42. Indianapolis

"Crowley's really gone off the rails," I mutter as I help Dean unload the Impala. "I mean, he's been the least of our worries, and now all of a sudden he wants the tablet so damn badly."

"He's never been right in the head, Max."

"Oof!" I nearly fall with the bag in my arms. "We really need all this?"

"To keep away demons? Yeah. You can never be too safe."

I follow Dean to the room Sam had just gone to find. He'd disappeared inside, so I'm guessing whoever it was is getting the rundown of things right now. I grunt as I keep the bag in my arms.

"You don't think Crowley would try two at the same time, do you?"

"What? Two different deaths? He probably didn't think about it. Don't let any demon hear you say that, Max. It'll give them ideas."

Dean knocks on the door before he wrenches it open.

"Sarah," he says with a sigh. "Long time."

"Move in, Dean, or I'm dropping this on my foot." The moment my feet hit carpet flooring, I drop the bag of stuff and heave in a breath. "Do you guys carry boulders in these things?"

"Who's this?" asks a female voice. I stand up straight, turn my head to see a fair complexion woman with raven-dark hair looking at me curiously. She's sitting on the bed with Sam, who probably told her everything.

"The name's Max," I puff. "No, not a Winchester. More like a..."

"Friend," Dean chimes in.

I glower at him. "Friend. Right."

"What are you doing in Indy?" Dean directs the question at Sarah as he puts the stuff on the floor.

"I...was scouting an estate sale for my dad," she tells him.

"Look, we're gonna put Devil's traps everywhere—the windows, the doors," Sam tells Sarah. "We've got holy water, an exorcism ready to play on a loop, and anything that comes through that door—it's meat. Look, I know this is insane, but insane is kind of what we do. We'll keep you safe."

"Okay."

"Okay?" I tilt my head. "That's it?"

"They've done it before."

The first thing that gets done is the salt lines on the door and the windows.

"Help me out, Max." Dean tosses me a spray paint can before moving to one of the windows.

"Uh, Dean? I didn't take Devil Trap Drawing in school." I rattle the can.

"Grab a window and watch me. Mirror what I do."

"If you say so."

I watch with keen intent and try my best to replicate what Dean's doing on the windows.

"What's so amusing?" I ask. I saw his half-smirk out of the corner of my eye.

"You."

I snort. "Being artistic isn't a skill of mine." I chuckle. "Let's see those black-eyed bastards try to get in here now." I step away from my artwork.

"Mm, not bad for a first attempt."

"Shouldn't we be armed up to our eyeballs, just in case?"

"You have doubt in our methods?"

"Just want to cover all the bases," I say.

"Well, for close encounters."

I look down, feeling my familiar-almost-not-familiar-now shank. "I've been forgetting that a lot lately."

"It's because you know you're safe with us."

I look through my lashes, smiling abashedly. "Or I've just forgotten it a lot." My fingers curl around my old weapon while his fingers encase my hand.

I jump as the phone in Sarah's room goes off. Dean lets my hand go and puts it on speaker.

"Crowley," he greets the King of Hell bitterly.

"Five...Four...Trios...Zwei...uno."

"Sarah!" Sam shouts. I run the minute Sarah drops to the floor, choking. I'm hovering just as bad as Sam is. Hovering but having no idea what to do. "Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey!"

"Sarah!" I squeak. "Can you hear us? Sarah!"

"She's dying, and there's nothing you can do about it," Crowley leers through the phone.

"You fucking son of a bitch!" I roar.

"Son of a witch, actually. My mommy taught me a few tricks."

"It's a spell," Sam realizes. "Find the hex bag."

I get off my feet and aid Dean in tearing the room apart, searching for the little bag that's slowly killing Sarah. Dean tackles the bed while I flip through the drawers and under the bed, in the bathroom.

"I thought of sending in a few of my bruisers, really let them go to town. But then, well, trial one was kill a Hellhound. Trial two was rescue a soul from the pit. So, from here on, I'm gonna keep everything Hell-related—demons, et cetera—away from you. Safe side and all that—plus, I just thought it seemed fitting. From what I understand, Sammy took that bird's breath away."

If Crowley were here, I would love to punch him in the throat. He knows what the third trial is. Too bad he's not stupid.

Sarah's choking noises don't help our search become successful. I'm becoming frantic, feeling the panic settle in my chest. I look around wildly, trying to figure out what else Dean and I haven't covered yet. He's currently ripping apart the bed, tearing off the sheets. I aid and slice open the pillows, exploding feathers everywhere.

"What's the line? 'Saving people, hunting things—the family business.' Well, I think the people you save, they're how you justify your pathetic little lives. The alcoholism, the collateral damage, the pain you've caused—the one thing that allows you to sleep at night, the one thing is knowing that these folks are out there, still out there happy and healthy because of you, you great, big, bloody heroes!"

"Hey, hey!" I hear Sam panic. "You're gonna be okay."

