Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean //

Sam Winchester
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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 5, 2016 21:04:05 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 5, 2016 21:04:05 GMT -5

ooc; SEASON FIVE. EPISODE TWENTY-ONE.

"It was just an idea" Sam informed Dean's back as he followed his brother into Bobby's kitchen, needing to stay close to avoid being hit in the face by the swinging door Dean had slammed his way through. "What the hell is wrong with you" Dean barked once they'd both entered the kitchen, rounding on the younger Winchester. Sam sighed heavily. "Dean..." "No, don't "Dean" me" Dean interrupted in exasperation. "I mean, you -- you have had some stupid ideas in the past, but this --" He glanced over one shoulder at Bobby in the library and then gestured at Sam. "Did you know about this?" Bobby looked between the brothers, confused to be thrown into the middle of the argument without context. "About what?" Sam opened his mouth but Dean got there first. "About Sam's genius plan to cram the devil down his throat." Bobby and Sam exchanged a glance and Sam could see the disappointment in Bobby's eyes that Sam hadn't let the idea go since they'd talked. Sam looked away.

Bobby finally half-nodded in silent response to Dean's question and the older Winchester threw up his hands. "Well thanks for the heads up!" Bobby held up his own hands defensively. "Hey, this ain't about me." Dean rounded on Sam again. "You can't do this." Sam exhaled shortly.

"That's the consensus."

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 5, 2016 22:19:11 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 5, 2016 22:19:11 GMT -5

"All right." Dean nodded, trying to calm himself down. "Awesome. Then, end of discussion." His phone sounded from within his jacket pocket. Pulling it out, he pointed at Sam. "This isn't over." Snapping open the phone with a little more force than necessary, he placed it to one ear. "Hello?" "Dean?" It took half a second to place the voice, mostly because he was still ruffled over Sam's little news bombshell. "Cas??" "Cas?" Sam looked up, interest peaked, whispering at Dean. "Is he ok? Where is he??" Dean waved him down impatiently with one hand so he could focus on the conversation at hand. "We all thought you were Dead. Where the hell are you, man??" "A hospital" came the answer after a labored pause. "Are you ok" Dean wanted to know in concern. Another labored pause and then, "no." Dean waited a beat but nothing else came. "...you want to elaborate" he pressed. "I just woke up here" Castiel explained, not sounding quite at full strength. "The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought I was brain-dead." "So...a hospital" Dean summarized, not sure what else to say. Castiel expanded upon his original explanation. "Apparently, after Van Nuys, I suddenly appeared, bloody and unconscious, on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I'm told it upset the sailors." Once again, Dean really had nothing to say in response to Castiel's very straight-forward manner of speaking. It had gotten much better since they'd met but was still sometimes easier to just change the subject rather than go with it. Which is what Dean did.

"Uh, well, I got to tell you, man -- You're just in time. We figured out a way to pop Satan's box." "How?" "It's a long story, but, look --we're going after Pestilence now" Dean informed him. "So if you want to zap over here..." "I can't." There was another beat of silence, but this time, Castiel elaborated without any prompting. "I can't zap anywhere...you might say my batteries are drained." "What are you saying" Dean wanted to know, furrowing his brow. "You're out of angel mojo?" Castiel's heavy sigh echoed over the phone line. "I'm saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I'm saying that I'm just incredibly.." Dean's shoulders sagged, the lightbulb going off. He finished Cas' sentence for him. "Human."

The idea of Cas no longer being an angel was just weird. "Wow" Dean breathed, shaking his head, trying to think of something else to say. All he could come up with was, "sorry." "Well, my point is -- I can't go anywhere without money for...an arrowplane ride" Castiel informed him, totally butchering the word airplane, having never had to know how to say it or fly on one before now. "And food. And more pain medication, ideally." "All right. Well, look, no worries. Bobby's here. He'll wire you the cash" Dean promised, earning a blank stare from Bobby. "I will??" Dean waved him down as Castiel spoke his name again. "Dean, wait." Dean switched the phone to his other ear. "Yeah?" "...You said "no" to Michael" Castiel finally recapped after a heavy pause. "I owe you an apology." "Cas, it's ok" Dean assured him but the no-longer-angel wouldn't let him just sweep it under the rug. "No, it's not" he insisted. "You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be. I should have had more faith in you." Dean honestly, for about the third time that conversation, was stuck for words. Castiel's bluntness just had a way of doing that to him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh...thank you. I appreciate that." "You're welcome." The line went dead. Dean lowered the phone, staring at it for a second with an amused smile. "Goodbye to you too."
~~~

Fifteen minutes later, after filling Bobby and Sam in on the conversation and Cas' humanized situation, he and Sam were packed and ready to hit the road. "Be careful" Bobby warned with fatherly concern, sitting in his chair just off to the side of the car. Dean tossed a final bag into the Impala's trunk and slammed it closed with a two-fingers at the temple salute and a patented Dean Winchester wry smile.

"We always are."

Last Edit: Jun 6, 2016 5:49:19 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 6, 2016 6:17:27 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 6, 2016 6:17:27 GMT -5

"So this is Dr. Evil's lair huh" Dean observed as the two of them sat in the Impala outside of a stately stone building with a sign out front reading: "Serenity Valley Convalescent Home". Sam watched as an elderly lady using a walker wheeled herself slowly into the building. "It's kind of more depressing than evil" he commented, making a face. "It's like a four-color brochure for dying young" Dean agreed, not looking all too overjoyed with their surroundings either. "Of course, to Pestilence, it's probably Dollywood in there." "Great." Sam heaved a long, drawn-out sigh. "A whole building full of people and we don't know who's human, who's demon, and who's pestilence. So what do we do?" "I don't..." Dean began, shaking his head, but stopped both mid-shake and mid-sentence. "Hang on." He inclined his head towards the top of the building. "Check it out." Sam's gaze followed Dean's and discovered a security camera. Sam smiled. Bingo.
~~~

