"So it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right?" I asked, "I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?"
"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music," Dean said looking at me. I shook my head "You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Kat, there's there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?"
"Unless the music was involved with Captain America...I didn't grow up with it." I admitted, shrugging "Sorry,"
Dean rolled his eyes "The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big evil dogs,"
"And now it's happening all over again," Sam noted
"Yeah,"
"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here," I said
"Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal," Dean argued
"So what, we should just leave them to die?"
"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?"
"Dean," Sam said
"All right. Fine. Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing, let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive,"
***
Sam, Dean, and I were waking up a set of wide, wooden stairs to the fourth floor of an apartment building. "What's this guy's name again?"
"George Darrow." I said "Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. Though this house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?"
"Yeah. So whatever kind of deal he made, wasn't for cash,"
"Oh, who knows." Dean said "Maybe this place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis,"
Sam sighed
"No, I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due. Hope at least he asked for something fun," Dean continued.
We reached the landing and stopped in front of apartment 4C. The floor was dusted with a fine black powder.
"Look at that," Sam said, crouching down.
"What is that, pepper?" I asked
The door opened to reveal George-a middle-aged man with graying hair, wearing a grimy t-shirt and open button-down.
"Who the hell are you?" George asked
"George Darrow?" I asked
"I'm not buying anything,"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dean said stopping the man "looks like you went for the wrong shaker there. Heh. Usually, when you want to keep something evil out you go for the salt,"
"I don't know what you talkin' about," George said
"He's talking about this," I held up the small picture "Tell me. You seen that Hellhound yet?"
"Look. We want to help." Sam told George "Please. Just five minutes,"
George showed us in and poured himself a glass whiskey. The studio apartment was filled with paintings, completed and half-finished, and a table held painting supplies.
"So what is that stuff out front?" I asked
"Goofer Dust," George replied. We looked at him blankly "What, you three think you know somethin' about somethin' but not Goofer dust?" he tossed me a brown sack, tied close with twine. I caught it.
"Well, we know a little about a lot of things." Dean said "Just enough to make us dangerous,"
"What is it?" I asked
"Hoodoo. My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons,"
"Demons we know," Dean said
"Some more than others," I muttered under my breath but George heard the comment
"Well, then. Maybe it'll do you some good." George walked over to a chair "Four minutes left,"
I glanced at Sam, who took the lead.
"Mr. Darrow. We know you're in trouble," Sam said
"Yeah, that you got yourself into," Dean muttered
"But it's not hopeless, all right?" I told George, half-directing the statement to Dean "There's gotta be something we can do,"
"Listen. I get that you three want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place," George explained
"What'd you do it for?" Dean asked
"I was weak. I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just...I just never thought about the price,"
"Was it worth it?"
"Hell no. 'Course, I asked for talent. Shoulda gone for fame. I'm still broke, and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst,"
"Go on," I told him
"Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that. After our deal was done the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but, I mean who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?"
"How many others are there?" Sam asked
"Uh, the architect, that doctor lady-I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous," George said
"Who else, George?" I asked "Come on, think,"
"One more. Uh, nice guy too. Hudson. Evan. I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for,"
"No. No, there's gotta be a way," Sam argued
"You don't get it! I don't want a way!" George admitted
"Look, you don't-"
"I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time. Okay. Time you three went, go help somebody that wants help,"
"We can't just-"
"Get out! I got work to do,"
"You don't really want to die,"
"I don't? I'm...I'm tired,"
I put a hand on Sam's shoulder "Come on, Sam,"
We left as George started painting.
YOU ARE READING
Agents of Supernatural (Marvel x Supernatural)
FanfictionKaterina Coulson, daughter to the great Phil Coulson. Coulson never wanted for his daughter to follow in his footsteps into the career path that was SHIELD, but how could she not, being raised to listen to the great stories about Captain America, ov...
