CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Two Days Later ...

-

Ellen hung up the phone and stared at the faded wallpaper before she looked to Sam. He was at the kitchen table, only one leather-bound text open in front of him, but he was thoroughly engrossed in it. After a moment, she sat down at the table, directly across from him.

“That was Bobby.”

“What'd he want?”

She let out a breath then leaned back in her chair. “Oh, he has a new job up in Illinois he could use your help with. Wanted to know how things turned out with Shanti, too. Said I'd leave the story up to you.” She nodded to the book in front of him. “You've been totin' that around for the past two days. What is it?”

Using a finger as a bookmark, he closed the text so she could see the front. “English translation of some of the Vedas. Dr. Patil loaned it to me.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I asked her for it.” He opened it again.

“What do you think you'll find?”

“Something to help us? I don't know.”

“Thought John decided nothin' about it was useful?”

“I thought I believed in something - maybe it's God, maybe it's not.” He looked to her. “But I saw demons repelled by a simple line in the mud. What kind of power can do that? And maybe it can do the same for us.” He thumbed through the pages he'd yet to read. “Maybe Dad just didn't look at this close enough.”

Ellen nodded. “Where is Shanti, anyway?” she asked after a few moments.

“Outside.” He turned the page then glanced at her. “She's been meditating a lot since we came back from Peculiar.”

“We all look for answers in our own ways. She meditates.” She gestured to the book. “You research. Dean -”

“Just doesn't care,” Sam muttered as he frowned.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, I was going to say 'he tinkers around with old cars', but you know him better than I do.” She raised an eyebrow when he looked at her. When he went back to the book, she continued. “What're you gonna do next?”

He shrugged. “Guess we'll go to Illinois and find out what Bobby needs.”

“I meant in a grander scheme of things.”

Another shrug. “Keep looking for an answer, do whatever we can to help other people in-between. Ten months and three weeks isn't a lot of time, though.” He paused before he met her gaze. “Do you think everything happens for a specific reason?”

Ellen sat forward. “What brought that on?”

He thought back to the crossroads, the discussion he'd had with Dean about the 'coincidences' they'd experienced prior to the yellow-eyed demon kidnapping him. Was there a reason they'd met the crossroads demon at that point? They'd not dealt with one ever before but then one's suddenly part of a job.

'What if you were meant to come back?'

'If that's true ... ' he heard his own voice reply. 'Then for what purpose?'

Ellen could tell something bothered him about the question. He couldn't hide it as well as Dean. “I think things just happen, Sam,” she finally said, gaining his attention. “Then we find the reasons for'em.” Sam's gaze fell on the text, an indecipherable expression on his face. “What's wrong?”

He saw the concern she wore on her own. “It's nothing. Really,” he assured her.

She eyed him before she decided to leave it alone, then stood up.

Once she was gone, his gaze wandered away from the book to the open window near the back of the kitchen. From there, he could see the old pick-up Ellen had given to Shanti. The hood was propped up and Dean, his back to the house, was leaned over the engine.

-

As Shanti rounded the back corner of the old farmhouse, she could hear the sounds of tools against metal before she even saw Dean himself. He was leaned over the truck's engine, one arm lost somewhere within it, as he muttered a curse under his breath. Once he'd finished what he was doing, he stood straight and withdrew his arm at the same time. It was then he noticed her.

He didn't say a word, only went to the open driver's side door, reached inside and turned the key. Without any trouble, the engine turned over and ran even smoother than it previously had. Slight smug smile on his face, he turned it off.

“It sounds much better than before,” Shanti commented as she came to a stop on the other side of the door.

Dean only glanced at her as he used a rag wipe away the muck from his hands.

She bowed her head as he slammed the door and went around her to the front end of the vehicle. “Your brother said your father did this. Worked in a garage.” She watched him let the hood fall shut with a thump. “Would you've done the same sort of work, if things had gone differently in your lives?”

He shrugged. “They didn't,” he shortly replied. “Why do you care, anyway?” He continued to clean away the grease as he walked to where the tools he'd used lay on the ground.

Locking her hands together behind her back, she followed. “This isn't particularly easy for me to say -”

Dean stood straight and looked back to her, almost amused. “Whoa! Something's not easy for you to say? I'd better prepare myself then. What could be worse than the other shit you've already said? Unless it's to tell me one of the tortures waiting in Hell is Electric Light Orchestra on endless repeat.”

