42. "The World's Gone Crazy."

"Here we are," Crowley sighed. "My life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen. Single-pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace. The water damage alone—"

"My heart's bleeding for you," Dean deadpanned. "Now, how do you know about the rings?"

We were in the worst dump possible. But hey, if every demon on every level was looking for you, you'd want to hide in a dump too, someplace they wouldn't dare touch. Some place they wouldn't want to banish their worst enemies to. This place fit the bill.

It looked like the perfect setting to the opening of a horror movie. It just gave me an overall creepy vibe, and that was just from the exterior alone when we pulled up to the house.

"Well, now...I've been keeping a close eye on you lot."

"We got hex bags. We're hidden from demons," Sam insisted. I wasn't familiar with hex bags. My guess was witchcraft since it sounded like it.

"All but one. That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car—a magical coin that easily tramps your bags o' bones. It allows me to hear things, too—and, my, the things I've heard." Crowley chuckled. "So you want to cram the Devil back in the box? Cunning scheme. I want in."

"You said you could get us Pestilence," I reminded him.

"Well, now...I don't know where Pestilence is, per se. But I do know the demon who does. 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. He'll tell us where Sneezy's at."

"Well, how do we get him to spill?" Dean butted in. "Rip out his toenails?"

"No. Nuts at his pay grade don't crack. We bring him here, then I sell him."

"Sell him?" I asked slowly.

"Please. I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?"

"All right," said Dean, "so where's this demon of yours?"

"A place called Niveus Pharmaceutical."

"Sounds fancy and powerful," I noted. "Sounds about right. Aren't demons all about being power hungry?"

"Watch your tone, dearie. That tongue of yours might just get you killed one day."

"Don't think so. I can handle myself. If I can't, I know I've got protection."

Crowley scoffed. "Oh, and what happens when that protection can't reach you?"

I rolled my eyes.

So, in a silence consensus, we were prepping to head out to Niveus Pharmaceutical. Not that any of us were happy about it. I believed out of the three of us, Sam and I were tied for first when it came to hating to be near Crowley the most. The weapons we were taking were stuck in bags and plopped onto the unstable wooden table we found. Crowley had, fortunately (for him), let us be as we prepped.

"Why are we even listening to him, Dean?" Sam complained. "This is totally insane."

"I don't disagree." Dean loaded a handgun.

"One big happy family, are we, then?" Crowley sauntered back into our space. I frowned, keeping the freshly loaded gun in my hand. "Fantastic."

"You ready to go?"

"Yes. Yes. I am. Sam, keep the home fires burning. Keep your little girlfriend with you for some company."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You and Sam aren't coming."

"And why the hell not?" Sam butted in.

"Because I don't like you...I don't trust you...and—oh, yes—you keep trying to kill me. And I wouldn't put it past your girlfriend to try and pull a stunt on our way there."

"There's no damn way. This isn't gonna happen!"

"I'm not asking you, aren't I?" Crowley sassed. "'Cause you're not invited. I'm asking you"—he jabbed a finger at Dean—"what's it gonna be?" He scoffed. "Gentlemen, lady...Enjoy your last few sunsets."

"Wait," Dean caved. I closed my eyes and held my hands into fists. "I'll go. What can I say? I believe the guy. Just keep it clean while we're gone, would you?"

"You're disgusting," I snapped at Dean.

He chuckled. "But you tolerate me."

"I have no choice to." My lips quirked into a smile.

The moment Dean and Crowley left for the Impala, Sam grabbed a bottle of whiskey (from where, I wasn't sure) and dialed Bobby. I looked out one of the windows as a demon and Sam's older brother drove off to capture another demon. I raked my hand through my hair.

"And then Dean just walks right out the door with Crowley," I heard Sam going on. He must've dived into his story the moment Bobby answered the phone. He scoffed. "Yeah, maybe." A sigh. "Hey, Bobby?"

Sam piqued my interest. I crept until I was just outside the room he was standing in. I believed I could faintly hear Bobby on the other end of the phone too. Good vantage point.

"Uh...Remember that time you were possessed?"

Who wouldn't?

"Yeah. Rings a bell."

