Savin' Me
Savin’ Me
Chapter 10
Chapter Wordcount: 1892
They had driven through the night after a standard salt and burn took a turn towards too close a call with the local authorities. They took turns driving, hell bent to get themselves as far away as possible, as quick as they dare, for as long as they all could hold out.
Dean and Sam’s rather impressive rap sheets aside, Casey, for all intents and purposes legally was nothing more than a walking, talking corpse…so they could not afford a run in with the law. ‘Cause you know, that would be so easy to explain away.
When the skyline finally cracked, and the sky started to turn the soft satin silver of the butt crack of dawn, Dean rubbed his eyes and set out to find them a decent motel.
Sam was curled up, rather impressively if Casey did say so, on the back seat napping. Somehow managing to fold his six foot and some odd inches frame into what actually looked like a decently comfortable position on the leather bench. Casey smiled slightly, tucking her legs up underneath herself on the seat next to Dean.
A couple more miles down the road and her hand grazed over his arm, drawing his eyes to the green road sign for lodging and Dean sighed in appreciation as he took the off-ramp.
Years of training and common sense had him pulling into a gas station before even entertaining the thought of sleeping. If for some reason they had to get out of Dodge, there was no way in Hell, no pun intended, that he was going to be caught with anything less than a full tank.
Sam mumbled and uncurled himself from the jacket that he had wrapped himself in, when the motion of the car stopped.
Dean got out, walking around to the back of the Impala, pulling the license plate down and unscrewing the gas cap.
Casey hitched herself up onto her knees and leaned over the back of the seat, carding her fingers through Sam’s sleep tousled hair.
“We’re gonna get a room, get some rest. You want anything from inside for later?”
Sam mumbled something that thankfully she actually understood as “coffee,” closing his eyes as her fingers kept dancing across his scalp.
She smiled and got out into the cool morning air, stretching the kinks out of her body.
Her hand snaked into Dean’s back pocket, drawing out his wallet and earning her an arched brow and smirk from over his shoulder.
“I’m gonna get us a couple things for later, which one am I using?” she asked, flipping out the section with a half dozen fraudulent credit cards inside.
“Use the David Gilmour,” he said, motioning with his chin.
She grinned and slipped the Visa out of its leather confines before slipping the wallet back into his pocket with an added pat and smirk before heading off to the convenience store, pulling her jacket on as she went.
She made her way through the aisles picking out some standard coffee for Dean and Sam, and something that claimed to be an instant cappuccino for herself. Snatching a couple bags of chips and beef jerky and a handful of different kinds of candy for the two human vacuum cleaners outside, before grabbing a small bottle of milk, she headed to the register, waiting for Dean to signal when he was done at the pump to pay.
Casey went out later that night to get them all something to eat and woke the boys up long enough to make sure they chewed and swallowed before allowing them to get back to sleep and curling up next to Dean.
It was only the smell of fresh brewing coffee, in the small excuse for a pot that the motel so graciously provided, that finally had them cracking their eyes open and yawing the next morning.
Sam curled in on himself in the chair by the window, sipping his coffee, two sugars, one cream, as he powered up his laptop.
Dean stumbled his way over to the small counter, scratching his stomach.
“G’morn,” he mumbled, half the words lost as he nudged Casey’s shoulder with his own, pouring a cup of the black liquid.
“Mornin,’” she smiled, nudging back and cracking open the seal to her ‘instant cappuccino.’
Dean stopped, mug halfway to his lips and stared.
“What the hell is that?”
“Cappuccino.”
“Since when do you not drink coffee?” he snorted.
“It is coffee; it’s just a different kind of coffee.”
“No…that is coffee flavored milk,” he said, still eyeing her like she had grown a second head.
She rolled her eyes as she mixed the powder in with the milk. To her credit she did put in twice the spoonfuls recommended by the label.
“Taste,” she said, lifting the cup to his face only to see him grimace and step back as if it were the plague.
“Sorry, I don’t do girly drinks, go try Sam.”
There was a vague grunt from where Sam was sitting.
“That is such bullshit, you drank a goddamn Hurricane the first time I met you.”
