Chapter Text
“Brady?” Sam stared at him, his college friend.
Brady chuckled at his shocked expression. “Brady hasn’t been Brady in years. Not since…oh, middle of our sophomore year?”
“What?” breathed Sam.
(Y/N)’s eyes widened. Someone at Stanford had become a demon and just…existed with Sam? For years? They looked at Sam worriedly. There was no way he couldn’t freak out at the information. (Y/N) knew they probably would if they were Sam.
“That’s right,” said Brady. “You had a devil on your shoulder even back then.”
Sam’s chest began to heave as he took labored breaths.
“Alright, now,” continued Brady. “Let it all sink in.”
“You son of a bitch,” said Sam. Brady grinned. “You son of a bitch! You introduced me to Jess!” He surged towards Brady, and Dean and (Y/N) grabbed him.
“Ding, ding! I think he’s got it!” said Brady, laughing as Sam fought to get at him.
“Damn it, Sam!” said Dean.
“Sam!” said (Y/N).
“I’m gonna kill you!” shouted Sam.
Fortunately, before their lead was killed, Dean and (Y/N) managed to shove him out of the room. The instance he was let go, Sam tried to get back to the door, but Dean grabbed him again.
“Hey! That’s enough!” he said firmly.
“Get out of my way,” said Sam, seething.
Dean gently moved (Y/N) to the side so that he could face Sam if needed. “No.”
“Get out of my way, Dean,” said Sam, fury in his veins and voice.
“There is only one way to win,” said Dean sharply. “And it ain’t by killing that thing in there.”
Sam took deep, angry breaths. Crowley strolled into the room, bored as he regarded Sam. He had known this would be the reaction, and that was why he wanted to bring Brady somewhere else.
“Well,” he said. “Sounds like you got him nice and fluffed. Thanks so much.” He strolled towards Brady.
“Listen to me,” said Dean. “We need Pestilence to get at the Devil, and we need Brady to get to Pestilence.”
“Why?” snapped Sam. “Because Crowley said so? Because we trust him now? Like I trusted Ruby? Like I trusted Brady back at school?” Sam couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not when it had nearly killed (Y/N) and released the Devil before.
“No one trusts Crowley,” said (Y/N). “But we need Brady alive if we’re going to put Lucifer back in his cage. So until we get that, we keep him alive. Kill him afterwards. Who cares.”
Dean gestured to (Y/N), and Sam exhaled very, very slowly. His fury and grief wouldn’t abate soon.
l
Crowley emerged from the room with Brady, and Dean and (Y/N) looked up.
“How’d it go?” said Dean. He had a beer in hand and leaned back in the armchair. “He buy your girl scout cookies?”
“Not yet,” said Crowley. He raised a brow. “Where’s your moose?”
“Hopefully cooling off,” said (Y/N).
“Alright, then,” said Crowley. “Get bent.”
Dean looked up. “You going somewhere?”
“Well, he won’t budge, so now I go stick my neck out,” said Crowley.
Dean sat up and leaned forward with interest, and (Y/N) tilted their head. “What are you gonna do?”
“Exactly the kind of desperate swashbuckle I’ve been trying to avoid,” said Crowley. “Now I go kick open a hive of demons.” He paused as he headed to the door. “This whole bloody ring business better work.” He disappeared.
“You know something?” said (Y/N).
“What?” said Dean.
“If he dies, I’ll mourn it for, like, five minutes,” said (Y/N). Dean stared at them, taken aback. “He provides a lot of entertainment value in my life.”
Dean chuckled and then stood. “I’m going to the bathroom. Be right back.”
“ ‘Kay,” said (Y/N). “I’m grabbing water.” They headed towards the kitchen. They didn’t trust the sink water at all, so they peeked into the pantry.
Bang! Click. The door shut behind them, and the lock clicked.
(Y/N) cursed and tried to the doorhandle. Shit. “Sam! Dean?” They called, but they got no response.
“Sam!” Dean’s angry voice echoed down, and they heard a pounding at a door.
Oh, no… (Y/N)’s eyes widened. Sam had locked them and Dean up, and now he had free reign to get at Brady.
“Damn it, Sam, don’t do it!” shouted Dean.
“Sam, think!” shouted (Y/N). “Don’t be stupid!”
The pair didn’t stop banging on the door and shouting at him until they heard him calling back.
“Hey, hey, hey!” said Sam. “Alright, wait!” He opened the pantry door, and (Y/N) shoved past him while he let Dean out.
“What happened?” said Dean instantly.
“Nothing,” said Sam.
“Dick, locking us up,” grumbled (Y/N).
“I’m serious, it’s fine,” said Sam.