The security office was on the first floor around back. Sam hung around outside the door, listening intently as Dean spoke to the guard inside. "Hey. Hi. Uh, I'm looking for my Nana. Uh, her name is Eunice Kennedy." Sam raised an eyebrow as the guard came back with a lazy, "go around front and see the nurse." "You mind just helping me out, sir" Dean requested politely. "Uh, she's about, uh, about that small and gray hair, wears diapers..." There was the sudden sound of bone connecting with flesh followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground. Seconds later, there were two brief pounds on the door by Dean's fist, letting Sam know it was safe to enter. He pushed open the door to find Dean dragging the security's guard's unconscious form into the room's only closet and locking the door. Sam closed and locked the front door as well. "Eunice Kennedy" he inquired with an amused smile. Dean shrugged, pulling out one of the two chairs at the desk. "That's the beauty about improv Sammy" he explained. "Never know what's going to come out of your mouth." Deciding to leave it at that, Sam pulled out the other chair, taking a seat and beginning to tap keys, scrolling through the many camera views.

It was slow going. About an hour in, his eyes were starting to get tired. He leaned back in the chair to take a moment's breather. "So what are we..." He glanced sideways and noticed that Dean was half-asleep. "Hey." He nudged him in the arm to get his attention. Dean gave a start and sat up straighter. Sam finished his question. "What are we even looking for?" "Well he's pestilence so he probably looks sick" Dean offered, rubbing his tired eyes. Sam stared.

"EVERYONE looks sick."

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 7, 2016 6:19:08 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 7, 2016 6:19:08 GMT -5

Dean couldn't really argue that point so he returned his focus to the monitors again. And almost immediately something caught his eye. "Hey." He nudged Sam and pointed. A doctor had just exited one of the patient's rooms, which normally would not be something of great importance seeing as how they were in a hospital but in this particular instance, the camera had begun to act up. A straight line of static was cutting across the screen, directly blocking the doctor's head so you couldn't see his face. Not normal camera behavior. "Now we're talking." Dean's gaze lingered on the monitor long enough to see which room he entered next before the brothers headed in that same direction.

As they walked, the closer they got to their destination the dizzier Dean began to feel. Beads of sweat were breaking out on his forehead and his vision blurred as he stumbled forward a few steps, rounding the final corner. "We must be getting close" Sam observed from beside him, where he didn't appear to be feeling much better, coughing up some blood and spitting it to the floor. "Ya think" was Dean's highly sarcastic, though quite wheezy and with labored breathing, return quip.

The door in question was right ahead of them. Dean could see it. But a few feet away from it, his light-headedness hit a new, full-intensity level, causing him to keel over, hitting the ground hard. "Dean..." Sam's voice reached him at a distance, sounding fuzzy. "Dean, get up." Dean pressed both palms into the hard wood floor, attempting to push himself up but his arms were like noodles and the cool wood was nice against his burning skin. "De"- Sam tried again but mid-way through the name, collapsed as well, hitting the ground next to his brother with a thud. The door in front of them opened to reveal a nurse in scrubs with black eyes. "The doctor will see you now" she informed them with a cheery smile. From behind her, the doctor they'd been following beckoned with a welcoming flourish of one arm. "Sam. Dean. Come on in."

Seeing as how they couldn't physically come on in themselves, the nurse dragged each of them inside one at a time, depositing them at pestilence's feet before closing the door. "Hmm." Pestilence rose from the bed he'd been perched on the edge of and strolled closer. "You boys don't look well" he observed, putting on a pair of glasses and squinting at the boys. "It might be the, uh, Scarlet fever. Or, uh, the meningitis. Oh! Or the syphilis." He wrinkled up his nose, clearly enjoying himself. "That's no fun." Bending over, he grabbed Sam by the hair and yanked his head up so they were looking at each other. "However you feel right now? It's gonna get so very, very much worse" he promised darkly before releasing Sam's hair, shoving his head back towards the ground, and straightening up. "Questions?" Dean groaned in pain.

"Disease gets a bad rap, don't you think" Pestilence continued, wandering away from the boys with an injured frown, as though this was personally offensive. "For being filthy. Chaotic. But, really, that just describes people who get sick." Pestilence squirt a drop of hand sanitizer onto his palm and then scrubbed both hands together, continuing to monologue while the boys lay there in agony. "Disease itself...well, it's very...pure...single-minded. Bacteria have one purpose --divide and conquer." Dean's fuzzy vision had landed on Ruby's knife, which Sam had dropped when he'd fallen over. It was only a few feet away. Summoning every ounce of strength he could muster in his illness-induced state of being, he subtly began to stretch one hand out, hoping Pestilence would be too busy ranting about diseases to notice. Unfortunately, that did not turn out to be the case, as Pestilence stepped down hard on Dean's fingers, preventing them from grasping the blade's handle, which was now only mere inches away. "That's why, in the end...It always wins" he boasted, using his other foot to kick Ruby's knife away before lifting his original foot from Dean's newly bruised fingers. He pulled his hand back, fingers throbbing, flexing them with a wince.