“That’s ‘cause I was hitting on you! That’s different,” he said, pointing a finger in her face and heading back to the bed. “I’ll take my coffee, black, like a man,” he said, plopping down on the end of the bed.
“Do I need to kick your ass just to prove I can?” she asked, with an arch of her brow.
Dean, wisely, mumbled “no”...which was rewarded with another grunt that sounded suspiciously like a laugh this time from Sam’s corner, which in turn was answered with a glare and a growled out “watch it.”
Casey again rolled her eyes, snatching clothes from her bag and headed to the bathroom.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, headed towards the door.
Dean waited until he thought she was out of sight, and until he thought Sam wasn’t watching to reach over silently and bring the creamy drink to his lips.
Casey immediately popped her head out the door, “Pansy!” she laughed, slamming the door just in time for the flying T.V. remote to collide with the door with a bang, Sam’s laugh drowning out Dean’s muttered curses.
“Hiya Sam!”
He ground his teeth together, looking up from the newspaper spread across the small café table to see the ever perky, love to hate blonde named Ruby.
“Why do you insist on ambushing me?”
“Oh honey, if I ambushed you, you wouldn’t still be breathing,” she grinned.
“Fuck you.”
“Ooo, tempting, but sorry, no can do, gotta schedule to keep, but rain check definitely.”
“What do you want?” he growled.
“World peace…and a puppy,” she smiled. “Nothing, I’m just checking in, making sure you’re not contemplating another go at a coup d’etat in that big ol’ brain of yours.”
“I thought you made it perfectly clear that wasn’t an option for me.”
“I did…just wanted to make sure you remembered. Because not only will I let Dean die if you try to go against the grain on this with me, but I’ll make sure that Hell is…well, Hell for him, no pun intended of course.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Why yes I am, but then again you don’t have much to bargain with now do ya?”
Sam outright glared, wanting to reach across the table and shove a bottle of holy water down her throat, the rest of the diner’s patrons be damned.
“Now, now Sam, don’t give me that look. Just play nice…and by my rules, or else Dean dearest goes bye bye. Kay?” she smiled, sickly sweet.
He didn’t answer.
“Alright, like I said, tight schedule and all,” she said, getting up.
By the time he turned in his booth to glare at her back she was gone.
Dean walked in the motel room door to see an angsty, pissy, brooding Sam sitting at the end of the bed just glaring at the world.
“Dude, what crawled up your ass and died?” he asked with a grimace as Casey came in behind him, shutting the door.
“Ruby.”
“Eww…want me to go get you a douche?” he ginned, thumbing over his shoulder towards the door.
Casey shook her head, closing her eyes to keep from laughing at the pure look of death that Sam slowly fixed his brother with.
“Who’s Ruby?” she interrupted, hoping to thwart any thoughts of fratricide, seeing as it just might be viewed as a justifiable homicide by the cops.
“She’s a demon,” Sam said with a sigh.
“Yea, and she’s been stalking Sam for a few months now, appearing randomly, pushing his buttons,” Dean added, shrugging off his jacket and placing the bag of take out on the small table in the corner.
“And you haven’t exorcised her why exactly?”
Sam sighed, looking down, wringing his hands together.
She arched her brow at Sam’s evasion before meeting Dean’s eyes.
He sighed, “She told him she could save me,” he said quietly.
Casey’s brow furrowed before she ran her hands up into her hair and started pacing the width of the two beds.
“Ruby…Ruby...Ruby,” she whispered to herself.
Dean and Sam shared a confused look before going back to watching her pace.
“Ruby…Ruby…”
She stopped dead in tracks between the beds.
“That bitch!”
“What?” Dean squawked.
“Bareket.”
“Bar of what?” Dean asked, eyebrow shooting high.
“It’s Latin for red Dean,” Sam said quietly, his own brow furrowed in confusion, eyes locked on Casey.
“Yea, and it’s her real name.”
“You know her?!” Dean asked, walking over.
“Know of her…the little bitch.”
“Who is she?”
Casey locked eyes with Sam and sighed.
