29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: Supernatural belongs to Erik Kripke, Warner Brothers and quite possibly others who are not mentioned here. No money will be made from this fan fiction.

Summary: When Dean goes to sell his soul at the crossroads to bring Sam back, someone else steps in to negotiate the deal. Cas did get a sign and it sent him off into the past to change things. AU from The Man Who Would be King and All Hell Breaks Loose.

It's All in the Details

By Colleen

Chapter 29

It was official. If he looked over one more cold case, filed one more pointless report, he would go stark raving out of his mind.

Henricksen shoved the file folder he was holding into the filing box a little (okay, a lot) harder than necessary. His partner was still laid up and he was still on desk duty. Fact was he got the feeling that if they could manage it, they would leave him on desk duty until he retired, which was a long ways off.

He was inches away from saying screw it and going for a very long lunch break. A few years long. He sighed. It was days like these that he really wished he could be more of a goof off. But he couldn't, so instead he sat back down at his desk and picked up the next file.

Arson… He frowned. Why was this even on his desk? He flipped to the next page of the report. Great, arson that couldn't even be proved to be arson… Again, why was this considered a cold case and why was it on his desk?

He turned the page, and found out.

xxxxxxxx

SSA Taylor almost groaned when he saw Henricksen coming his way. Once a week at least the desk bound agent tried to get himself back on the active roster. God knows, he had tried, if just to stop the weekly arguments he had with the man. However, every recommendation he'd put forward to that end had been quashed.

For today's argument, he decided he'd start on the offensive. "No Victor, you can't do follow up on whatever new lead you think you've found in one of the cold cases. Pass it on to the investigating agents." He looked up at Henricksen and noticed the man was frowning at him.

"What?"

Henricksen handed him a holiday request form. Taylor looked at it, surprised. The last time Victor had taken time off it had been compassionate leave after the police station in Monument had gone up in the gas explosion and they'd pretty much had to force him to take it.

"I'd like three weeks off, starting tomorrow."

The supervisory agent shook his head. "Victor, vacation requests of that length need to be…" His voice tapered off as he realized that Henricksen was poised to do something. Not violence, but something extreme and irrevocable all the same. "But since you're on desk duty anyway, I guess it isn't important this time. Enjoy your time off."

"Thank you sir."

xxxxxxxx

As Victor walked away, he stopped long enough to shove the resignation form, the one that he would have handed his supervisor if he hadn't gotten the holiday time, into a shredder. For a moment, he watched the paper as it was reduced to confetti, recognizing that one of these days he would close the door on this part of his life with nothing more than paper and ink.

He snorted at himself for the poetically depressed nonsense he'd just came up with and then headed back to his desk. The file about the suspected arson fire at a roadhouse frequented by known felons, such as the now 'dead' Winchester brothers sat there. He dropped it into the middle of a pile of other cold case files and locked them into the bottom drawer of his desk. He'd spent enough time studying. It was time to remind himself of what was really out there in the dark. It was also time to follow up on some of the contacts Bobby had sent him, and after what he'd read, Ellen Harvelle seemed like a good one to start with.

And if he couldn't track her down, then maybe he'd see about checking in with the first name on his list, even if Bobby had put 'grumpy bastard' and 'bring scotch' down beside the name Rufus Turner.

xxxxxxxx

Boris looked up to see what he could only describe as a dapper gentleman, standing in the middle of the old warehouse that he and the rest of his nest were using as living space and food storage. The guy, whose blood smelled almost as dangerous as a dead man's, smirked at said food. Their chains rattled when they flinched away from him. He smiled even wider at the reaction before bringing his full attention back to Boris.

"Nice setup. You might want to consider expanding your membership though." He glanced at a couple of the older members of the nest that bore more of a resemblance to nosferatu than the current romantic idea of a vampire. "You'll get more tasty treats with eye candy than you would with the silent film crowd here."

The man rolled his eyes when one of the vampires hissed at the insult and while Boris agreed that it was a stereotypical thing for a vampire to do, he'd already had enough of this ass.

"Who the hell are you?"

