Ficawesome Gift Exchange- 3some

Title: The Other Side

Written for: Saren Kol

Written By: Silverspoon

Rating: K

Summary/Prompt used: 1) Our pair get lost.

2) Our pair end up in a sticky situation.

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Chapter Eight

Chair legs screeched as two stools flew across the bar floor, slamming into the back of both Sam and Dean's legs, and forcing them into a sitting position. As soon as his backside touched wood, Dean was already bucking and struggling to rise to his feet, only to find that he was held fast to the chair by invisible bonds.

The crossroads demon stared at them, grinning like the Chesire cat on acid as he continued to finger his braces and puff out his chest in pleasure.

"I knew you'd figure it out sooner or later," Randy stated, his teeth glinting in the overhead light, "truth be told, I'm not altogether surprised that it was 'later'."

"Sorry to disappoint," Sam deadpanned, struggling uselessly against the magical bindings that held him to the spot. After several seconds he relaxed, deciding not to waste his energy on fruitless pursuits.

"Well, I guess this is the part where you gloat, reveal your master plan to us, and then think about maybe slitting our throats?" Dean speculated, his eyes trained on the crimson-eyed demon as he strutted the expanse of the bar, his head lolling back in an easy fashion. His responding chuckle was hearty and genuinely amused, although he bobbed his head in agreement.

"I guess it is," he replied, although his lips pressed into a firm, silent line almost immediately.

Dean and Sam exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in confusion as they waited for the demon to do what countless others before him had, and savour the moment in which he had finally gotten the better of the infamous Winchesters.

"What's the matter?" Dean pressed, his voice adopting a note of mock sympathy as he queried, "performance anxiety?"

"I hear it can be a bitch," Sam agreed, flexing his fingers experimentally as he tested the extent of his confinement. He found that he was able to wiggle his hands from side to side, but any attempt to raise them was thwarted instantly by the unseen shackles.

"Laugh it up, boys," Randy conceded, nodding his head and continuing to pace the bar. Disappointingly, it seemed unlikely that he would bite, and something about his demeanour appeared almost nervous. The way he walked back and forth in the space in front of the bar was reminiscent of how a zoo animal paced its enclosure, and Dean watched the demon's movements with sudden renewed interest.

"If I had to hazard a guess, Randy," he finally stated, slouching in his seat and cocking his head to one side as he surveyed the demon, "I'd say you're not the big kahuna running this show after all."

"You would, would you?" the demon countered, his smile still in place as he refused to allow the mask to slip. Dean remained impassive, determined to play the demon at it's own underhanded game.

"Yeah, I would," Dean continued, "I mean, would the next big threat to the world really hang out in some backwater Kansas bar, picking off insurance salesmen who don't even have two kidneys?"

"You tell me, Dean," the demon purred, although his jaw tightened around the smile he appeared to be forcing upon his host's lips.

"I think I just did," answered Dean, a responding smirk flashing quickly across his features.

Randy stared back at the hunter, his fury a quiet burning fire within his eyes. After several seconds, however, he seemed to literally shake off his anger, his whole body shuddering as he finally turned away from his captive.

"Maybe you're right," the demon answered, pausing to draw up a stool from the bar and perch himself on the edge of it. He leaned forwards, his elbows resting on his knees, and propped his chin in his hands.

"That it?" Dean demanded, his lips curling in disgust, "that's all you're giving me to work with here? I mean, c'mon man, have some demonic self-respect. At least brag a little."

"I can brag if you'd like," Randy replied, predatory grin back in place, "I could boast about how I've been cutting deals and yanking folks through a giant portal for weeks before you two dunderheads even caught a whiff of my cologne. I could laugh about how I managed to lure the high and mighty Winchesters into an alternate reality without so much as breaking a sweat."

Suddenly, Randy grew sombre again, and he straightened up in his seat, "But what would be the point in that?"

"For a minion of hell, you're kind of apathetic," Sam accused with a frown. Usually, the latest demon to ensnare them in a trap wastoo reluctant to shut up about their masterful execution of their plans, and the latest horrible manner in which they planned to mutilate, butcher or murder the Winchesters. Therefore, it was a rather novel yet surreal turn of events for the brothers to find themselves faced with a captor who appeared unwilling to say much of anything on the subject.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb, Sammy, and guess Randy here is somewhat of a rookie," Dean teased, crossing his legs as he watched the demon carefully for even the slightest move. He was surprised to see Randy's eyes slip casually and quickly to the wristwatch he wore, before darting back to Dean's face, almost as though he was waiting for a specific moment.

