "That's the same time those statues started crying" he muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Sam nodded. The chief did a double take, apparently hearing Dean even with the mask and undertone. "I'm sorry...did you just say a bunch of statues were crying?" "What??" Sam laughed awkwardly, shaking his head. "No. No. W-who would"- "Who would say that, huh" Dean finished, chuckling faintly, trying to look as though the idea of statues crying was truly absurd. "Crazy people." "Yeah" Sam agreed with an emphatic nod. "Yeah" Dean repeated, mirroring the nod. "Which we are not."
The chief studied them both for a minute with an odd expression before leaving the conversation where it was and getting back to her original point. "Just...get us some vaccine." Dean pressed his lips together with a strained smile, nodding his consent of this order, watching as she walked away. Then he nudged Sam in the arm. "Come on, let's go." They headed back outside where the Impala was parked, depositing their masks into a trash can at the door. Dean pulled his phone out of one pocket as the pair of them slid into the car and dialed Bobby's number. "Let me guess -- another steamin'-hot pile of swine flu" was Bobby's greeting the second he picked up. "Yep." Dean activated speaker phone, handed the phone to Sam, started the car and backed them out of the parking lot. "Doesn't make any sense, Bobby" Sam commented in frustration. "Pestilence touched down here. I'm sure of it." "But why is he dealing them soft serve like swine flu when he's got the croatoan virus up his sleeve" Dean added, still deeply perturbed by this fact. "I don't get it."
"Doesn't matter what the sick son of a bitch is doing" Bobby reminded them gruffly. "What matters is this is the fourth town he's hit --That we know of -- and we're still eating his dust." There was a brief pause to let that sink in before Bobby was continuing. "Did you get anything? We got even a snowball at probable next target?" "No pattern we can see" Sam admitted with a weary shake of the head. "Ok." There was the sound of a heavy sigh transmitting across the line with a burst of static before Bobby's voice returned. "Well, far as I can tell, he's still heading East, so...head East, I guess." "East" Sam echoed, the brothers exchanging a look of exasperation. "Bobby, we're in West Nevada" Dean exclaimed. "East is practically all there is!" "Better get to driving then" was Bobby's promptly curt reply followed by the static of a dead line.
Dean rolled his eyes. Sam closed the phone and placed it on the dash. "Say...I've got an idea." The sudden familiar british accent came from the previously empty back seat. Sam drew Ruby's knife in the blink of an eye, twisting around in his seat to stab Crowley. Dean gave a startled jump, swerving the car and then skidding it to a halt with screeching wheels. "You get him" he wanted to know, twisting violently in his own seat to check. It was a mark of how pissed he was at Crowley that the fact that his baby's upholstery had just been slashed with a knife and would need attending didn't even cross his mind immediately. "He's gone" Sam panted, straightening up. The sudden rap on the driver's side window caused both boys to jump again, whipping their heads around. Crowley was standing just outside the car door, smiling amicably. "Fancy a fag and a chat?" Dean wrenched open his door, advancing a step on Crowley with a murderous expression. "You're upset" Crowley observed, taking a step back, hands up. "We should discuss it. Not here, but"- "You want to talk" Dean snapped, livid. "After what you did to us??" "What I did...what I did??" Crowley looked floored. "I gave you the colt!" Sam was out of the car by this point too, stalking closer. "Yeah, and you knew it wouldn't work against the devil!" "I never" Crowley protested shrilly. "You set us up" Sam snarled. "We lost people on that suicide run --Good people!" "Who you take on the ride is your own business" Crowley countered. "Look, everything is still the same. We're all still in this together." "Sure we are." Sam lunged for Crowley again who, again, vanished, teleporting to a spot a few feet away. "Call your dog off" he requested, glancing at Dean. "Please." Dean narrowed his eyes but put one hand out to keep Sam at bay momentarily. "Give me one good reason."