"So, you've got to wonder why God pours all his love into something so messy...And weak" Pestilence snapped, looking disgruntled. "It's ridiculous." After taking a moment to collect himself, Pestilence shrugged idly. "Oh well, all I can do is show him he's wrong, one epidemic at a time. Now..." He pocketed his glasses and stared down at the boys quizzically. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how's your pain?" If Dean had the energy, he would have scowled. What a stupid question. There was only one possible answer at a time like this and it was a fairly common one for him.

"Bite me."

Last Edit: Jun 8, 2016 7:24:50 GMT -5 by Dean Winchester

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 8, 2016 7:37:58 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jun 8, 2016 7:37:58 GMT -5

-- "Castiel" --

Before either brother could react in any way, the door flung open revealing Castiel. Pestilence took an alarmed step back. "How did you get here?" "I took a bus" was the simple answer before he turned to the boys. "Don't worry, I..." He had taken a step into the room but as soon as he'd done so begun to cough violently, doubling over and then landing on his knees, spitting up blood. "Well, look at that." Pestilence took a step forward again, placing one hand on the nearest table for balance and bending down to study Castiel mockingly. "An occupied vessel, but powerless. Oh, that's fascinating. There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"

Drawing in a deep breath and lunging for the abandoned knife, Castiel slammed it down, hearing the satisfying crunch of bone and flesh as he severed two fingers from Pestilence's hand, including the one with the ring. He narrowed his eyes triumphantly.

"Maybe just a speck."

Dean Winchester
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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 11, 2016 11:29:49 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 11, 2016 11:29:49 GMT -5

The instant Pestilence's ring was disconnected from his body, the feeling of wanting to die evaporated. Dean pushed himself to his feet, Sam doing the same beside him. The two of them and Castiel stared Pestilence down, who was standing by the window, clutching his bleeding stump of a two-finger-less hand. "It doesn't matter" Pestilence whispered, taking a step backwards. "It's too late." And with that very unsettling, cryptic piece of information delivered, he vanished. Dean picked up the ring. "That's not troubling at all."
~~~

"Well, it's nice to score a homerun for once, huh" Bobby remarked, once they were all gathered back at his house, inclining his head at the ring Dean was playing with absently on the desk. Dean twirled the ring with two fingers and let go, watching it spin like a dradel for a few rotations before placing one hand back over it. "Yeah." His tone was somber, his expression downcast. Castiel and Sam's demeanors were not much better. Bobby, not being an idiot, picked up on this quite easily. "What?" "Last thing pestilence said was 'it's too late'" Sam explained grimly. "...he get specific" Bobby wanted to know in a skeptical tone that implied he already knew what the answer would be. All three shook their heads. "No." Dean gave the ring another spin and then left it to twirl on its own, pinning his whole focus on Bobby. "We're just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere. We don't know where it is, what it is or when it might go off. So please tell us you have actual good news."

Bobby uncorked a bottle of whiskey on his desk and poured out four glasses. "Chicago's about to be wiped off the map" he announced after taking a sip from his. "Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die." Silence met this statement, followed a few seconds later by a confused, "I don't understand your definition of good news" from Castiel. For once Castiel's blunt, literalness was actually proving to be helpful because Dean himself was not quite sure how this translated into good news but at least he didn't have to be the idiot who asked. Bobby took another sip of whiskey, then set it down on his desk. "Well...Death, the horseman -- he's gonna be there. And if we can stop him before he kick-starts this storm, get his ring back..." "You make it sound so easy" Dean quipped dryly. "Hell, I'm just trying to put a positive spin on it" Bobby countered with a defensive shrug. Dean took a break from the conversation to swig some whiskey and Sam jumped right in. "How'd you put all this together anyway, Bobby?" Bobby suddenly looked fidgety. He reached for his whiskey again. "I had...you know...help..." "Don't be so modest" Crowley's lazy drawl interrupted from across the room where he had suddenly appeared. "I barely helped at all." He strolled closer, glanced at the bottle of whiskey and made a face before inclining his head at the brothers. "Hello, boys. Pleasure, et cetera." When no one responded, he gestured to Bobby next. "Go ahead. Tell them. There's no shame in it." Dean tilted his head to the side. Sam straightened in his chair. "Bobby? Tell us what?" Bobby studied his hands in his lap. The brothers glanced at each other and then back to Bobby impatiently, speaking in unison. "Bobby!"

"The world's ending" he reminded them a little stiffly. "Seems stupid to get all precious over one little....soul." "You sold your soul" Dean demanded in outrage, sounding just about as angry with Bobby as he had been with Dean upon learning he'd made a demon deal to bring Sam back a few years ago. Had he not been in a wheelchair, Dean probably would have shoved him in the chest too. "Oh, more like pawned it" Crowley interrupted before Bobby could get a word in edgewise. "I fully intend to give it back." "Then give it back" Dean snapped without missing a beat. "I will" Crowley promised without making any move to do so. Dean got to his feet. "NOW!"

"Did you kiss him?" This was Sam, taking the conversation in a completely different direction out of nowhere. Dean glanced over one shoulder in exasperation. "Sam!" The younger Winchester shrugged. "Just curious." Dean actually was kind of curious too so he swiveled his gaze to Bobby, waiting. "No" Bobby exclaimed, looking repulsed by the idea. "Ahem." Crowley cleared his throat pointedly and held up his phone, displaying a picture of the two of them kissing. Bobby scowled. "Why'd you take a picture?" "Why'd you have to use tongue" Crowley countered, looking amused. "Alright, I'm sick of this." Dean returned his focus to Crowley with narrowed eyed. "Give him his soul back. Now." "I'm sorry" Crowley apologized, not sounding like he meant it in the slightest. "I can't." "Can't or won't" was Dean's instant challenge. "I won't alright" Crowley shot back, crossing his arms. "It's insurance." That wasn't anywhere close to anything Dean had been expecting to hear and it threw him for a loop. "Insurance for what??"

"You kill demons" Crowley reminded them, inclining his head specifically at Sam. "Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it." He seemed to be waiting for an argument or insult and when he got none, nodded triumphantly, finishing his explanation. "But you won't kill me...not as long as I have that soul in the deposit box." "You son of a bitch" Dean growled, advancing a step. Crowley held up his hands. "I'll return it" he reiterated strongly. "After all this is over, and I can walk safely away. DO WE ALL UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER???!!!" His voice had elevated a few octaves on this last question in annoyance. Dean tightened his jaw and said nothing. There wasn't much to say after that.
~~~

