Reckless [Dean Winchester]

42. Indianapolis

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.