“No. But you are close to what it is about.”

He fully turned, a guarded curiosity about him. “How's that?”

“I asked you before – if you had a way out of your deal, would you take it?”

He nodded. “And I told you there was no way out, so why wonder?” Before she could respond, he quickly added, “I am not giving Sam back. You can forget it, if that's what you've got in mind.”

She shook her head. “There's another way.”

He turned around again, very slowly. “What d'you mean?”

She motioned to herself. “If I willingly take on your contract, you'll be free.”

He stared at her, like she'd spoken to him in a foreign language. “Take on my contract?” he said, his brow furrowed. “How can you do that?”

“We go to the nearest crossroads, I summon the demon and offer my soul in trade for yours. Quite simple, really.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what happens to Sam?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she assured him. “The both of you live for as long as you're allowed. She has no hold over either of you.”

Cautiously, he approached her. “You're tellin' me you'd do that? After all of the shit you put me through for makin' the deal in the first place?” After she nodded, he raised an eyebrow. “This is some kind of test, isn't it?” He smiled a little. “Yeah, that's it! If I say 'yes', you'll give me another of those 'you're so selfish' speeches.” He chuckled as he wagged a finger at her. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“It's no test,” she insisted. She grabbed his arm before he could walk away. “I am ready to do this for you.”

He looked from her hand on his arm to her. “Oh, yeah? If you're so ready, why don't you just do it? Why even ask me?”

“I need your ... permission to do so. Just as I willingly accept the contract, you must willingly give it over,” she explained. She saw the suspicion still in his eyes. “This is one of the few resolutions, that I'm aware of, which will save you.”

Dean studied her. She seemed serious, but why would she? She hardly even knew him. He was pretty damn sure she didn't even like him. There had to be some other reason. Something in it for her. “Sam told me about your sister. If you do this, that means you're done trying to help her. Right?” She nodded. “Why?”

“This way, at the very least, she won't be alone there,” she quietly answered as she looked away. “I ... I haven't been terribly kind to you -”

He snorted. “That's an understatement.”

She raised her head and looked him in the eye. “Over the past two days, I've come to realize it wasn't you I was angry with.” She sadly sighed. “You are a lot like her. I'd displaced my aggravation with her onto you, since she isn't here for me to ... “

“Bitch at?” he suggested.

Her mouth quirked. “Not the words I'd have chosen, but, yes.”

“And now you want to go to Hell for me?”

“Perhaps, if I do this, you'll reflect on your second chance. Or your fourth, if we're going to keep a correct count.”

“Reflect? On what?”

“A different path, maybe. I can't imagine how awful it must be to live day-to-day without any sort of faith.”

He rolled his eyes as he walked to the other side of the truck. “Oh, great. Here we go again - the 'God Talk'.” He picked up the tools and tossed them into the metal toolbox. “Sam and I have had this chat more than once in past few months. It goes nowhere, fast. I sure as hell ain't havin' it with you.”

“I don't necessarily mean faith in God,” she said as she stopped beside him. “Do you believe in any other person, besides your brother?” He only ignored her and continued to put away the tools. “Do you even believe in yourself?”

He muttered something as he forced a laugh.

“In the short time I've known you, it's obvious you've no sense of self-worth. Oddly, however, you think you're the only one who can sort things out. If it's not your solution, it can't be trusted.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “You bugger everything around you because of it as well.”

“Really?” Dean threw the last wrench into the box then rose to his feet so fast, Shanti took a step back. “How about I lay some psychoanalysis on you, Doc? For the past week, you've been goin' on and on about how selfishness is the 'true evil'. You're pissed off at your sister, so you take it out on me. You tell us about how we're so afraid, self-centered and covered in bad karma -”

“You haven't any -”

He pointed a finger in her face, cutting her off. “I have the floor,” he growled. “You give us all of this crap but look at you. Didn't find a way to help your sister, yet you discovered ways to help other people. Did you put it to use? No. You don't like the way Sam and I do our job, so you refuse to help us in any way. Fine. I get that. But what the hell did Felton Howard, or anyone else like him, ever do except make a mistake?”

She averted her gaze from him.

“If it'd been your sister knockin' on the door instead of me, would you've helped her? She made the same choice. You never would've slammed the door in her face, though. Why? You're just like the rest of us – out for yourself. Doin' what's good for you and yours. To hell with everyone else. Literally.”