“No one who should be pushing you around. She’s barely above that Crossroad’s Demon…way below me.”
“Which means…” Dean asked, waving his hand.
“That I can kick her ass,” she grinned. “Demons have a hierarchy, think of it like the military. She may be a corporal, but I’m a lieutenant.”
“You can control her?” Sam asked, his chest tightening in the sudden rush of maybe having the upper hand.
“Basically, she’s gotta follow my orders just like a good little soldier.”
“Wow,” Dean breathed, sitting down next to Sam at the foot of the bed. “Well…that’s good news.”
“And the closest thing we’ve had to a lead since the Crossroad’s Demon. I mean, if she’s claiming she can get you out of your deal she must know something or someone.”
“True.”
“What else has she told you?” she asked Sam.
He shook his head, wringing his hands together again.
“Nothing really, just that, she apparently wants to help me, told me not all demons want the same thing.”
“She’s lying.”
“You’re different,” he pointed out.
“That’s an entirely different situation and you know it.”
Sam nodded.
“Yea, I know,” he sighed.
“So what do we do now?” Dean asked.
“Well when does she contact you?” she asked Sam.
“Randomly…at a diner, motel room, the library once.”
Her eyes danced across the floor.
“Remember Jackson?”
“The demon dude you caught?” Dean asked, remembering the guy she had pinpointed in a diner.
“Yeah.”
“What about it?” Sam asked, leaning forward.
“We do that, every time we stop. Put a trap under your bed. That way, next time she shows, we can trap her. And then, I’ll play twenty questions and see what the bitch is up to.”
Chapter Notes: The opening scene to this (with the coffee) it actually a random scene that came to me BEFORE I wrote the story. I wrote the ending first (which I still can't believe) and then this part, and then everything else.
David Gilmour, the name that is on the credit card Dean tells Casey to use, is the lead singer of Pink Floyd, from 1968-now. From here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pink_floyd
And Bareket, Ruby's real name is Latin for red. From here: http://www.babynamesworld.com/meaning_of_Bareket.html
Previous: Chapter Nine | Next: Chapter Eleven
Chapter 10
Chapter Wordcount: 1892
They had driven through the night after a standard salt and burn took a turn towards too close a call with the local authorities. They took turns driving, hell bent to get themselves as far away as possible, as quick as they dare, for as long as they all could hold out.
Dean and Sam’s rather impressive rap sheets aside, Casey, for all intents and purposes legally was nothing more than a walking, talking corpse…so they could not afford a run in with the law. ‘Cause you know, that would be so easy to explain away.
When the skyline finally cracked, and the sky started to turn the soft satin silver of the butt crack of dawn, Dean rubbed his eyes and set out to find them a decent motel.
Sam was curled up, rather impressively if Casey did say so, on the back seat napping. Somehow managing to fold his six foot and some odd inches frame into what actually looked like a decently comfortable position on the leather bench. Casey smiled slightly, tucking her legs up underneath herself on the seat next to Dean.
A couple more miles down the road and her hand grazed over his arm, drawing his eyes to the green road sign for lodging and Dean sighed in appreciation as he took the off-ramp.
Years of training and common sense had him pulling into a gas station before even entertaining the thought of sleeping. If for some reason they had to get out of Dodge, there was no way in Hell, no pun intended, that he was going to be caught with anything less than a full tank.
Sam mumbled and uncurled himself from the jacket that he had wrapped himself in, when the motion of the car stopped.
Dean got out, walking around to the back of the Impala, pulling the license plate down and unscrewing the gas cap.
Casey hitched herself up onto her knees and leaned over the back of the seat, carding her fingers through Sam’s sleep tousled hair.
“We’re gonna get a room, get some rest. You want anything from inside for later?”
Sam mumbled something that thankfully she actually understood as “coffee,” closing his eyes as her fingers kept dancing across his scalp.
She smiled and got out into the cool morning air, stretching the kinks out of her body.
Her hand snaked into Dean’s back pocket, drawing out his wallet and earning her an arched brow and smirk from over his shoulder.
“I’m gonna get us a couple things for later, which one am I using?” she asked, flipping out the section with a half dozen fraudulent credit cards inside.