The guy smiled. "Name's Crowley and I am…strangely enough… looking to hire you." He looked around. "Or one of your people."

Boris crossed his arms over his motorcycle jacket covered chest. "And why would we do that. In fact, why would we do anything other than kill you?"

The same hissing idiot from before decided that was his cue and leapt at the man. Crowley sidestepped the attack, waving his hand at the creature as it passed him.

The vampire promptly burst into flames.

Crowley stepped away from the thrashing bloodsucker on the floor and the vampires that were trying to put him out. He watched for a moment, amused and then turned back to Boris. "I believe that answers your question."

Boris briefly calculated his odds of survival if he jumped the guy and attempted to rip out his heart.

"The odds are crap luv, believe me." Crowley said with a smirk. He didn't have to read the vampire's mind to know what was going through it.

Boris' face screwed up in a grimace. "What's the job… and what's the pay?"

"The job is simple. I need someone turned." The demon handed the vampire a mug shot photo of Dean Winchester.

"Hmm." Boris nodded. "He's pretty."

Crowley smirked. "As for the pay…" He named a sum of money that the vampire appeared to appreciate. "Of course, if you'd like something else, something more intangible, I may be able to arrange that instead."

"Why come to me for this?"

Crowley gave him a half shrug. "You're one of the oldest vampires in North America. Figured if anyone had a chance at doing this job right, it would be you."

The vampire had to wonder if that was flattery or honest truth. The guy seemed like he would be good at the first and crap at the second. Boris looked at the photo again. He didn't trust the 'man' in front of him, but that didn't mean they couldn't come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Besides, even without payment, the job did appear to have its own built in perks.

Boris nodded and met Crowley's eyes with his own. "Deal."

He was a little startled when the guy kissed him, but all in all, he didn't mind.

xxxxxxxx

Since they were already in Wisconsin, Dean managed to talk Sam into heading over to Green Bay, to take in a Packer's game. Not that either of them were extreme football fans, except maybe when it came to the Jayhawks, but they were close by, the season was just starting and there was a lull in supernatural activity going on. Might as well get in a little R and R while they could.

Dean was off at the souvenir stand, buying a giant foam hand while Sam stood in another line, waiting to buy some overpriced hamburgers and fries. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone walking by who suddenly screeched to a halt. For a brief moment, Sam held out hope that the guy had stopped because he really wanted a hamburger.

"Sam?"

No such luck.

Sam looked up and blinked at who he saw in front of him.

"Brady?"

xxxxxxxx

Giant foam hand purchased, Dean started to make his way back to his brother. One thing about someone being as tall as Sam is, it was hard to lose him in a crowd.

He wasn't surprised to find him still in line for the food. He was surprised to find him passing the time talking with someone.

"Hey."

"Hey Dean, meet Brady. We were at Stanford together."

The guy stuck out his hand. "It's nice to finally meet Sam's brother."

Dean juggled the foam hand into his left arm and shook the guy's real hand.

"Brady was just telling me that his company is renting a viewing suite for the game and they have a couple of empty seats if we want them."

"It's got an incredible view of the field and the company is paying for the food and drinks."

"Well, I'm not one to say no to free food, or an open bar."

As Brady led the way, Dean and Sam looked at each other. They said a lot in that short time, none of it vocal, but they each knew what was said. Sam managed to wipe the sour look off his face before they arrived at the suite.

It was one of the larger rooms and had about twenty people in it. Clothing style was mostly dressy casual, with a few suits mixed in like a handful of raisins in cookie dough.

"Oh, grub." Dean moved to the buffet, his whole attention apparently taken up with the food. Sam threw a slightly annoyed look his way and allowed Brady to show him to one of the viewing seats. "So," Sam asked, once they were both seated. "You said your company is paying for this?"

Brandy nodded. "Yeah, Niveus Pharmaceuticals. The headquarters are actually in California, but one of the owners is a huge Packers' fan. He writes a few of these trips off a year as team building exercises."

Sam laughed, since is seemed required of him at that point. "So, what do you do for them?"