“My ass,” said Dean, stalking towards the room Brady was in.
“Dean, I’m fine,” said Sam.
“I’ll believe that when I see you didn’t trap us to kill Brady,” said (Y/N). “Seriously, what the hell?”
Sam winced. “Sorry, (Y/N). But, like you said…we need him.”
Dean drew up short. Brady was alive—bleeding, yes, but alive. He gave a sarcastic smile at the hunters.
“Okay. Some of my insults are retracted,” said (Y/N).
“Some?” said Sam.
“You put me in the closet,” said (Y/N). “Back, for that matter.”
“God. The day I’ve had.” Crowley had returned. Some flecks of blood spattered his face, evidence of what “sticking his neck out” had entailed. Apparently, it might have been literal. Still, he strolled towards Brady without a care in the world. He grinned. “You’re going to live forever.” He chuckled.
Brady’s smirk dropped for the first time since he’d arrived. “What did you do?”
“Went over to a demons’ nest—had a little massacre,” said Crowley. “Must be losing my touch, though—let one of the little toads live. Oops.” The sarcasm dripped from his voice. He had made an intentional decision, and it was going to pay off. “Also might have given said toad the impression that you left your post last night because you and I are—wait for it—lovers in league against Satan.”
(Y/N) grinned. Crowley was a demon, but he at least made them laugh. Entertainment was hard to find in the hunter life.
Brady’s eyes closed, and he let a long sigh out with barely contained fury as he realized the position Crowley had put him in.
“Hello, darling,” said Crowley with considerable smug satisfaction. “So, now death is off the table. Now you get to be on the Boss’s eternal-torment list with little old me.”
“Oh, no, no, no, no, no,” said Brady, shaking his head and gritting his teeth.
“Something else we have in common,” continued Crowley, greatly enjoying Brady squirming, “Apart from our torrid passion, of course—craven self-preservation. So, now, why don’t you tell me where Pestilence is out?”
Brady snarled and was about to say something, but a snarl broke the silence instead. Everyone—Brady, hunters, and Crowley—straightened in alarm as they heard the telltale growls of a hellhound.
“Oh, god, Crowley,” breathed Brady.
“Was that a hellhound?” said Dean.
“Shit,” said (Y/N), touching their arm where they’d been clawed last time.
The snarling continued. “I’d say yeah,” said Crowley.
“Why was that a hellhound?” said Dean.
Crowley patted himself down and sighed as he pulled a small token out of his inside jacket pocket.
“What’s that?” said Sam, furrowing his brow.
“Tell me that’s not your magical tracking device,” said (Y/N).
“Alright, I won’t,” said Crowley.
(Y/N) groaned.
“You’re saying a hellhound followed you here?” said Sam angrily.
“Well, technically, he followed this,” said Crowley, looking at the coin.
“Get me out of here,” said Brady. “I’ll tell you anything you want.”
“Shut up,” snapped Sam.
“Hey, I’m down for leaving,” said (Y/N).
“Okay, well, then we should go,” said Dean.
“Sorry, boys,” said Crowley, throwing (Y/N) in with them (they didn’t really care). “No one knows the hounds better than I. You’re long past the point of ‘Go.’ ” He tossed the coin up, and by the time it fell down, he had disappeared.
“Damn it,” said Dean.
“I told you!” seethed Sam.
“Oh, well, good for you,” mocked Dean. “Luckily, we have salt in the kitchen.”
“I’m getting a shotgun,” said (Y/N), running into the other room to grab one.
“I’ll watch Brady,” said Sam.
Brady scoffed. “Watch me? Get me the hell out of here!”
Before Dean grabbed the salt, unfortunately, a crash echoed through the house, and the window of the kitchen broke inward as an invisible, massive hound jumped in. Dean cursed and ran back to the other room, closing the doors while (Y/N) tossed him a shotgun and raised one themself. The doors crashed open, and both fired. The hellhound yelped, but, of course, it kept going.
(Y/N) jumped to the side as it lunged, barely evading it by sound. They heard it pivot, and (Y/N)’s adrenaline thrummed. They lifted their shotgun and fumbled to fire—but it was empty. Their hands still raised, though, and all they could think was go away! The shotgun fired, but it fired nothing, and yet the hellhound yelped and back away.
Dean grabbed (Y/N) by the arm and hauled them back, glad their shotgun had gone off. (Y/N) stumbled with him, and the drumming in their mind traveled to their hands in an itch for something.
“Sammy!” shouted Dean as they backed up through the room.
“Salt?” said Sam, beginning to untie Brady to move him.
Dean’s look said it all, and (Y/N) grimaced.
“Damn it, get me out of here!” said Brady.
“Shut up!” said (Y/N), Dean, and Sam.