“Leila is not the issue here -”

“Yes, she is,” he snapped. “Everything you've done up till now has been because of her. We're alike in that way.” He paused. “If this had ended that night in the cemetery? I'd have given this shit up. You think I enjoy meeting people who've recently lost someone? It's a ton of fun to watch innocent ones die, knowin' there was nothin' I could do? I don't want what resembles normal for one day? This job sucks, every hunter'll tell you the same. We all can't go hide in the woods, though. Somebody has to man up. And since you're quiet for once, lemme answer your question – no. I don't want you to take on my contract.”

She tried to hide her surprise at his reply but failed. “This could be your only way out.”

“Could be, couldn't be.” He shrugged. “I don't friggin' know. What I do know is I'm not draggin' anyone else into this.” His features relaxed and softened just a bit. “Besides,” he continued, more quietly. “If Sam found out, he'd go through the goddamn roof. I'd never hear the end of it. Between his lectures and fire and brimstone? I'll take the fire and brimstone. Less of a pain in my ass.”

“It would seem I've misjudged you,” Shanti finally replied after several moments of silence. “You're not quite as ignorant as I previously thought.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “I'll assume that's a sideways compliment and leave it at that.”

A very faint smile appeared on her face then she turned to leave.

“Hey, Doc?”

She looked over her shoulder. “Yes?”

He toyed with the oil-covered rag. “You find a way to spring your sister, you'll let Sam know?” He waited then looked to her. “It's not bein' alive, but I'd rather not spend eternity in Hell with that bitch, if it can be avoided.”

“I will.”

“Thanks.”

“Dean?”

He flicked his gaze back to her. “Yeah?”

“It's actually Yoko Ono, not Electric Light Orchestra.” She smiled then walked away.

“I didn't know you had a sense of humor!” he called out. When she didn't respond, he added, a bit concerned, “You are kidding ... right?”

-

Shanti closed the door to Jo's bedroom and placed her duffel bag on the floor. She smiled at Ellen who stood in the hallway, just in front of her.

“You sure you want to leave?” Ellen asked. She gestured to the house. “Big place. Hardly have any visitors. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. Be nice to have the company.”

“As lovely as the offer is, Ellen, I'll have to pass,” she replied. “However, I won't rule out an eventual return. If you haven't a problem with it?”

She shook her head. “Oh, no. Maybe I'll be able to introduce you to Jo next time.”

“I'd like to meet her. She must be an impressive young woman.”

“I did the best I could.”

The doctor smiled a little more. “Well,” she sighed as she held out a hand. “This is goodbye, then.”

Instead of taking her hand, Ellen put her arms around the other woman and gave her a hug. After an uneasy moment, Shanti returned it. “You take care of yourself.” As she let go, Ellen stepped back. “Remember, you always have a friend here, if you need anything.”

She nodded. “Had this not happened, I would've never met you. I'm rather glad I did.”

Ellen patted her shoulder then smiled. She glanced down the hall at the open front door. “Boys are out front, if you wanna say anything to them before you go.”

Her gaze lowered and settled on the two brightly-colored bracelets she wore. She looked back to Ellen. “Yes, actually, I would.”

-

“ ... well, I don't know, Sam. We'll find out when we get there,” Dean was saying as the screen door creaked open and Shanti, duffel bag in tow, appeared on the porch.

Both of them turned. Sam rose to his feet and Dean pushed himself away from the post he'd leaned against.

“You're leaving?” Sam asked as he glanced from the bag to her.

“I probably should've left earlier in the day ...” Her gaze shifted to Dean. “But I had something which needed sorted.” She focused on Sam again. “At any rate, I thought I'd say farewell.”

“You don't have to go.” Sam motioned to the house. “I'm sure Ellen'd let you stay here until you're back on your feet -”

“No,” she cut in. “I've overstayed my welcome. And I shouldn't come across any trouble I won't be able to handle.”

“Where you goin' to, exactly?” Dean inquired.

“Oh ...” She gazed out at the horizon a moment before she looked to them again. “A professor at a university in Colorado asked me for my help not long after I first arrived here,” she replied. “Thought I might extend my expertise to him and his cause. Faustian scholar, he is, you know.”

Sam glanced at Dean. “You're going to try to help other people?”

