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“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” Grady said and Jerome hushed him. “Well, it’s not,” he muttered sulkily.

Lorcan continued standing there, his hands on his hips, unbelieving. “Renegotiate our pay,” he repeated, and told himself he needed these two alive and functioning until he got the Cup. After he got the Cup, he’d find another use for them. Zombie slaves, maybe. Grady would make a good zombie. He said, “Okay. We’ll renegotiate, but I’m not paying you another cent until the Cup is in my hands and that smug Winchester bastard is good and dead. Preferably on my altar. Get out of here, you cowards.”

They practically fell over each other in their eagerness to get out of the study, and Lorcan sat at his desk with his head in his hand. After a moment he got out the bloody handkerchief, but the thought of torturing Dean Winchester where he couldn’t watch held no appeal. It was so much better when he could hear them scream.

He sighed and put it away again, promising himself to he’d enjoy it later, and stiffened when a little girl’s voice chirped, “Hi, Lorcan!”

“Mistress,” he said and slowly turned in his chair to see Lilith, blond and rosy-cheeked and darling as a china doll, swinging her feet as she perched on his sofa. “I failed today, mistress, but I’ll catch them. I will.”

“Oh, I know you will, but I wanted to tell you I decided to give you some help. I’ve got a lovely pet that’s ever so good at finding things. He found the boys today and he can find them again. Do you want me to send him to you?”

There was a sound through the house like great hoof beats, steady and plodding, and the walls shook. Lorcan swallowed. “I appreciate the help,” he said carefully, “but I’m more familiar with my own methods.”

“Oh well,” Lilith said and waved her hand, and the heavy footsteps faded away. “I’ll send him to keep an eye on them, anyway. It won’t be easy for him, though — they’re ever so tricksy, Lorcan. Tricksy and cunning.”

“Mistress,” Lorcan said, “there’s an angel with them.”

For a moment her eyes blazed with flames and smoke, and Lorcan shrank back. That moment ended quickly and she laughed. “One little angel,” she said. “When I have all of Hell on my side? Do you think that scares me, Lorcan? One little angel, all by himself? I’ll tear off his wings with my bare hands.”

“Then I won’t fear him, mistress,” Lorcan said

“Yay!” she said, clapping her hands. “I knew you were the one to help me. Oh, you’re going to love living forever, Lorcan!”

“Yes, mistress,” he said faintly and suppressed a shiver..

***

Sam wanted to drive straight through back to South Dakota, but Dean insisted they stop once Sam started nodding off. Sam pulled into a rest stop and they both huddled under their jackets, and Dean tried not to make any sounds no matter how much his leg hurt so he wouldn’t keep Sam awake.

They were up and on the road again long before sunrise, and it was afternoon by the time they reached Bobby’s. He came out onto the front porch as Sam was helping Dean out of the Impala, and said, “What happened to you, boy?” as he put an arm around Dean to support him too.

“Stabbed with Ruby’s knife,” Dean said and looked at Sam, who was grim and irritated again. “And it’s been all kinds of awful since we left, Bobby.”

“Come in, come in,” Bobby said. They got Dean up the porch steps and into the living room, which was as cluttered and dusty as ever, and laid him on the couch so he could prop up his leg.

“I’ll get the briefcase,” said Sam and went out again, and Bobby sat on the couch, frowning.

“You’re in crappy shape, Dean.”

“Yes, sir.” Dean put his hand over his eyes, groggy from painkillers and pain the pills didn’t quite kill. “We’re in a mess.”

“What was this job? One cryptic note, no phone calls . . .” His voice trailed off as Sam came back into the house with the briefcase, which was glowing faintly through the seams again. “What the hell?” Bobby breathed.

“Just wait,” Sam said and knelt on the floor so he could put the briefcase down. He popped open the locks and opened the case, letting Bobby get the full effect of the glow; and then took out the cup and gave it to Bobby.

Bobby was silent with awe, his eyes wide, as he turned over the cup in his hands. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dean said softly.

“Yeah. Beautiful. It’s — is this what I think it is?”

Thursday, July 2nd, 2009, 12:37 am   |   fic  |  RSS feed |  Respond  |  Trackback