"When Meg told you to kill Dean, you didn't. You took your body back."

"Just long enough to shank myself, yeah."

"Well, how'd you do it? I mean, how'd you take back the wheel?"

"Why are you asking, Sam?"

Yeah, Sam, why are you asking? Something told me that there was a bad reason behind it. My stomach had snakes twisting in it.

"Say we can open the cage," Sam proposed. "Great. But then what? W-we just lead the Devil to the edge and get him to jump in?"

"You got me."

"What if you guys lead the Devil to the edge and I jump in?"

I kept my hand over my mouth so I wouldn't let him know I was eavesdropping. He's going down a bad path. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea.

"Sam," I heard Bobby say warningly.

"It'd be just like when you turned the knife around on yourself. One action—just one leap."

"Are you idjits trying to kill me?!"

"Bobby—"

"We just got done talking your brother off the ledge, and now you're lining up to say 'yes'?"

"It's not like that. I'm not gonna do it. Not unless we all agree. But I think we got to look at our options."

Not everyone will agree with that. Hell, nobody should agree with that! It's...it's just asking for trouble. I wanted to jump in right now, oh so badly! But I couldn't. This wasn't the time to address Sam about his idea. Not yet. But soon.

"This isn't an option, Sam."

"Why not?"

"You can't do it. What I did was a million-to-one, and that was some pissant demon I was brain-wrestling. You're talking about taking control back from Satan himself."

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Kid...it's called 'possession' for a reason. You, of all people, ought to know."

"I'm strong enough," Sam insisted.

"You ain't. He's gonna find every chink in your armor, Sam, and use it against you—your fear, your grief, your anger. And let's face it—you're not exactly Mr. Anger Management. How are you gonna control the Devil when you can't control yourself?"

I had listened to enough at that point. I left my post and returned to the dirty, cracked window I had previously stood before. My shoulders shook. How could Sam even think about a ridiculous idea like that? I need to relax, focus on the task at hand. But this needs to be addressed. I've got to tell Dean if Sam doesn't soon. I need to confront him about this plan, if that's what that's even considered.

I explored the broken-down house. All I found was a lot of empty space, dust, dirt, grime, and an upstairs. I tried my luck and sat on the lowest step, with it creaking under my weight. I kept my hands together, biting my lip.

Sam couldn't think like this. Nobody would like the plan. Bobby already didn't, and I sure as hell didn't. Dean would absolutely hate it. Bobby was right; Sam's idea wasn't an option. It would never be an option. Nobody would let it get that far.

There had to be another way than what he suggested.

"Hey."

I picked my head up to see Sam watching me with soft, hazel eyes. His idea clung to the back of my mind, and I was temporarily propelled back into my nightmares. That Sam wasn't Sam, but Lucifer. Lucifer, who wanted Sam's body so bad that he was willing to use those he cared about against him. Lucifer, who seemed to star in my dreams more often that I liked.

"Not a lot to do here," I noted, looking around. "This place is a dump."

"I don't disagree there. Did you investigate upstairs yet?"

I shook my head.

"We've got time. Want to check it out?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

We began our adventure upstairs, just exploring. It helped pass the time a little bit. But our adventure wasn't all that exciting. We found empty bedrooms and bathrooms, and a spare room or two. All looked in need of some dire repair. Since neither of us wanted to go back downstairs, we settled for sitting on one of the beds, the one that looked least disgusting.

The silence almost suffocated me. Since our exploration was over, my mind was back to my worries. I just couldn't wrap my head around it. The whole point of this was to not let Lucifer take over Sam's body. And now, here he was, willing to let it happen? Does he really believe he'll be able to win over the Devil once he's inside? Sam may be strong, but even I have to doubt he's that strong. Like Bobby had said: Lucifer wasn't your ordinary demon. Hell, he wasn't even a demon. He wouldn't be an ordinary possession situation.

My mind kept going back to my family, more specifically Monica. The nightmare I had about her, the demon possessing her. A demon possession was bad enough. But being possessed by Satan himself? That seemed like a whole new level.

I closed my eyes, feeling my head throb.

"Headache?" Sam murmured.