“Those who are willing to do what is necessary, yes.”

“If you don't mind me asking, what changed your mind?”

She shifted her gaze to Dean. “'Be the change you want to see in the world',” she answered.

Dean looked to Sam. Apparently, the fortune cookie response made some kind of sense to him. He leaned closer to his brother and murmured, “What the hell's that mean?”

“It's Gandhi,” Sam replied. “It means to affect change by example. Hope others follow in your footsteps.” Suddenly, he remembered something. “Since you're leaving, I should return your book to you.” He made it to where she stood when she stopped him.

“I'd like you to keep it, Sam,” she said when he looked down at her, puzzled. “You may find something within it which might help you.” She glanced down at her bracelets. “Also, I have something else I would like to give to you.”

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned his back on them. “I should've seen this comin',” he grumbled. “God, just let it be quick.”

“Dean?”

He hesitated before he cautiously looked over his shoulder. The doctor beckoned him forward with a finger. Confused, he joined her and Sam on the porch. He watched as she finished trying one of the bracelets around Sam's wrist. When she motioned for him to extend his arm, he looked to her. “What's this?” he asked as she placed it around his wrist. “Some of your Hindu voodoo?”

She gave him a unamused look. “No, it's a rakhi bracelet,” she explained. She finished the knot then focused on Dean. “It's not related to the otherworld. It's common practice for girls and women to give them to their brothers, or those whom they consider as such.”

Sam looked at the one around his wrist then to Dean, who seemed more surprised than anything.

“By accepting them, you've pledged yourselves to help me should I ever need it.” She noticed the expression on Dean's face. “Don't worry, I won't hold you to that end.” She paused as her own expression turned more somber. “These are the ones Leila and I gave to Anil.”

“We couldn't take these -” Sam started as he moved to return it to her. He stopped when she placed a hand on his arm.

“Please. He wouldn't mind.” Her hand slipped away. “It's ... the only way I'm able express my gratitude. To you both. No matter what that asura may believe, there is a purpose behind what happened. I've realized it's selfish to focus only on Leila when others could use my help. Until the events of the past week, I'd never considered it in such a manner.”

“Maybe you're on the right path,” Sam suggested. “Maybe you'll find a way to save Leila's soul.”

“Perhaps.” She moved to grab her duffel but looked back to them. “I'm certain you won't pay any mind to it, but could I ask something of you?”

“Already?” Dean raised his wrist with the bracelet. “We haven't even had these five minutes.”

“It isn't for me, it's for you. And those like you,” she replied. “If you'd consider the beings you ... hunt a bit more, you may discover things you never thought possible.”

“We'll keep it in mind,” Sam assured her when he saw the blank look on Dean's face.

She nodded, satisfied with the response. It was something, anyway. She picked up her duffel then used both hands to swing it over a shoulder. “May God guide you both.” With that, she headed for the pick-up, which was parked not far from the Impala.

“We're still right where we were a week ago,” Dean commented as the truck pulled away. He looked to Sam. “Maybe you'll realize how pointless this is. Not even the expert could save me.” He turned to go back into the house.

“Couldn't she?”

He stopped and pivoted on a heel to face Sam. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“She offered to take on your contract.” He watched Dean feign confusion very well in response. “Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about. I know she told you.”

“And how would you know?”

“The kitchen window was wide open. I heard everything.”

Dean eyed him. “You knew before then, didn't you.” It was a statement, not a question.

He nodded. “She'd mentioned it at the crossroads. She offered to do it that day.”

He came closer. “You never said a word to me. Why was that?”

Sam shrugged as he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets then looked away from Dean. “I don't know,” he muttered.

“You thought I'd actually do that?” he incredulously asked. His eyes widened when Sam didn't deny it. “Did you?”

“You're desperate,” he finally replied with a sigh. He dared to look him in the eye. “I didn't want you to make another stupid mistake because of it.”

“I can't believe my own brother thinks that goddamn low of me,” he said, shaking his head in utter wonder. “I'd put someone else in Hell, just to save my own ass.” He scoffed then started for the front door.

“I'm sorry!” he called out as Dean put a hand on the screen door. “All right? I'm sorry.”

His hand tightly gripped the handle before he finally flicked his gaze to Sam. “Get your stuff together,” he quietly said. “It's a long drive to Chicago.” He threw open the door and entered the house.