Sitting at a picnic table in Bobby's scrap yard out back, Dean was staring off into space absently when he was joined by Sam. The younger Winchester had a brooding, pensive kind of expression twisting up his face, not really leaving much to the imagination as to why he'd sought Dean out. "Let me guess." Dean sighed heavily, bracing himself.

"We're about to have a talk."

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 11, 2016 11:58:09 GMT -5

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Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 11, 2016 11:58:09 GMT -5

Sam took a seat on the opposite bench from his brother at the table, holding up his hands as a sort of peace barrier. "Look, Dean, um...For the record...I agree with you." Dean raised an eyebrow, obviously not following so Sam clarified a bit before continuing. "About me. You think I'm too weak to take on Lucifer. Well...so do I." He shrugged with a sad smile. "Believe me, I know exactly how screwed up I am. You, Bobby, Cas...I'm the least of any of you." Dean's eyebrow descended rapidly, his expression quickly turning protective and somewhat pitying. "Oh, come on Sam..." "No, it's true" Sam insisted, not looking for sympathy or an argument. He was simply stating facts. His brother could outfight him in a heartbeat if he wasn't high on demon blood. "It is. But...I'm also all we got. If there was another way..." Sam lifted his shoulders and let them drop helplessly. "But I don't think there is. There's just me. So I don't know what else to do. Except just try to do what's got to be done."

"And...scene." Crowley stepped up to the side of the table, holding a newspaper in one hand, smirking. It faded a bit as he tossed the paper in Sam's direction. "Something you need to see." The paper had landed in front of Sam on the table. He picked it up, reading the headline aloud. "Niveus pharmaceuticals is rushing delivery of its new swine-flu vaccine to "stem the tide of the unprecedented outbreak." Shipments leave Wednesday." He lowered the paper and glanced up, confused. Dean didn't seem to be catching the gravity of this announcement either. They shared a look and then turned to Crowley with blank expressions. "Niveus pharmaceuticals" Crowley repeated as though this was supposed to mean something important. "Get it?" Sam wracked his brains but nothing was coming to him. Crowley rolled his eyes. "You two are lucky you have your looks, you know that?" He snatched up the paper, continuing to explain his point before either brother could react to his insult. "Your demon lover, Brady? V.P. of distribution, Niveus." Sam's eyes widened suddenly, realizing the problem. Across from him, Dean's eyes were doing the same thing. "Ah, yes, that the sound of the abacus clacking" Crowley commented, noticing their change of demeanor. "We all caught up?"

"So pestilence" Dean began, Sam finishing for him. "Was spreading swine flu." Back to Dean. "Yeah, but not just for giggles. That was step one. Step two is the vaccine." Sam's turn again. "And you think"- "I know" Crowley interrupted grimly. "I'll stake my reputation -- That vaccine is chock-full of grade-a, farm-fresh croatoan virus." "Simultaneous, countrywide distribution" Sam summarized, impressed in spite of himself, as well as horrified. "It's quite a plan." "They don't get to be horsemen for nothing" Crowley pointed out, heaving a long, drawn out sigh. "So, you boys better stock up on...Well, everything. This time next Thursday, we'll all be living in zombieland." The boys shared a long look. Sam felt his heart sink. They were so screwed.

Again.

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 11, 2016 12:10:12 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jun 11, 2016 12:10:12 GMT -5

-- "Bobby" --

Bobby wheeled his chair closer to the van he and Castiel were loading, a large duffel bag positioned on his lap as a way of transporting it. Castiel was standing by the open door, holding a shot gun and staring miserably off into space. "What's your problem" Bobby wanted to know, frowning. Castiel turned away from the van. "This is what they mean by "the 11th hour," right?" Bobby shrugged. "Pretty much." "Well, it's the 11th hour, and I am useless" Castiel complained, waving his gun aimlessly. "All I have is this. What am I even supposed to do with it?" "Point it and shoot" was Bobby's answer in a tone that clearly spelled out the word 'duh', like everyone should know this. It really wasn't brain surgery after all.

Castiel sighed heavily and looked skyward. "What I used to be..." "Are you really gonna bitch --to ME?" Bobby gaped at the former angel. At least he could still walk! Whining to someone who'd lost that ability simply because you could no longer point at something and have it move seemed a little selfish and a lot stupid. Bobby tossed the duffel bag with force in Castiel's direction. "Quit pining for the varsity years...And load the damn truck."