"I'm in distribution. Got a very good chance of making the VP position in the next year or so."

"Wow, I'm impressed." Sam told him, meaning it.

"You know," Brady said, smiling at him. "I owe it all to you. If you hadn't been there to pull me out of my own crap back when I attempted to self destruct, then I'd probably be lucky to be alive, much less working at a place like Niveus."

Sam briefly clasped him on the shoulder. "Hey, that's what friends are for."

"So, what have you been up to? I know you never came back to Stanford, but did you finish up your schooling somewhere else?"

Dean chose that moment to sit down beside them and pass Sam a plate filled with everything healthy he could find on the buffet table, along with a couple things he thought his brother should try.

"The samosas are incredible."

And deep fried and about two and a half sizes larger than the ones for sale in most grocery stores.

A brief look of annoyance moved fleetingly across Brady's face at the interruption, before he smiled and went to get his own food.

"Soooo." Dean asked quietly, drawing the word out. "Demon, creature or law enforcement?"

Sam gnawed on a carrot stick and shook his head. "Not sure." He looked over at his old friend. "You wouldn't consider coincidence, would you?"

Dean gave his brother a look. Sam sighed, but nodded. He didn't believe it either. They watched Brady schmooze with a couple of people at the buffet.

Dean stuffed a mini pizza into his mouth, chewing widely. "Want to run a test?"

Sam looked at him disgustedly. "Want to not speak with your mouth full?"

Dean swallowed. "You can keep hoping. So, test?"

Sam shook his head. "Too many people. Don't want anyone to get hurt if he reacts to silver, or Holy water or us saying Christo."

The three closest football fans, which both brothers had thought were out of earshot, flinched.

In sync, Sam and Dean mouthed a very bad word.

They turned to look at Brady as he sat down beside them with a sigh. He returned their scrutiny and chuckled lightly.

"Yep, it's as bad as you think it is."

Dean put his now almost empty plate of food to the side with a vaguely nauseous expression on his face.

"Everyone here is a demon." He said.

"Mmm."

"And the food?"

Brady looked a little surprised. "Oh, no. The food's fine. We weren't really intending for you to go and blow our covers."

"How long?" Sam asked, his gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

"How… Oh, how long have I been a demon?" Brady smirked. "Come on Sam, it can't be that hard to figure out. We were just talking about it."

"Thanksgiving. You came back from break screwed up."

"Yeah. Dropped out of Pre-Med. Drugs, parties, bitches." He sighed again. "College really was a lot of fun."

"So," Dean asked. "What was with this little get together? Were you planning on taking us out by feeding and entertaining us until we couldn't stand it anymore?"

Brady laughed and the football fans fixed their attention on the three of them. A quick look proved that every eye in the place had turned black.

"No. I was just supposed to connect with Sam here. Try and work my way back into your lives enough that maybe I could push him in the right direction."

Sam glared at him. "What direction was that?"

"Ah, doesn't matter. We'll take the second prize. Keep you and kill your brother here."

The brothers tried to stand, but they were forced back into their seats and each of them was held down by a couple of the demons that were wearing suits.

"Yeah see, with any luck old Dean here will end up right back in Hell and you Sam… well, we've got other plans for you."

One of the casually dressed demons walked over and handed Brady the carving knife, which had been on the buffet table for the roast. Dean struggled briefly and then slumped.

"Don't suppose you'd give me a moment to pray?"

Several of the demons snorted with laughter, Brady included. "You think God is listening?"

"Actually, I'm a pagan."

Brady looked surprised. "Really?" His face twisted up into a smirk. "What the hell. Should be good for a laugh."

Dean shrugged out of the grip the demons had on him, glanced at his brother who looked confused, and then put his hands together.

"Dear Kaseva… Who's probably going to be somewhat annoyed with me. Sam and I are surrounded by twenty demons and I'm about to be carved up for sandwiches. So, if you're listening, we could really use a little divine intervention. Ah…Roger and out."

When Dean looked up, he realized that every demon in the place was staring at him, stunned.

Brady shook his head, as if to clear it. "That has got to be the worst excuse for a prayer I've ever heard."