"I can give you pestilence" was the immediate response that stopped Dean dead in his tracks. "What do you know about pestilence?" "I know how to get him" Crowley explained, noting the reaction from Dean. "That's got your interest, doesn't it?" Sam looked between Dean and Crowley and then back to Dean. "Are you actually listening to this" he demanded, looking outraged. "Sam"- Dean only managed to get his brother's name out before being interrupted by an explosive, "are you friggen nuts??" Dean held up one hand. "Shut up for a second Sam" he snapped, trying to think. "Shut up, the both of you" Crowley insisted, annoyed. "Look...I swear... I thought the colt would work. It's an honest mistake." He looked between the brothers, his gaze lingering on Dean as he finished explaining his side of things. "It's all part of the learning process. But nothing's changed. I still want the devil dead." He paused, making a face, and then corrected himself. "Well...one thing's changed. Now the devil KNOWS that I want him dead. Which, by the way, makes me the most buggered son in all of creation." "Holy crap, we don't care" Dean informed the demon, impatient to get to the bit about pestilence, which was the only reason he wasn't letting Sam continue to try and rip Crowley to pieces. "They burnt down my house" Crowley exclaimed. No reaction from either brother. Crowley tried again. "They ate my tailor!!" Still no reaction. Crowley was growing increasingly agitated as he spoke. "Two months under a rock, like a bloody salamander! Every demon on hell and earth's got his eyes out for me! And yet...here I am...last place I should be --In the road, talking to Sam and Dean Winchester, under a friggen spotlight!!" He gestured wildly and the light above their heads exploded in a shower of sparks, plunging them into darkness. Taking a beat to collect himself, Crowley tipped his head in the other direction. "So come with me. Please." The brothers exchanged a skeptical look, neither moving. Crowley exhaled sharply. "Do you want the horsemen rings or not? Yes, I know all about that" he added impatiently when the boys exchanged another look, surprised. "Shall we?"
~~~
The abandoned shack Crowley led them to was depressing to say the least. Creepy would be another word for it. Nestled away deep in the woods with rotting wooden walls and mold growing just about everywhere you could see. "Here we are" Crowley declared, pushing open the front door and making a disgusted face. "My life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen." He sighed heavily and began rattling off problems. "Single-pane glass, Used contraception in the fireplace. The water damage alone"- "My heart's bleeding for you" Dean deadpanned without an ounce of sympathy. "Now, how do you know about the rings??" "Well, now...I've been keeping a close eye on you lot" Crowley explained idly, flicking two fingers to light a fire in the grate, adding a touch of warmth to the otherwise frosty cabin. "We've got hex bags" Sam countered with narrowed eyes. "We're hidden from demons." "All but one." Crowley tapped his nose twice. "That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car --A magical coin that easily trumps your little bags of bones. It allows me to hear things, too --and, my, the things I've heard." He chuckled, reaching for a glass of scotch on the edge of a nearby table, swirling it around a few times. "So you want to cram the devil back in the box? Cunning scheme." He took a swig of the liquor, then set the glass down again. "I want in." "You said you could get us pestilence" Dean reminded him. "Ah." Crowley wandered a few paces away. "Well, now...I don't know where pestilence is...Per Se." Sam and Dean turned to leave. "BUT I do know the demon who does" Crowley informed their backs. Dean turned slowly, waiting for the rest of the explanation. "He's what you might call the horsemen's stable boy. He handles their itineraries, their personal needs. He's who you want --believe me" Crowley promised with confidence. "He'll tell us where Sneezy's at."
It sounded reasonable enough to be honest. As long as they got to pestilence in the end. "So how do we get him to spill" Dean wanted to know, ignoring the fury that was practically radiating off his brother beside him. "Rip out his toenails?" "No." Crowley waved this off. "Nuts at his pay grade don't crack. We bring him here, then I sell him." "Sell him" Dean echoed with an elevated eyebrow. That didn't sound like it would accomplish much. "Please" Crowley scoffed, looking prideful. "I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?" "Alright, so where's this demon of yours?"
Dean was on board.