"Promotion just come in?" Sam inquired, joining in the taunts. He continued to subtly test out his bonds, finding that they appeared to be loosening somewhat the more he and Dean rallied at the demon. He wondered in faint amusement if a demon had ever lost control of it's powers before because it's feelings had been hurt.

"You might say that," Randy replied, rolling his shoulders and grimacing as there was an audible crack from his joints. He examined his watch again, although this time with a little less subtlety.

"Are we keeping you from something?" Dean demanded, beginning to grow irritated by the demon's apparent refusal to adhere to the usual bad-guy clichés. Dean had become comfortable over the years with the same old pattern of hunting the monster, trading sarcastic insults with the monster, and then finally slaying the monster. However, their latest foe's company was beginning to make him tetchy, and Dean found himself wishing that the demon would either play along with the unwritten rules, or simply attempt to kill them. Certainly Dean was sure they would find their way out of the current tight spot still with pulses; they had faced far worse odds before and Dean was hardly afraid.

"It's more… what I'm keeping you from, really," said Randy finally, his red eyed gaze befalling Dean and lingering there just a little longer than the hunter was truly comfortable with.

"Care to enlighten me?" growled Dean, leaning forwards to deliberately test his bonds. He found himself held fast against the chair, and he relaxed back in a pantomime of obedience.

"All in good time, all in good time, my man," Randy answered, pausing in order to pour himself a shot from the bottle of rum that rested on the counter by his elbow. He tossed back the glass, which seemed pathetic in his immense hand, and then smacked his lips together in satisfaction.

"Now, where shall we start?" Randy inquired, his grin broad as he glanced from Sam to Dean and back again.

"How about with who you're working for?" Sam suggested. He still twisted against the invisible powers that held him, working his hand into his jacket just far enough so that his fingers could close around the hilt of Ruby's knife. Randy did not notice or if he did, he said nothing.

"Next question," Randy beamed, pouring another shot, which he tossed back as quickly as he had done the first.

"What do you want with us?" Dean demanded, adding with a smirk, "you can assume I'm using 'you' as a euphemism for 'your dick-faced boss'."

"So hostile, Dean," the demon scolded, pursing his plump lips as he poured himself yet another drink. A couple more and Dean was certain that his host would be on the floor, yet the crossroads demon seemed undeterred.

"It's a flaw," said Dean, his gaze sliding across to Sam, who bobbed his head once. "But seriously… why go to all this trouble? Dimension hopping to cut deals for souls that Lucifer probably wouldn't even want cleaning his toilet?"

"You have to look at the bigger picture, Dean," Randy stated, raising his hands in front of his face and forming a rectangle with his fingers, which he then held up in front of Dean with a flourish.

"And that is?" barked Dean, finally beginning to grow somewhat uncertain in the situation. There was something about the demon's behaviour that was starting to unnerve Dean, and the nagging voice present in the back of his own mind was becoming more relentless as the seconds mounted.

"I thought that was obvious," Randy scoffed, shaking his head as though Dean had just failed to answer the most simple of questions, "you."

"Me? How is it me?" Dean demanded, not missing a beat.

"Well, you and your knucklehead brother there," said Randy with a grin that Dean would dearly have liked to have wiped off his face. "This here is all for you. An epic waste of time and resources if you ask me, but what the boss wants, the boss gets."

"And who would 'the boss' be?" interjected Sam, sighing as Randy shook his head in his general direction, a further indication that this was information he did not yet intend to reveal.

"You know, an interesting fact… this reality was created," Randy said, pausing in order to point one finger towards the ceiling before he added, "by them."

"Wait, the angels created a reality? Is that even possible?" Dean's tone was becoming more and more irate as the demon began to open up, much to the creature's delight.

"We're here, aren't we?" Randy countered, rolling his eyes at the hunter's perceived stupidity. "And all thanks to your little feathered friends. See, just before you and your brother shoved Lucifer back into his box, the God squad decided to try somethin'… a little assurance, just in case you boys failed like they thought you would. They created a new reality, where a few things were a smidge different. I guess they wanted to see how it would play out in the grand scheme of things if they tweaked the script. No prizes for guessing how that worked out for them."

"Can't go against God's will," Sam murmured, momentarily distracted by the demon from his task of working the knife free from the holster. He shot a glance at Dean, who was hanging off the demon's every word.