“Use the David Gilmour,” he said, motioning with his chin.
She grinned and slipped the Visa out of its leather confines before slipping the wallet back into his pocket with an added pat and smirk before heading off to the convenience store, pulling her jacket on as she went.
She made her way through the aisles picking out some standard coffee for Dean and Sam, and something that claimed to be an instant cappuccino for herself. Snatching a couple bags of chips and beef jerky and a handful of different kinds of candy for the two human vacuum cleaners outside, before grabbing a small bottle of milk, she headed to the register, waiting for Dean to signal when he was done at the pump to pay.
Casey went out later that night to get them all something to eat and woke the boys up long enough to make sure they chewed and swallowed before allowing them to get back to sleep and curling up next to Dean.
It was only the smell of fresh brewing coffee, in the small excuse for a pot that the motel so graciously provided, that finally had them cracking their eyes open and yawing the next morning.
Sam curled in on himself in the chair by the window, sipping his coffee, two sugars, one cream, as he powered up his laptop.
Dean stumbled his way over to the small counter, scratching his stomach.
“G’morn,” he mumbled, half the words lost as he nudged Casey’s shoulder with his own, pouring a cup of the black liquid.
“Mornin,’” she smiled, nudging back and cracking open the seal to her ‘instant cappuccino.’
Dean stopped, mug halfway to his lips and stared.
“What the hell is that?”
“Cappuccino.”
“Since when do you not drink coffee?” he snorted.
“It is coffee; it’s just a different kind of coffee.”
“No…that is coffee flavored milk,” he said, still eyeing her like she had grown a second head.
She rolled her eyes as she mixed the powder in with the milk. To her credit she did put in twice the spoonfuls recommended by the label.
“Taste,” she said, lifting the cup to his face only to see him grimace and step back as if it were the plague.
“Sorry, I don’t do girly drinks, go try Sam.”
There was a vague grunt from where Sam was sitting.
“That is such bullshit, you drank a goddamn Hurricane the first time I met you.”
“That’s ‘cause I was hitting on you! That’s different,” he said, pointing a finger in her face and heading back to the bed. “I’ll take my coffee, black, like a man,” he said, plopping down on the end of the bed.
“Do I need to kick your ass just to prove I can?” she asked, with an arch of her brow.
Dean, wisely, mumbled “no”...which was rewarded with another grunt that sounded suspiciously like a laugh this time from Sam’s corner, which in turn was answered with a glare and a growled out “watch it.”
Casey again rolled her eyes, snatching clothes from her bag and headed to the bathroom.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, headed towards the door.
Dean waited until he thought she was out of sight, and until he thought Sam wasn’t watching to reach over silently and bring the creamy drink to his lips.
Casey immediately popped her head out the door, “Pansy!” she laughed, slamming the door just in time for the flying T.V. remote to collide with the door with a bang, Sam’s laugh drowning out Dean’s muttered curses.
“Hiya Sam!”
He ground his teeth together, looking up from the newspaper spread across the small café table to see the ever perky, love to hate blonde named Ruby.
“Why do you insist on ambushing me?”
“Oh honey, if I ambushed you, you wouldn’t still be breathing,” she grinned.
“Fuck you.”
“Ooo, tempting, but sorry, no can do, gotta schedule to keep, but rain check definitely.”
“What do you want?” he growled.
“World peace…and a puppy,” she smiled. “Nothing, I’m just checking in, making sure you’re not contemplating another go at a coup d’etat in that big ol’ brain of yours.”
“I thought you made it perfectly clear that wasn’t an option for me.”
“I did…just wanted to make sure you remembered. Because not only will I let Dean die if you try to go against the grain on this with me, but I’ll make sure that Hell is…well, Hell for him, no pun intended of course.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Why yes I am, but then again you don’t have much to bargain with now do ya?”
Sam outright glared, wanting to reach across the table and shove a bottle of holy water down her throat, the rest of the diner’s patrons be damned.
“Now, now Sam, don’t give me that look. Just play nice…and by my rules, or else Dean dearest goes bye bye. Kay?” she smiled, sickly sweet.