Sam flinched as the screen clanked shut behind him.

-

The car's radio softly played as the Impala headed down the darkening two lane highway. They'd just left Nebraska. In a few hours, they'd meet with Bobby in Chicago, for whatever job had him so hard up for help, he'd called on them.

Dean glanced away from the road over to Sam. They hadn't said much to each other since Ellen's. Partly because Sam was tied up in a book the doctor had given him. Sooner or later, he'd get over Sam keeping the one way out of his contract a secret from him. He couldn't totally fault Sam for his assumption. For a second there, he'd considered saying 'yes'.

After he turned up the volume on the radio, he concentrated on the road ahead of him.

“Listen, young people, I'm 74
And I plan to live 60 or 70 more
I've been all around, I've done a few things
And I spent a few nights on the floor, oh ...”

Sam rubbed his eyes with his fingers as he lifted his head. He'd almost finished the volume. While most of the stories were interesting in several ways, none of them offered any help to him. Or Dean. He wondered what the doctor thought he'd find, and why couldn't she just tell him?

The book slipped forward and nearly fell to the floor. As he caught it, he saw a folded piece of paper slide from the back pages and land between his shoes. Casually, Sam grabbed the paper then held up one side of the book, to hide what he was doing from Dean.

Carefully, he unfolded it and raised an eyebrow. The note was addressed to him. From Shanti. After another quick glance at his brother, he read the words:

As I told you before, many of the solutions I could give you will not help. It is simply too late for your brother. You would not accept my offer, and I do understand why you refused. However, there is one last chance for him to save his soul from an eternity in Hell.

Sam looked to Dean, and Dean noticed him staring.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” he murmured then focused on the note.

Dean looked down at the book. “Dunno what you think you're gonna get out of that,” he said, shaking his head.

“You never know.” When Dean shifted his attention back to the road, Sam continued to read:

The last solution I am able to offer is this: self-sacrifice. As with all contracts, selfishness is the basis. Selflessness is an opportunity for redemption. Should he give his life in the act of saving another, for no selfish reasons, upon his death, the contract is void. Unfortunately, he won't be alive but his soul will move forward.

Sam blinked. Self-sacrifice? He shifted his gaze to Dean again. Before Dean could see him watching him, Sam read the final paragraph:

I wondered if I should even reveal this last bit. If you wish to tell your brother, I'll leave to you. Only one man, supposedly, managed to escape his contract - as well as his death - this way. I won't tell you it's impossible, yet you shouldn't expect it to be his outcome. Do have faith. In the vastness of the Universe, there is always someone with more power than any evil forces.

Sam lifted his head, stunned, as he looked out of the open passenger's side window. A slim chance, but it was a chance. A little hope was better than none. Still, as she'd written, there was no guarantee Dean would be completely freed, like the other man. Dean took enough chances with his life now. For him to have it in the back of his mind that dying to save someone else could not only spare him from Hell, but maybe cancel the contract on the whole?

He stared at the paper for almost a full minute. Then used a hand to crumple it into a ball.

“What's that?”

Dean's voice jerked Sam out of his thoughts. “What's what?”

He gestured to the Sam's hand which held the paper ball. “That. What is it?”

“Learned a few tricks and I'll learn a few more
And I got enough bullets to fight a small war ...”

Quickly, Sam tossed it out of the window. “Just useless junk I found in the back of the book. Notes or something the doctor jotted down, I guess,” he casually replied. “It wasn't important.”

“Nobody asked me so here's my advice
To a young man or woman who's living this life
In a world gone to hell where nobody's safe
Do not go quietly unto your grave ...”

“Better not be any cops around,” Dean said after a lengthy pause. “Last thing we need is to get pulled over for you litterin', then thrown into jail when they figure out who we are.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “No one saw.”

“You hope no one did,” Dean said as he shook his head.

What neither one of them saw was the ball of paper be blown inside the car via the open back window. After which, the heavily moving breeze knocked it off of the backseat, and rolled it on the floor until it finally settled underneath Dean's.

-

The End.

-

Author's Notes: I stupidly forgot to credit the songs/artists I've used in this story. So! Stevie Wonder's “Superstition”, The Rolling Stones' “Sympathy For the Devil”, “I'll Fly Away” (original lyrics by Albert E. Brumley) and Morphine's “Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave” were all used without permission. Don't sue me, kthx?