As It Was - Dean Winchester

Part 22

We jogged up the stairs to Evan Hudson's house. It was already pitch black outside, and I sent out a silent prayer that we weren't too late. Sam knocked on the door, and a man opened the door up wide, looking out at the three of us.

"Yes?"

"Evan Hudson?" Sam asked to make sure. He got a slight nod of confirmation.

"You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago," Dean asked, and Evans's face turned to one of true horror. He slammed the door shut and latched it. "Come on, we're not demons!"

"Smooth, Dean," I breathed out through gritted teeth, feeling the time slipping away.

"Any other bright ideas?" Sam wonderers. The brothers looked at each other before Dean took a step back and kicked the door in.

The door was forced open, and we hurried through the house. We were once again stopped by a closed door, and as Dean set himself to kick it in, I stepped in front of him and caught his leg. I gave him a pointed look, turned around, and felt the door handle. The door opened up effortlessly.

"Evan?" I called into the quiet office room. The man at the door jumped out from behind a bookshelf, holding out his hands.

"Please! Don't hurt me," he begged.

"We're not going to hurt you, all right?" Sam told him, showing his hands pacifying. "We're here to help you."

I straightened my back, clasping my hands behind me.

"We know all about the genius deal you made," Dean told him, and I watched as Evan's eyes grew wide.

"What? How?"

"Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it," Sam stated.

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't," I told him, and Dean finished my sentence.

"But you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy."

Evan swallowed hard and began to pace the room. Pulling a hand over his face. "Can you stop it?"

"Don't know. We'll try," Sam told him honestly.

"The odds aren't great," I explained. "But they're not horrible either. It's been done before."

"I don't want to die."

"Of course you don't, not now," Dean's voice was dripping in sarcasm, in spite.

"Dean. Stop," Sam warned his brother. I turned to him and locked my eyes on him, noting that he avoided my stern gaze on purpose. He had zeroed in on Evan.

"What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?"

"My wife," Evan responded. Dean laughed, a cold, sarcastic sound.

"Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for."

"Stop it, Dean," I commanded in a cold voice, and finally, he looked at me, still refusing to look me in the eye. He licked his bottom lip, smiling coldly. The rage behind his eyes was apparent, and I had a guess at why.

"No. He's right. I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, that... woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but... I don't know how to— I was desperate."

"Desperate?" Sam asked, marking the word use. Evan sighed and turned away from us, leaning on a desk.

"Julie was dying," he explained.