It was probably a good thing Castiel didn't have any powers or Bobby probably would have found himself without any legs at all after a tirade like that.

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 11, 2016 12:25:41 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 11, 2016 12:25:41 GMT -5

Dean finished packing his own duffel bag and wandered back into the scrap yard, the moon high in the sky. Sam was leaning against the side of the van, conversing with Bobby and Castiel who'd just finished loading the aforementioned van. Sam pushed off the van and turned to face Dean as he approached. "You ready?" "As I'll ever be" Dean returned honestly, not sure you could really prepare for attempting to kill death. Or for letting your younger brother go off to try and stop the world from becoming an episode of the walking dead. But there were two things that needed doing, two of them, and no time. So splitting up seemed to be their only option.

Dean smiled tightly. "All right, well...Good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse thing." "Yeah." Sam half-smiled. "Good luck killing death." Dean inclined his head in half a nod, making a face. "Yeah." There was a semi-awkward pause, neither of them really wanting to go their separate ways and yet knowing they needed to. After a minute or so of this, Sam's face split into a genuine, whole smile. "Hey Dean...remember when we used to just...hunt wendigos? How simple things were?" Dean chuckled automatically before actually letting himself think about it. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. He gave his head a brief shake, his smile turning wry.

"Not really."

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Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 11, 2016 23:25:50 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jun 11, 2016 23:25:50 GMT -5

-- "Bobby" --

Bobby watched from his chair as the brothers got ready to say their farewells. Sam was pulling Ruby's knife from his belt and offering it to Dean. "Well, you might need this." "Keep it." Crowley's voice was the one to answer, the demon appearing out of nowhere next to Dean and holding up a small silver scythe. "Dean's covered." He gestured with the scythe. "Death's own. Kills...golly...demons, angels, reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself." Castiel squinted at it suspiciously. "How'd you get that?" "Hello --king of the crossroads." Crowley beamed proudly. "So, shall we?" He took a step and then paused, zooming his focus in on Bobby. "Bobby, you just gonna sit there?" "No, I'm gonna river-dance" Bobby quipped dryly, irritated.

"I suppose if you want to impress the ladies." Crowley shrugged, then shook his head a few times. "Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted 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." Bobby wasn't entirely sure what he was yammering on about with the sub clause thing but there was something about the way he'd said it that grabbed Bobby's full attention. Especially when the demon raised an eyebrow and asked again, "So. Just gonna sit there?"

Deciding to give his rising suspicions acknowledgement, Bobby twitched one of his feet. And it moved. He looked back up quickly, his breath coming out in a little surprised gasp. Sam and Dean were staring at him mutely, their expressions hopeful. Bobby slowly lifted that one foot and let it drop from the wheelchair footrest to the pavement, then did the same with his other foot, all the while, his breathing getting faster and faster with anticipation and excitement. There was feeling back in his legs. Finally, he pushed himself out of the wheelchair and into a fully standing position, feeling 100% back to normal, as though he'd never been paralyzed. He let out an awed breath of air, exchanging a teary look with the brothers who were both smiling widely by this point. "Son of a bitch" Bobby remarked, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Yes, I know." Crowley looked pleased with himself. "Completely worth your soul. I'm a hell of a guy." Bobby wasn't sure he'd go as far as worth his soul, but he was supremely grateful. More grateful than he'd ever thought he'd be to a demon. So when he turned to Crowley with a breathy "thanks" it was 100% sincere. "This is getting maudlin." Crowley rolled his eyes, gesturing over one shoulder. "Can we go?" They were kind of on a deadline, after all.
~~~

Able to feel his legs and feet again, Bobby had immediately volunteered to drive his truck, leaving Sam in the passenger seat and Castiel behind them in the back. They'd spent the last twenty minutes filling him in on Sam's ludicrous plan to allow himself to be possessed by Lucifer and now Castiel was mulling it over. ""Yes" to Lucifer. Then jump in the hole...it's an interesting plan." "That's one word for it" Bobby remarked darkly, eyes on the road. "So? Go ahead and tell me it's the worst plan you ever heard" Sam sighed reluctantly from the passenger seat. "Of course. I am happy to say that if that's what you want to hear" Castiel assured him, leaning forward so that he was between the two front seats. "But it's not what I think." "What" Bobby demanded at the same time Sam was asking, "really" with lit-up eyes. "You and Dean have a habit of exceeding my expectations" Castiel explained while Bobby simply gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he could. "He resisted Michael. Maybe you could resist Lucifer. But there are things that you would need to know." "Like" Sam prompted. "Michael has found another vessel" Castiel informed them both. Bobby saw Sam in the corner of one eye go a shade paler. "What?" "It's your brother Adam" Castiel elaborated, shooting Sam a somewhat sympathetic look. "You must have considered it." "We were trying not to" Sam muttered, looking dejected.

Castiel leaned even further forward, his expression gravely serious. "Sam....If you say yes to Lucifer and then fail...This fight WILL happen. And the collateral... It'll be immense." There was a heavily weighted silence as everyone in the van let this sink in. Then Castiel added as sort of a casual afterthought. "There's also the demon blood." Sam's head whipped around so fast Bobby was surprised it didn't twist right off. "What? What are you talking about??" "To take in Lucifer, it would be more than you've ever drunk" Castiel explained somberly. Bobby's grip on the steering wheel tightened immeasurably, forcing himself to stay out of the conversation. This was about Sam, not him.

"But...why?" Sam's question sounded slightly strangled. "It strengthens the vessel" Castiel explained without emotion. "Keeps it from exploding." "...the guy he's in now" Sam prompted, looking worried. "Is drinking gallons" Castiel finished, nodding grimly. Sam looked away. Bobby thought back to his earlier plan to stay out of the conversation and threw it out the window with an exasperated question that perfectly summed up everything he had just heard.

"....and HOW is this not the worst plan you've ever heard??"

Sam Winchester
Hunter.

Posts: 958

Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 12, 2016 10:59:41 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Sam Winchester on Jun 12, 2016 10:59:41 GMT -5

Bobby and Castiel may have continued the conversation but Sam wasn't paying attention. He was quiet for the rest of the car ride. The thought of drinking demon blood again was causing his heart to do a little erratic beating against his ribs and the fact that he couldn't tell if it was from desire or fear was rather unsettling. After everything that happened, logically he knew never to ever want to touch the stuff again but that feeling of power and strength wasn't one that went away so quickly.

He was only shaken from his revere when the van pulled to a halt outside of Niveus' headquarters and they settled in to start talking tactic. "Yup, they're loading up hotshots of Croatoan in the trucks" Bobby confirmed after a quick scan through his binoculars. "Okay. First truck don't leave for an hour. So we get in, we plant the c-4 every 25 feet, then we pull the fire alarm. Then"- "Uh...that truck is leaving" Castiel informed them, pointing. One of the large yellow trucks was trundling its way towards the front gate. Bobby did another quick peek through the binoculars, then let them drop with an alarmed swear. "Balls! Ok..." He looked earnestly between Sam and Castiel.

"New plan."
~~~