"Come on, come on," I whisper desperately. I look at Dean, and I tear open the mattress next with my shank.

"Sarah? They're your life's work, and I'm going to rip it apart piece by piece because I can, because you can't stop me, and because when they're all gone, what will you have left?"

"No," I hear Sam. "No, no, no. No. No, please no."

I stop my frantic search and see Sam over Sarah's unmoving body. The dread crushes me. He got away with it. He fucking got away with it. I'm breathing heavily now out of anger, out of frustration. She died right in front of us!

I have to lean against the torn bed to keep myself steady. My eyes can't remove themselves from Sarah's body. Sarah, who had lived thanks to the boys. Sarah, who, judging by the ring on her finger, was married. She probably had a child too. Crowley has no soul. He's a monster. A conniving monster. He shouldn't be King of Hell, he should rot there. My hands ball into fists, and I feel something digging into my palms.

"You want to keep those people alive. I want complete and utter surrender. The tablet, the trials—you'll give them up, or we'll keep doing this dance. Your choice, my darlings. Oh, and one more thing. I haven't forgotten our date, Maxi." I can practically hear Crowley smiling. "In fact...though you're way down on the list, you're being moved up a bit. Oh, yes, Maxi, it's coming. A few days from now. Until then, poppet. I look forward to our date."

The call disconnects, and I feel as though someone's paralyzed me. The only thing that makes me flinch is seeing a phone launched across my vision and hearing it break apart. I swallow the lump down as my eyes fall onto the bag amidst all the pieces of technology.

"Max," Dean says slowly. He sounds like he's in a tunnel. "Max." I flinch as he's in front of me. I can't meet his gaze right now. "What's Crowley talking about?"

I peek past Dean to see Sam, who looks absolutely distraught, probably more than Dean and I combined. From what I understand, Sammy took that bird's breath away. I feel a sharp pain in my heart. Sam probably loved her at one point in time, way back in the day.

I feel sick to my stomach.

"Y-you okay?" I ask Sam.

"What do you think?" He's not harsh with me.

"Look," Dean cuts in, "I know it's bad right now, okay, but we stick to the plan. We shut down Hell."

"How, exactly?"

"We get a demon—"

"How?" I croak. I clear my throat. "You heard Crowley. He's not gonna let one near us, and without a demon, all we can do is sit back and watch people you know, people you saved, die like Sarah."

"So what are you saying, Max?"

"She's saying...Maybe this isn't one we can win," Sam speaks for me. "Maybe we should just take the deal."

"We'll figure this out," Dean insists. "We will. Guys, we'll get it done. We'll kick it in the ass like we always do. Are you with me?"

I'm too stuck in shock to really answer. I'm lucky I spoke when I did. Oh, yes, Maxi, it's coming. A few days from now. Until then, poppet. I look forward to our date. I grab at my head with my free hand, feeling its thundering pulse.

"W-we need to clean this up," I say numbly, focusing on Sarah's body again. "Or at least call it in so the police can take care of her."

"I'll call it in." Dean steps out of the room.

I look at Sam. "I'm sorry, about her."

"She was married, had a baby turning a year old next month." He runs his hands through his hair. "Whoa, hey, hey." Sam trots to me, uncurling my other fist.

"Oh." I look down, seeing a nice red cut, with blood running along the lines on my palm, dripping on the floor. The shank is covered in red. "I-I didn't realize..."

"Uh, here." Sam runs to one of the bags and pulls out a cloth. He moves the blade away and begins to wrap it around the cut. "Just until we get it properly fixed at the bunker."

"Thanks."

"What did Crowley mean, Max?"

I look Sam right in the eyes, and I want to confess right now. I don't think I can lie my way out of this when Crowley made it so plainly clear that I'm next on the kill list, but for a different reason. A reason the Winchesters should know about. You have to tell them now, there's no other choice.

"That's something you both should be in the room for," I say quietly. "When we get to the bunker."

Sam nods, and the silence deafens as Dean comes back into the room. Something's changed in him. He doesn't say a word, doesn't even meet our eyes as he grabs one of the bags and heads back out the door. I can feel the guilt creeping in. I tear off some skin on my lower lip, focusing on the bloodying cloth on my hand.

I know Crowley's words are stuck in his mind, about me. About how I've only got a few days left on Earth. How I've got a few days left to plan my escape and my survival. How I've got a few days to avoid becoming dog food.

Oh, yes, Maxi, it's coming. A few days from now. Until then, poppet. I look forward to our date.

**I remember Sarah. And loved her. And the fact she had a family and Crowley took it away broke my heart. I really think she would've been a decent addition to the hunting party if she'd really had the drive for it.

Sam and Sarah would've been the best couple...

On another heartbreaking note, now Max has absolutely no other choice but to tell the brothers now.

At last, you, like Sam and Dean, will understand why Max made a crossroads deal with Crowley.

But, that won't be until next chapter, dearies. Your patience will be rewarded. It always is.**