Bait

“Here’s what we know,” Dean says, packing his green duffle. “Whatever it is, it’s throwing us off on purpose. Ripping out hearts, that’s werewolf, through and through. Well, I guess it could be a handful of other things... That’s besides the point. The temp drops and flickers, that’s ghost. Picking things up - picking you up - poltergeist. Or... demon. Or disgruntled wizard. Or...”

“What are you guys doing?” Sam is suddenly standing in the doorway of Dean’s bedroom. You slide off the bed and hide the piece of paper you’ve been holding in your fist behind your back.

“Hunting, brother. It’s what we do.” Dean zips the bag shut and looks at you. “You ready?”

He’s asking you more than that. You see it in his eyes. Are you ready to risk your life? Are you ready to maybe see Jonah die? Are you sure you want to go through with this? “Yes.”

“No-” Sam strides into the room, blocking you from leaving.

“Let her go, Sam,” Dean says. Again.

“This is crazy. She’s not going out there,” he scoffs.

“She’s a big girl, she can make her own damned decisions,” Dean retorts. “She doesn’t need your permission.”

“If you two could please be done, Jonah’s still out there at the mercy of a demon on a joyride.” Your heart pounds in your ears. Are you really doing this? It’s as if you’ve stepped outside of your body and let autopilot take over. It’s difficult to know if you’re afraid or anxious or furious. Right now, it all feels the same. You slide the paper into your back pocket.

“[Y/N], please just think this through for a minute,” Sam pleads.

“I have. Either come with us or get out of the way, please.” It’s impossible to look at him. You know what you’ll see in those eyes, and if you look up, you might lose your resolve. You have to stay strong for Jonah - you and Dean might be his only chance.

“This might be a little trickier than we thought,” Dean says, dropping his phone on the seat between him and Sam.

You lift your head from the cool glass of the back window and lean forward. “What do you mean?”

“Crowley’s MIA. We’re going to have to find this sum’ bitch on our own.” He sighs as the Impala growls down the Interstate.

Sam hasn’t said a word since you piled into the car, but at least he is here. Deep down, you knew he would. A man doesn’t look at a girl the way he does without the primal instinct to protect her at all costs.

Dean had found news reports online of suspicious (read: demonic) activity in a little town not far from where you live and decided that was where you needed to go. You practice breathing in the back seat, your head down over your knees. Even if it isn’t the same demon, Dean said he could get the information you need; he just has to trap it.

You reach into your back pocket to make sure that piece of paper is still there.

An hour or so later, Dean glides the Impala off the Interstate and into a truck stop. “Hit the john and grab something to eat. It’s gonna be a long night,” he says, adjusting his belt after shutting the car door behind you. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to stretch. It feels really good to arc your back as you reach up to the clear night sky.

You glance back at Sam. You consider saying something to break the tension, but he’s absorbed in his phone. He’s always researching something. You decide to leave him be - now is not the time.

Thankfully, the restrooms are inside the little mini mart, and surprisingly clean, too. It isn’t until the door swings shut behind you that you start to tremble uncontrollably; the last time you were in a public restroom, something nearly killed you. If Sam hadn’t gotten there in time...

The lights are bright and the room feels fresh. All the stalls are empty, so you know you are alone - not that it’s any consolation. Sam’s all the way out in the parking lot this time. Fat chance he’d show up in time to save you.

Deep breath. Just do it already. The more time you stand here thinking about what might happen, the worse your chances to escape unscathed. With one last glance at the door, you bolt into the nearest stall and manage to unbutton your jeans faster than you’ve ever done before as the walls move in on you.

You nearly fall over jumping up from the toilet when the door opens, but the sound of two chatty voices relieves you. Thank God they can’t see you act like a fool.

It feels good to breathe again outside of the restroom. You head to the drink cooler for something heavy on the caffeine, grab a carbonated energy drink, and turn around into Sam’s chest. “Sorry,” you say as you step back.

“Are you okay?” he asks you. He doesn’t look angry anymore.

You nod. “Fine. Survived the bathroom, so.”

He takes a deep breath and tucks a long lock of brown hair behind his ear. “Listen, I wasn’t... I don’t want you to think-”

“There you are. C’mon, guys, let’s hit the road,” Dean says, waving at you from the other end of the aisle. “We got to go.”

Sam presses his lips and gestures for you to go ahead.

As you turn the corner outside the minimart with your bag of snacks in hand, you stop short; a guy in a black trenchcoat and tie is standing in the middle of the sidewalk, facing you. “Excuse me,” you say as you step to the right to go around him.

He matches your step, standing in your way again.

You look up to see a smirk on his bearded face. “I’m sorry, you first,” you say, and gesture for him to go past you.

The smirk turns into a grin. “Well, this is an interesting turn of events,” he says.

What’s an English guy doing here, in the middle of nowhere USA? “What?” He must be lost.

“I should have known.” His hands are in his pockets as he eyes you and clicks his tongue.

“Hey, asswipe!” Dean shouts from the car.

“Miss me much?” the bearded man calls back, though his eyes are locked on you.

“[Y/N], back away,” Dean tells you as he walks toward the man with a knife in his hand. “What are you doing, Crowley?”

Crowley? The King of Hell, Crowley?

“Yes, that one,” Crowley says to you. “Pleasure, I’m sure.”

Shit!

“Language,” Crowley says, admonishing you like a child.

“[Y/N]!” Sam yells from behind you and before you know it, he’s pulled you behind his protective stance. “So help me, Crowley, you lay one finger-”

“Moose, yammering on as usual. I’m not here for her, you imbecile. Well, not in the way you think.” He turns toward Dean, now only steps away with the blade between them. “Is that any way to treat an old friend?”

“Friend, my ass,” Dean spits.

“Now, now. Let’s not get our dangly bits in a vice. I hear you boys have been having a bit of trouble. I think I can help.”

“I’m listening,” Dean says, but the blade stays put.

Crowley looks back at you as you peek around Sam’s shoulder. “That one’s drawing a lot of attention down below.”

“You have any idea where the demon who’s possessing her friend is hiding?”

“Do I? I do. And since all those ungrateful little shits are working against me, I’ll hand him over. No strings attached.”

“What’s in it for you?” Sam demands.

“Moose, I’m hurt,” Crowley feigns offense with a hand over his heart - or, where there would be one. Do demons have hearts? “Please tell me you didn’t drag a wannabe hunter out here with you to look for a demon.”

People start to notice something off between the four of you as they’re pumping gas and walking in and out of the mini mart. You’re drawing attention here, too.

“Perhaps we should find a more suitable place to discuss it.” Just like that, Crowley is gone - vanished into thin air - leaving behind a single text message on Dean’s phone.