Sam tucked a fully loaded handgun into the waistband of his jeans in the small of his back, covered by both his shirt and jacket, then picked up a second gun, a shotgun this time, and he and Bobby high-tailed it towards the back door of the building while Castiel hurried off to stop the outgoing truck. Every entrance into the building was locked and Sam could hear frantic screaming from inside. "Stand back" he hollered, lifting the shotgun and firing. The lock shattered upon impact with the bullet and Sam rushed forward to yank the door open, herding dozens of scared innocent civilians out into the sunlight. "Go, go, come on, go" he urged as he did so. Once they were all past, he and Bobby surged forward into the building, keeping their eyes peeled.

Almost immediately, two croats came charging at them. Sam and Bobby lifted their guns in unison, firing. The croats dropped like stones to the ground. As Sam was looking around cautiously, the sound of distant panicked screaming could be heard. "There's still people here" he announced to Bobby beginning to head in the direction of the screaming. "Sam, no" Bobby whisper-hissed after him. Sam turned back. "Wait here." Pulling Ruby's knife out of his belt, he handed it over, then raised his gun again and continued following the screams.

A young woman was clinging to the top step of a ladder, a croat gripping onto her foot, trying to pull her down. "Help me" she cried out in terror. Sam fired a bullet into the croat's skull, scurrying forward to help the woman down off of the ladder. "Come on, let's go." He helped her back to Bobby who helped her outside. More screaming could be heard. Sam took a deep breath.

"I'm going back in."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 12, 2016 12:01:17 GMT -5

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Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 12, 2016 12:01:17 GMT -5

Dean pulled the Impala to a halt alongside the curb once they'd reached the targeted neighborhood in Chicago where Death was supposed to be lurking. He cut the engine and took a deep breath. Beside him, Crowley suggested suddenly and with great casualness, "hey, let's stop for pizza." Dean twisted his head to the side to stare incredulously. "Are you kidding??" "Just heard it was good" Crowley shrugged. "That's all." "Well we're not getting pizza" Dean declined, getting out of the car. "We're a little busy, remember?" Crowley, also out of the car, shrugged again with indifference and pointed as they walked. "Up ahead. Big, ugly grey building. Ground zero. Horseman's stable, if you will. He's in there." Dean frowned curiously. "How do you know?" "Have you met me?" Crowley raised a confident eyebrow without a trace of modesty. "'cause I know." He waited a beat and then gave a proper explanation. "Also, the block is squirming with reapers." Dean was going to have to take his word on that because as far as he could see the stretch of road ahead of them was entirely empty.

"I'll be right back." Crowley vanished, only to reappear a few seconds later. "Boy, is my face red. Death's not in there." "You want to cut the cute and get to the part where you tell me where he is" Dean demanded shortly, crossing his arms. "Sorry, I don't know." Crowley turned to walk back in the direction of the Impala. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, you don't know" Dean repeated, grabbing Crowley's upper arm and spinning him back around. Crowley held up his hands defensively. "Signs pointed. I-I'm just as shocked as you." "Bobby sold his soul for this" Dean snapped, releasing Crowley's arm. "Relax." Crowley lowered his hands. "All deals are soul back or store credit. We'll catch Death in the next doomed city." He started walking again and again Dean grabbed his arm. "Millions Crowley" he reminded the demon with heavy emphasis. "Millions of people are about to die any minute!" "True." Crowley shook himself free of Dean's grip easily and continued walking. "So I strongly suggest we get out of here."

