At The Crossroads

[justasaleswoman]

When two roads diverge, in a yellow wood or else where, you can take the one less traveled by, the high road or the low road, whatever path you choose, and it may make all the difference, and you may get to Scotland first, or wherever it is you're trying to get.

But then, there's a funny thing about roads.

From dirt tracks to interstates, all roads lead one of two places.

Another road . . . or a dead end.

So when that road you took leads you to another road, and those two roads come together at neat right angles, or close enough . . .

Well, then you have another choice to make.

Another road . . . or a dead end?

Then again, maybe you're already at the dead end.

An empty intersection in an empty landscape, just waiting.

This is a crossroads.

Where pacts are made.

Comments

[justasaleswoman]

"But here's the thing," she continues, because he doesn't get hints of relief, not now, not even momentary ones.

"Don't be thinking for a second that this ends any other way. You try to welch, or weasel your way out, try to jump though a loophole or find another way, and the deal is off.

"Sam drops dead, and the only deal you'll get then is whatever discount you can cut on the kerosene you'll need to torch his meat."

[hopeitsworthit]

He pushes away the images that set of words invokes. Sam's not gonna end up like that.

Not --

Not forever.

No.

And maybe he never has to find out.

[justasaleswoman]

"It's a better deal than you deserve. And a hell of a better one than your daddy got.

"So, Dean . . . what do you say?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Better?

This is better?

Bullshit.

But Dean's done talking.

He sets his jaw, swallows back acid, and pulls the demon bitch's face toward his for a kiss.

Sealing the deal.

Bringing Sam back.

Doing his job.

That's what counts. It's the only thing.

Right?

[justasaleswoman]

She brings her hands up to the back of his neck and the side of his face, and there's no way she's rushing this.

She thought the first time she kissed him was sweet.

But this . . . cue the swell of the orchestra and the happy ending.

(Matter of perspective, after all. It's a happy ending for her.)

"You don't do things by halves, do you, darling?"

[hopeitsworthit]

"Ain't much point, is there?"

Already the itch of getting back to Sam -- making sure he's okay -- is burning under Dean's skin.

The demon's proximity may also have something to do with that.

So he takes a step back. Slow.

Casual.

Steady.

Nothing really feels different. Not yet.

(If he says it enough times it'll totally be true.)

[justasaleswoman]

"Leaving so soon?" she asks.

And then laughs. "It's okay, Dean. I never figured you were the type to hang around for a cuddle or a cigarette.

"Hurry on back to Sammy. Tell him I said hello."

[hopeitsworthit]

"In your fucking dreams."

Maybe literally.

He's resolutely not thinking about that, either.

Hell.

The demon's right about one thing, though. It's time to get gone.

Dean's got somewhere more important to be --

For as long as he can.

[justasaleswoman]

She stands at the center of the crossroads and watches him head for his car.

"Have a great summer," she says.

"See you next year."

[hopeitsworthit]

"I'll bring the puppy chow," he bites out, slamming the car door and shooting the Impala into reverse.

Those tracks are gonna be laid in the earth for a long while.

[justasaleswoman]

They might still be there when he gets laid in the earth, even.

Verity stands and watches, red eyes on red lights, until she can't see even the tail lights of the black car speeding into the night toward the dead end he just chose.

And then, once again, the crossroads is silent and empty and waiting.