He didn’t answer.
“Alright, like I said, tight schedule and all,” she said, getting up.
By the time he turned in his booth to glare at her back she was gone.
Dean walked in the motel room door to see an angsty, pissy, brooding Sam sitting at the end of the bed just glaring at the world.
“Dude, what crawled up your ass and died?” he asked with a grimace as Casey came in behind him, shutting the door.
“Ruby.”
“Eww…want me to go get you a douche?” he ginned, thumbing over his shoulder towards the door.
Casey shook her head, closing her eyes to keep from laughing at the pure look of death that Sam slowly fixed his brother with.
“Who’s Ruby?” she interrupted, hoping to thwart any thoughts of fratricide, seeing as it just might be viewed as a justifiable homicide by the cops.
“She’s a demon,” Sam said with a sigh.
“Yea, and she’s been stalking Sam for a few months now, appearing randomly, pushing his buttons,” Dean added, shrugging off his jacket and placing the bag of take out on the small table in the corner.
“And you haven’t exorcised her why exactly?”
Sam sighed, looking down, wringing his hands together.
She arched her brow at Sam’s evasion before meeting Dean’s eyes.
He sighed, “She told him she could save me,” he said quietly.
Casey’s brow furrowed before she ran her hands up into her hair and started pacing the width of the two beds.
“Ruby…Ruby...Ruby,” she whispered to herself.
Dean and Sam shared a confused look before going back to watching her pace.
“Ruby…Ruby…”
She stopped dead in tracks between the beds.
“That bitch!”
“What?” Dean squawked.
“Bareket.”
“Bar of what?” Dean asked, eyebrow shooting high.
“It’s Latin for red Dean,” Sam said quietly, his own brow furrowed in confusion, eyes locked on Casey.
“Yea, and it’s her real name.”
“You know her?!” Dean asked, walking over.
“Know of her…the little bitch.”
“Who is she?”
Casey locked eyes with Sam and sighed.
“No one who should be pushing you around. She’s barely above that Crossroad’s Demon…way below me.”
“Which means…” Dean asked, waving his hand.
“That I can kick her ass,” she grinned. “Demons have a hierarchy, think of it like the military. She may be a corporal, but I’m a lieutenant.”
“You can control her?” Sam asked, his chest tightening in the sudden rush of maybe having the upper hand.
“Basically, she’s gotta follow my orders just like a good little soldier.”
“Wow,” Dean breathed, sitting down next to Sam at the foot of the bed. “Well…that’s good news.”
“And the closest thing we’ve had to a lead since the Crossroad’s Demon. I mean, if she’s claiming she can get you out of your deal she must know something or someone.”
“True.”
“What else has she told you?” she asked Sam.
He shook his head, wringing his hands together again.
“Nothing really, just that, she apparently wants to help me, told me not all demons want the same thing.”
“She’s lying.”
“You’re different,” he pointed out.
“That’s an entirely different situation and you know it.”
Sam nodded.
“Yea, I know,” he sighed.
“So what do we do now?” Dean asked.
“Well when does she contact you?” she asked Sam.
“Randomly…at a diner, motel room, the library once.”
Her eyes danced across the floor.
“Remember Jackson?”
“The demon dude you caught?” Dean asked, remembering the guy she had pinpointed in a diner.
“Yeah.”
“What about it?” Sam asked, leaning forward.
“We do that, every time we stop. Put a trap under your bed. That way, next time she shows, we can trap her. And then, I’ll play twenty questions and see what the bitch is up to.”
Chapter Notes: The opening scene to this (with the coffee) it actually a random scene that came to me BEFORE I wrote the story. I wrote the ending first (which I still can't believe) and then this part, and then everything else.
David Gilmour, the name that is on the credit card Dean tells Casey to use, is the lead singer of Pink Floyd, from 1968-now. From here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pink_floyd
And Bareket, Ruby's real name is Latin for red. From here: http://www.babynamesworld.com/meaning_of_Bareket.html
Previous: Chapter Nine | Next: Chapter Eleven