Dean threw up his hands in exasperation and followed. Sitting in the car, Dean started the engine but didn't make any move to drive quite yet, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "So, what? Call in a bomb threat? 1,000 bomb threats? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to get three million people out of Chicago in the next 10 minutes?" He turned to get some input from Crowley and found the passenger seat empty. "Oh come on!" Mid-frustrated-eyeroll, he happened to notice Crowley standing on the sidewalk across the street in front of a pizza shop, mouthing something and gesturing. "What??" Dean frowned, squinting, trying to make out what Crowley was saying. Crowley appeared to be repeating it but it wasn't helpful. "I can't hear you" Dean returned loudly, holding up his hands with a clueless expression, hoping it would get the message across even from a distance.

"I said I found him." Crowley's voice was suddenly quite loud and right next to Dean again as the demon reappeared in the passenger seat. "Death --he's in there." He inclined his head at the pizza shop. Dean exhaled deeply and stepped out of the car once more. He waited for a second but the passenger door didn't open. "Hey. You coming or..." He leaned over to rap on the window and noticed Crowley was gone. Again.

"...not."

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

NPC
Other.

Posts: 117

Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 12, 2016 12:06:27 GMT -5

Quote

Post by NPC on Jun 12, 2016 12:06:27 GMT -5

-- "Castiel" --

After managing to break the apparatus that allowed the front gate to slide open, making it nearly impossible for any trucks to get in or out, Castiel returned to the building. He was just in time to find Sam on the ground, being strangled by an infected croat, and Bobby trying to unjam his shotgun in a frenzied panic. Doing as he'd been instructed earlier, Castiel pointed the tip of his gun at the croat's head and pulled the trigger, watching in satisfaction as the man toppled off of Sam, clearly dead, and Sam pushed himself up to a standing position, breathing deeply, massaging his tender throat. Castiel glanced down at the gun in his hand, considering it with new perspective.

"Actually, these things CAN be useful."

Dean Winchester
Hunter.

Our lives are weird, man.

Posts: 2,165

Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 12, 2016 13:06:04 GMT -5

Quote

Post by Dean Winchester on Jun 12, 2016 13:06:04 GMT -5

Dean, gripping the scythe with every ounce of strength he could muster, crept into the pizza parlor. Outside, the wind was beginning to pick up and a few heavy drops of rain were beginning to fall. Inside, there were dead bodies scattered everywhere. Dean had to watch where he stepped. He kept trying to think up a strategy for what he'd do when he finally came across Death but his mind was blank and all too soon, he was entering the large front room, discovering a tall, pale man in a black suit sitting at a table with his back to Dean. The scythe in his hand began to burn red-hot, so much so that he was forced to drop it with a clatter. Dean took an automatic step backwards, his heart racing, sure that the noise had alerted Death to his presence if he hadn't known already. And sure enough...

"Thanks for returning that." The voice addressed him without its owner turning around. Dean's eyes darted to the floor where the scythe had fallen, noticing that it was gone. His eyes swung over to the table next, finding it sitting next to Death's napkin. "Join me, Dean" Death went on pleasantly. "The pizza's delicious." Swallowing hard, Dean crossed the room at a relatively slow pace, his heart still going like a jackrabbit. Stopping next to the chair opposite Death, he hesitated. "Sit down" Death ordered and Dean obeyed instantly. "Took you long enough to find me" Death went on, stabbing a piece of his sliced pizza with a fork. "I've been wanting to talk to you." "I got to say --I have mixed feelings about that" Dean replied honestly. What exactly were you supposed to feel when Death wanted to talk to you? He swallowed hard again and met Death's eyes for the first time. "S-so is this the part where...where you kill me?"

Death studied him for a moment, then took a sip of beer from the plastic cup in front of him. "You have an inflated sense of your importance" he remarked, setting the plastic cup back down. "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." Dean tried to think of something to say, but fortunately Death did not seem to want an actual answer as he continued speaking without missing a beat. "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." He used a spatula to slide a piece of gooey pizza from the serving dish onto Dean's empty place and pointed at it. "Eat." Dean took a timid bite, not feeling very hungry for perhaps the first time in his life, but not wanting to disobey a direct order from Death. That didn't seem like it would go over well.

"Good, isn't it?" Death took a bite of his own pizza. Dean swallowed the bite he'd taken and set the rest of the slice back down, figuring he'd fulfilled the wish to eat already and could stop. "Well, I gotta ask...how old are you?" "As old as God. Maybe older." Death shrugged, unconcerned. "Neither of us can remember anymore. Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless -- at the end, I'll reap him, too." Dean stared. "God?? You'll reap God??" "Oh, yes. God will die, too, Dean" Death promised sincerely. Dean let out a little breath, trying to smile and failing, mostly just looking pained. "Well...this is way above my paygrade." Give him a monster to kill, fine, it's done. But you start talking about reaping GOD...

Death swallowed his current mouthful of pizza and inclined his head in an agreeable nod. "Just a bit." "So, then why am I still breathing, sitting here with you...eating pizza" Dean wanted to know. The whole thing felt very surreal. "Uh...w-what do you want?" "The leash around my neck --off" Death informed him, sounding irritated. "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." Death leaned forward, getting uncomfortably close to Dean's face. "I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum." Dean was trying to keep up, understand what Death wanted him to do. He frowned uncertainly. "And...and you think I can unbind you?" Death rolled his eyes and settled back in his chair again. "There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun." Death held up one hand, a white-stone-center ring between two fingers. "I understand you want this." Apparently word got around fast.

