You Found Me |Sam Winchester| [2015 Wattys Winner]

46. "The Eleventh Hour."

46. "The Eleventh Hour."

"Well, it's nice to actually score a home run for once, ain't it?" Bobby said rather proudly.

I was a bit refreshed after my nap in the Impala on the ride back from Iowa. The boys had filled Bobby in on what happened during my nap. We showed him the ring as proof once we got back to the house.

I looked to Sam, who didn't seem to be in a celebrating mood. His brows were pulled together in concentration.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"Last thing Pestilence said. 'It's too late,'" he told me.

"He get specific?" Bobby jumped back in.

"No."

"We're just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere," Dean explained. I probably wasn't too worried because I was still half asleep. "So please tell us you have actual good news."

"Chicago's about to be wiped off the map," Bobby reported. "Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die."

"Huh."

"I don't understand your definition of good news," Cas interjected. He'd been so quiet since we got back that I almost forgot he was around.

"Well...Death, the horseman—he's gonna be there," Bobby explained. "And if we can stop him before he kick-starts this storm, get his ring back—"

"Yeah, you make it sound so easy," Dean grumbled.

"Hell, I'm just trying to put a spin on it."

"Wait, wait, wait," I interjected, my mind suddenly alert. "How'd you piece this all together, Bobby?"

"I had, you know..." Bobby didn't meet our eyes. "Help."

"Don't be so modest," an English accent broke into the room. I spun around, gripping the desk behind me. "I barely helped at all." Sam and Dean turned as well. Crowley smiled. "Hello, boys. Lady." He inclined his head a little. "Pleasure, etcetera. Go ahead. Tell them. There's no shame in it."

"Bobby?" Sam asked warningly. "Tell us what?"

"World's gonna end," Bobby said in a low voice. "Seems stupid to get all precious over one little...soul."

"You sold your soul?" Dean said angrily.

"Oh, more like pawned it," Crowley corrected him. "I fully intend to give it back."

"Well, then give it back!" Dean was out of the chair he sat in.

"I will." Crowley looked rather offended by our lack of trust.

"Did you kiss him?" Sam asked Bobby.

"Sam!" Dean barked.

"Just wondering."

"No!" Bobby said.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said. "What?"

"Little Soul-Selling One-oh-One for you, darling: when you make a deal with a demon, it's sealed with a kiss." Crowley winked at me. My insides writhed, and I stepped closer to Sam's chair. To further prove his point, Crowley held out his phone.

My upper lip twitched. Sure enough, the picture was the proof.

"Why'd you take a picture?" Bobby snapped.