“Great. Just great,” said Brady, legitimately terrified.
“Hey!” said Crowley.
The sound of paws movie signaled the hellhound looking at him, as did the rest of the people present. He was standing comfortably in the hall.
(Y/N) blinked in surprise. “You’re back?”
“I’m invested,” said Crowley. “Currently. Stay!” He barked the order.
“You can control them?” said Dean.
“Not that one,” said Crowley, gesturing to the invisible one between them. He patted a giant creature beside him. “I brought my own. Mine’s bigger.”
That’s kinda badass, thought (Y/N).
Crowley grinned. “Sic him, boy!”
The bigger hellhound tore up the carpet as it thundered forward and grabbed the other hellhound. The battle was invisible, but snarls, barks, and yelps sounded, and blood splattered from wounds. As the hellhounds battled, Sam scratched the devil trap open, and the hunters, Brady, and Crowley fled. Crashes continued to echo as they ran to the impala and piled in.
“I’ll wager a thousand my pup wins,” said Crowley, fairly unconcerned.
(Y/N) got into the car and realized two demons were to their right. They sighed, just glad to be away from the hellhound as the impala sped away down the dirt road.
l
Brady handed Crowley a slip of paper. “Yeah. I’m sure Pestilence will be there.”
“Thanks,” said Crowley casually.
“What do you think?” said Dean as Crowley looked at the address.
“It’s good,” said Crowley, handing it to him. He smirked at Brady. “You got no reason to lie, have you? Like I said before, you’re in my boat now.”
“You’ve screwed me,” said Brady. “For eternity.”
“Nah,” said Crowley. “Won’t last that long. Trust me.”
He, (Y/N), and Dean turned their back on him and began to walk out of the alley. (Y/N) smirked as Brady stiffened and realized Sam was being left alone with him.
“Where are you going?” said Brady nervously.
“I’m going to do you a favor,” said Crowley. He glanced at Sam. “I expect we’ll be in touch.”
(Y/N) finished a salt line in the alley, trapping Brady but letting Crowley pass first. He’d earned a head start if they decided to hunt him. And, hey, they still needed to find Death. He could come in useful. Crowley nodded to them. They finished the line after he passed.
“What is this?” said Brady as Sam, Dean, and (Y/N) faced him.
“All those angels, all those demons, all those sons of bitches—they just don’t get it, do they?” sighed Dean.
“No, they don’t, Dean,” said Sam, his dark gaze on Brady.
“See, Brady, you’re scared of Hell and Heaven,” said (Y/N). “But we’re the ones you should be afraid of.” They grinned, and the lamplights flickered.
Brady scoffed. Sam raised the demon knife.
“I bet this is a real moment for you, big boy,” jeered Brady. “Gonna make you feel all better?”
“It’s a start,” said Sam, voice low with anger.
“Gonna make up for all the times that we yanked your chain—Yellow Eyes, Ruby, me?” said Brady, tone overconfident, but he kept taking steps back as Sam approached. “But it wasn’t all our fault, was it? No, no, no, no. You’re the one who trusted us. You’re the one who let us into your life, let us whisper in your ear over and over and over again. Ever wonder why that is, Sammy? Ever wonder why we were so in your blind spot?” His back hit the wall, and he knew he had nowhere to run, but Brady wasn’t going down without twisting the knife of Jess’s death farther into Sam’s back. “Maybe it’s because we got the same stuff in our veins and, deep down, you know you’re just like us?”
He grinned, and Sam glared back. Brady lunged, and Sam stabbed. He ripped the knife from his front, and Brady stumbled to the wall. Sam stabbed him through the back viciously.
Brady panted. “Maybe you hate us so much because you hate what you see every time you look in the mirror? You ever think of that?!” He laughed wildly as blood dripped from his wounds. “Maybe the only difference between you and a demon is your Hell is right here.”
Sam stabbed him through the front, and Brady cried out as he was burnt from the inside out. He jerked slightly, and Sam removed the knife. The body fell limply to the ground.
Sam stared down at it. “Interesting theory.” He turned away from the corpse and didn’t look back.
l
(Y/N) stood in front of the motel mirror and stared at themself. All they could think about was the shotgun going off with nothing in it. What had created that burst of fire that had hurt the hellhound? There was literally nothing around. Only (Y/N). Their fingers twitched, and the light above them buzzed and flickered, just as it did so often when they felt too much.
Witch child.
(Y/N) felt their blood run cold, and they held the edge of the counter tightly. No. No way. The lights flickered above them, and (Y/N) saw a faint, eerie indigo flicker. They stumbled back, and they stared at their reflection in horror.
One of the bulbs above them burst.