"Mhm. You guys didn't think to pack some Motrin or Ibuprofen or something?"

"We don't think that far ahead."

"Mm, you probably should start that habit. You tell Bobby what's going on?"

"Yeah."

"How'd he take it?"

"He's feeling how Dean is about the whole thing: it's insane, but it doesn't sound as insane as it would before."

I sighed. "The apocalypse really shakes a lot up, huh?"

I felt Sam kiss the top of my head. Focus on the now. Don't focus on what could be. It's Sam I'm with. Lucifer will never be in Sam's body.

"Something wrong, Kota?"

"Just the headache. I mean, this whole apocalypse deal, and now we're teaming up with a demon. The world's gone crazy."

"Our world's been crazy, you just haven't noticed."

"I also haven't been hunting creatures for my entire life," I teased. I opened my eyes and sat up, leaning against Sam. "You know, if the apocalypse permits it, we all need a sabbatical. Just something small. Something simple. No monsters. No demons. No apocalypse." I looked up at him.

"This feels like one."

"This doesn't count." I stuck my tongue out. Our heads were pressed together, and I sighed through my nose. We needed more moments like this. Just the two of us.

"Well, I think it does."

I rolled my eyes, closing them when he kissed my cheek then worked down my neck. He moved my head so our mouths could meet. My hands found his face and his hair while his found my waist. He made me forget that we were waiting for Dean and Crowley to come back. He made me forget that this place was damaged and not the best place to be making out in.

Still, we made the best of the situation.

Everything was going fine, until the flashback happened. It wasn't a vivid picture, just vivid feelings. We weren't heading towards sex—I mean really, on this bed?—but just some of the things, even if they were little, brought back the memory.

Sam understood the moment I pushed on his chest. I started trembling, feeling tears pool in my eyes. I hated myself right now. I was ruining a nice moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing me long on the mouth. "I know better."

"I-it's okay." I sniffed. "I have to work through this, Sam. I'll get through this." I fingered his hair when he put his forehead down on mine. "One step at a time. I'm not going to let this stop us from being together like this." I searched his eyes, gray meeting hazel.

For the first time in a while, Sam genuinely smiled. It was small, but it was something. He moved a thumb over one of my cheeks. "That's my girl," he crooned. I blushed.

The loud rumble of the Impala told us the retrieval was done. How successful it was, we weren't so sure yet. Sam was the first to climb off the bed, with me right in tow. We stopped at the top of the stairs to find Crowley at the bottom.

"You two having fun up there?" he called, an impish smile on his face. "Hope we didn't interrupt something."

"You weren't. I mean, does it look like we were doing anything?"

"Kota, settle down," Sam told me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. "Where's Dean?"

"Now...For the record, I'm against this," Crowley said slowly. "Negotiating a high-level defection—it's very delicate business."

"What are you talking about?" I groaned.

"I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away...from you. He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my 'corn chute.'" Sounds like Dean. "So, go ahead. Go—ruin our last best hope. It's only the end of the world."

"What's the drama queen's problem?" I asked as Crowley disappeared. Sam and I exchanged a look before we hopped down the stairs and searched the rooms until we found Dean, with a person strapped to a chair, a dark hood covering their face. The devil's trap looked fairly fresh on the floor.

"Sam. Dak," Dean greeted us without turning to us.

"What's going on, Dean?" asked Sam.

"I need you to stay on this mission, okay? Focused."

"I don't understand. What's this all about?"

"I'm doing this 'cause I trust you."

"Trust me to what?"

"Sam?" came the voice from the hood. It cleared its throat. "Sam, is that you?"

Dean went to the demon, removing the hood. He was a pretty handsome guy, I wasn't going to lie. But then I remembered what was really under the guy's skin. My face settled into a scowl.

I looked at Sam, who almost looked spooked. I was beginning to think he was rendered speechless until he managed to form a name.

"Brady?"

**As you can clearly see, Kota's still struggling a little bit. They're both trying to make the best of things. 

And Sam's "genius" plan? Wonderful, isn't it? Please tell me you understood the sarcasm there.

Now, the next chapter *rubs hands together*...well, you'll see.**