"But the problem with creating a new reality is, in order to fill it with souls, you have to divide the ones you already got," the demon explained, his eyes shining in the dim light as he continued his tale to his enthralled captives.

"Wait, so that's why you've been ganking the dudes you've been pulling through into this reality?" Dean interrupted; his eyes narrowing as understanding dawned fully upon him.

"We can't claim the full soul until both halves have been re-joined," Randy replied with a nod. "It was disappointingly simple, really. Make a deal with the poor schmoes back home, offer them a better life, then once they sign away the soul of their counterpart self, pull a little Freaky Friday switcheroo on them. They think they're cutting the deal of a lifetime. Then, I let them live out a few days of unparalleled bliss before an unfortunate incident befalls them and bam! One full soul in Hell's back pocket."

"Those people had no idea, did they?" Dean demanded, feeling his anger intensify as he realised just how the victims had been duped into believing they were signing themselves up for a better existence.

"Sportsmanship isn't my strong point," Randy conceded, shrugging as he took a few steps closer to Dean and Sam. "I needed your attention. I think we can safely say I have it."

Dean's jaw clenched and he narrowed his eyes as he continued to glare at the demon, who was becoming far too jovial for the older Winchester's liking. He knew that Randy had more up his proverbial sleeve, and Dean found a cold sense of dread beginning to fasten around his heart.

"So, here's where I tell you the master plan in full," Randy stated, starting to bounce on the balls of his feet as he grinned widely at Dean, "whilst we're sitting here, chewing the cud, the boss is back at your place… well, should I say, your place in this reality… cosying up to that hot little blonde piece of ass who died bloody in the real world."

"You son of bitch…" Dean snarled, straining against the chair, which bounced several inches off the floor as Dean bucked and struggled.

"Jo can handle herself," Sam retorted, remaining calm and poised in a direct contrast to Dean, whose eyes had grown wild at the very prospect of the threat against Jo.

"Against the King of Hell?" Randy queried, his lips quirking into a disbelieving smirk as Dean gulped and Sam blanched. "Didn't think so."

"What does Crowley want with Jo?" Dean demanded, sitting back, defeated, and instead affixing Randy with a stare of murderous intent.

"Revenge, mostly," Randy replied, "Crowley wants to see you suffer, Dean, right before he rips out your still beating heart. He already managed to snuff you two morons in this reality, and now all he has to do is…"

"Kill us again?" Dean growled, his disgust evident with the curl of his lip and the snort that escaped him.

"Exactly, now you're getting it," said Randy, his tone almost congratulatory. "See, it's not my job to kill you, Dean. Never was. Just to lure you here and distract you."

"So Crowley could close in on Jo," Sam finished, shaking his head and groaning inwardly as he realised their mistake by ever leaving Jo and Bobby alone.

"Really, I feel sorry for the kid," Randy stated, examining his almost perfectly manicured nails, "she's so broken and depressed and sleep deprived, she's beginning to make Miley look poised and elegant."

He affixed a grin upon Dean as he added, "But I bet she was a sight for sore eyes, huh, Dean?"

"You shut your fu…" Dean began, falling silent as Sam cleared his throat.

"Now what?" barked Sam, twisting in his chair to regard Randy, who had not moved from the spot immediately before them in the last few minutes. The demon smiled, wincing slightly, and then Sam felt the invisible hands that gripped him beginning to relax.

"Now you're free to go," he replied, "by my careful calculations, you got about two and a half hours to make it back to Nebraska. Should arrive just in time to see the boss gut Dean's little whore."

Sam nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground, before he suddenly flew from his chair with the demon killing knife in his hand. Randy's eyes widened as he took in the blade as it flashed through the air in front of his torso, but he had no time to react before Sam buried it up to the hilt in his chest. The demon's body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes, but Sam had yanked the blade free before Randy had even finished convulsing.

"Let's go," Sam panted, breathless, as he watched Dean leap from his seat, his face ashen and his hands shaking. Taking a moment to evaluate Dean's sudden lack of composure, Sam queried, "Want me to drive?"

"No," Dean replied hurriedly, already half way out of the door and heading back towards the abandoned Gemini, "we got two and half hours, Sammy… we'll be there in two."

Understanding the desperation that riddled his brother, Sam merely nodded and slid Ruby's bloodied blade back into its holster. For Dean's sake, he hoped the old car would not fail them.