"Um, yeah...I do" Dean admitted, wondering where this was going. "I'm inclined to give it to you." Death put the ring down on the table between them, Dean's eyes following it. "Give it to me?" "That's what I said" Death confirmed, watching Dean for a reaction. Tearing his eyes up from the ring, Dean gestured vaguely behind him to the large glass window that showed the downpour and tornado-like winds that were gusting through Chicago as they spoke. "What about...?" "Chicago?" Death considered it for a minute and then relented. "I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza." As he picked up the ring again, the storm outside began to die down. "Now. There are conditions." "Ok" Dean agreed immediately before deciding he'd better find out what they were. "Like?" "You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell" Death ordered. Dean held out one hand to accept the ring eagerly. "Of course." It seemed a fairly stupid condition. That was the whole point of wanting the ring in the first place. Death pulled the ring back out of Dean's reach, locking eyes with him. "WHATEVER it takes Dean." "That's the plan" Dean agreed again, continuing to wait for the ring to be placed in his palm. "No. No plan. Not yet." Death leaned forward. "Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one."

Dean's blood ran cold. "What? You...you think"- "I know" Death interrupted firmly. "So, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit." He held the ring directly over Dean's palm, getting ready to drop it. "Well, do I have your word?" Dean hesitated another fraction of a second and then nodded. "Yeah, ok, yes. You have it." The only thing in his mind right now was getting that ring. He'd deal with everything else later.

And finally, at long last, the ring was dropped into his palm, which he cupped around it protectively. Death speared Dean with a long, hard look. "That had better be "yes," Dean. You know you can't cheat death." They stared at each other for another minute before Death inclined his head at Dean's closed fist, indicating the ring within. "Now, would you like the instruction manual?" Dean listened intently as Death went over how to use the rings. Outside, it had stopped raining.
~~~

Dean sat at the same picnic table in Bobby's back scrap yard that he often went to when he needed to think or get some air, space, or both. On the table in front of him were all four horsemen rings, War's at the center. All you needed to do was get the other three rings close enough, and like a magnet, they clicked together to form a little four-ring clump. The key.

"Hey." Dean looked up at the sound of Bobby's voice addressing him. He returned the greeting. "Hey. How'd it go at the Rockettes audition?" Bobby smiled. "Well, high kicks -- fair. Boobs need work." They both chuckled. "I walked up and down stairs all night for no damn reason" Bobby went on, looking happier than Dean had seen him in months. "I'm sore. Feels so good, I'm scared it's a dream." Bobby stared off into space for a minute, then returned his focus to Dean, holding up two beer bottles. "But then I remember that the world's dying bloody, so...drink?" Dean took one of the two bottles, but set it aside without drinking. "Check it out." He showed Bobby the trick with the rings. Bobby lifted an eyebrow. "Wow. So death told you how to operate those? The whole deal?" "Yeah. It's nuts" Dean confirmed, making a face. "Of course, I got bigger problems now." "Really?" Bobby took a seat opposite Dean, looking concerned. "Like?" Dean gave a pained smile.

"What do you think Death does to people who lie to his face?"

We hunt monsters....you know who does that? Crazy people!

NPC
Other.

Posts: 117

Two Minutes To Midnight. // Dean // Jun 12, 2016 13:24:18 GMT -5

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Post by NPC on Jun 12, 2016 13:24:18 GMT -5

-- "Bobby" --

"Nothing good" was Bobby's honest answer. "What'd you say?" Dean twisted off the cap of his beer bottle finally and took a swig before answering. "That I was cool with Sam driving the bus on the whole Lucifer plan." Bobby half-nodded. "So Death thinks Sam ought to say yes, huh?" "I don't know, I guess." Dean shrugged, taking another long swig of beer. "Hmm." Bobby considered this while Dean ranted, "but, I mean, of course he'd say that. He works for Lucifer." "Against his will, I thought he said" Bobby recapped from Dean's brief explanation when he'd first gotten back. "Well, I'd say, take his sob story with a fat grain of salt" Dean countered, setting the beer bottle down and then picking it back up again. "I mean, he is Death." "Exactly." Bobby completed a full nod this time. "He's Death. Think of the kind of bird's-eye view." Dean frowned. "Seriously??" Bobby held up his hands. "I'm just saying"-

"Well, don't" Dean interrupted harshly, looking rattled. "I mean, what ever happened to you being against this?" Bobby heaved a heavy sigh. "Look, I'm not saying Sam ain't an ass-full of character defects. But..." "But what" Dean prompted impatiently, staring Bobby down. Bobby let out a shorter exhale, trying to explain what he'd been noticing recently. "Back at Niveus? I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another. Must have saved 10 people. Never stopped. Never slowed down. We're hard on him, Dean" he went on, eyeing the older Winchester with a sympathetic smile. "We've always been. But in the meantime... He's been running into burning buildings since he was, what, 12?" "Pretty much" Dean agreed, picking at the label of his beer bottle absently without looking up. "Look, Sam's got a...Darkness in him" Bobby acknowledged. "I'm not saying he don't. But he's got a hell of a lot of good in him, too." Dean looked up from the bottle he'd been studying intensely for about five minutes and nodded with confidence. "I know that." "Then you know Sam will beat the devil...or die trying" Bobby insisted. "And that's the best we could ask for." He took a moment to steel himself for the question he knew needed to be put on the table and then delivered it. "So I got to ask, Dean. What exactly are you afraid of? Losing?" He locked eyes with Dean.

"Or losing your brother?"

[THE END.]

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