Dean looked mildly affronted.

A huff of laughter came from the direction of the room's door. "I have told him something similar, although this one was actually better than some." The voice was deep and harsh. More so in fact that it normally was, although only Sam and Dean could have told them that.

Every eye turned to look. A living shadow stood by the door, a near featureless void that seemed to suck the heat from the room simply by existing.

"Who the hell are you?" Brady asked.

The figure tilted its head. "Kaseva." And then he raised his hand.

xxxxxxxx

Brady pulled himself up off the ground and collapsed into a chair. A glance around the room proved that most of the others were still unconscious and the suits that had been holding on to the Winchesters were dead. He suspected that if he hadn't thrown himself out of the line of fire that he'd have been just as deceased.

Naturally, Sam and Dean were gone.

Brady groaned and dropped his face into his hands. "Crap. I cannot believe that that prayer actually worked." He groaned again as he realized what Meg would no doubt do to him for losing them.

xxxxxxxx

Dean watched Sam as he paced back and forward in the loft apartment. When that got boring, he turned his attention to the space they were in. It was very hip, with concrete, chrome and black leather the main decorating features of the place.

"Where are we?"

"My safe house in New York."

Dean turned to look at the angel beside him, who now looked like the Cas he knew and not like a Cas shaped black hole.

Briefly, they both turned their attention back to Sam, who had started cursing under his breath.

"How many of these places do you have anyway?"

"Six, if you include the cabin in Colorado."

Dean nodded and looked around a little more. "I've just been wondering, since when do angels do interior decorating?"

He glanced at Castiel, who looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"Cas?"

"When I started building these places, I looked at a few magazines to get ideas for them."

"What like…Martha Stewart?"

Cas gave a slight cough, as if he needed to clear his throat. "Yes, them and others. They can be quite engrossing."

"Remind me to get you a subscription to a much better magazine."

Sam laughed. Apparently, their conversation had broken his aggravation. "Busty Asian Beauties is not a better magazine, Dean."

"Yeah, right."

It was Sam's turn to look the loft over. "How many decorating magazines did you read, anyway?"

Cas shrugged. "I am not certain of the exact count. It was somewhere in the low thousands."

Dean shook his head. "Am so getting you that subscription."

Sam shook his head and sighed. "Cas, did you know about Brady?"

The angel had to search his memory. "Brady. You went to Stanford with him. He turned out to have been a demon much of that time. He was working for Niveus Pharmaceuticals and co-ordinated logistics for the Horsemen after Lucifer rose."

"Horsemen?" Dean asked. "As in the four Horsemen of the apocalypse? Those Horsemen?"

"Yes."

Both brothers paled significantly.

"Don't suppose you managed to kill Brady with that blast thing you did?" Sam asked.

Cas shook his head. "I was only able to burn the demons out of the bodies of the ones that were holding the two of you. The others were probably only rendered unconscious."

Sam frowned. "Why not go for broke and take them all down?"

Cas ignored the idiom, once more getting the gist of it. "The power needed to destroy twenty demons in one push would most likely have killed the two of you as well. The stadium would also have suffered serious structural damage and those in the stands could have been hurt or killed."

Dean grimaced slightly, "Good call then."

Sam appeared to be thinking of something else though. "What happened to Brady in the other time line?"

Cas found he had to dig for that answer. Many of his memories from then lacked the sharp edges of other recollections. He suspected that the loss of his powers at that time had something to do with it.

Still, he managed to dredge up an answer.

"I believe you killed him." Cas shook his head. "I think there was more to it than that. However, I had been injured and had lost most of my powers at that time. Also, I was not present when you confronted him." He thought for a while longer, before giving up on trying to find a memory he obviously didn't have. "Whatever that extra thing was, I am certain that it was not good. The silences you and Dean shared after confronting him were rather telling."

"So, it was bad?"

Cas nodded. "Very bad."

Sam found a chair and sat down in it, a lost look on his face.

"Sam?"

"I was avoiding thinking about it… but, Brady… He introduced me to Jess, after he was possessed."