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[hopeitsworthit]

It's damn hard to stop thinking 'oh Jesus, this is so fucked', but Dean's pretty sure demons can smell fear, and he ain't about to give this one what she wants.

Not by a long shot.

Which is why he's taking deep breaths as he drops an old ID photo into the box, dirt scraping under his nails as he reburies it.

At the crossroads.

Fuck. Today is really gonna--

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[justasaleswoman]

She comes up behind him, as he straightens from burying that box, a woman with long brown hair and short black dress.

"So," she says, spreading her hands invitingly, "what brings a guy like you to a place like this?"

Her focus is completely on the guy like him. She's seen more places like this than she can be bothered to recall.

[hopeitsworthit]

Of course she shows up the second his back is turned. It figures.

And--

Hey, she's hot. He finds himself hoping that whoever the hellbitch decided to ride, no one's gonna be freaking out about where she's gone. Just for a second.

Then it's game on. He'll worry about the girl later.

There goddamn fucking will be time.

[justasaleswoman]

She tilts her head, amused at his reaction.

"You called me."

[hopeitsworthit]

He gives her another once-over, the beginning of an appreciative look crossing his face.

Play to the audience, right?

Plus it gives him somethin' to concentrate on besides the sinking feeling in his stomach. It had to be demons, huh?

"I'm just glad it worked."

[justasaleswoman]

She's all mock-solicitude.

"First time?"

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean's jaw tightens, but he manages an expression that's more a smile than a grimace. He fights the urge to crack his neck.

"You could say that."

[justasaleswoman]

She steps closer.

"Oh, come on now. Don't sell yourself short."

No matter how good at it he is.

She stops a few feet away, facing him. "I know all about you, Dean Winchester," she tells him and, for a moment, lets her eyes glow red.

[hopeitsworthit]

He doesn't take a step back, because--

Well, just because. Goddammit. She knows his fucking name.

"So you know who I am."

So what?

[justasaleswoman]

She shrugs, lightly.

"I get the newsletter," she says, smile not wavering.

She's used to putting people at ease.

You have to be, in her line of work, or you never get anything done.

[hopeitsworthit]

He takes a step forward instead of away, because he's stubborn like that.

And two can play the putting people at ease game. Even if she ain't exactly people.

"Don't keep me in suspense."

His nerves'll snap if this goes on too long, strung tight and watching every move.

"What've you heard?"

[justasaleswoman]

"Well," she says, coming still closer, and lowering her voice, "I heard you were handsome, but you're just edible."

Her eyes dart over him and then back to his face.

"What can I do for you, Dean?" she asks, in her normal tone of voice but close to his shoulder now.

[hopeitsworthit]

Dean doesn't jerk away, even if his skin is crawling. He kinda wants to put his fist through her face.

Then he flicks a glance over her shoulder, toward the Impala, and leans into her. A little.

"Maybe we could do this someplace quieter--like my car? Nice and private."

He lets his lip curl at that last bit. Just to sell it. And because seething hatred ain't about to get him what he wants.

[justasaleswoman]

Once, just once, could she get summoned by someone with a decent car?

"Sounds good to me," she says, turning.

[hopeitsworthit]

Gotcha.

Now to keep her too busy to think.

"So. I was hopin' we could strike a deal."

Like there's any other reason anyone'd call her up.

[justasaleswoman]

Like there's any other reason anyone'd call her up.

"That's what I do," she says, and doesn't roll her eyes.

He's edible, yes, but not exactly smooth.

(She was expecting smooth. Or at least smoother than this.)

[hopeitsworthit]

Okay. No more pussyfooting.

Here goes.

He turns to face her, leaning against his baby.

"I want Evan Hudson released from his contract."

[justasaleswoman]

(She was also expecting someone who knew a little more about how this works.)

"So sorry, darling," she says, briskly. "That's not negotiable."

[hopeitsworthit]

There's a lot of shit Dean's not thinking about when he says--

"I can make it worth your while."

Demons are all the same, aren't they? Every single fucking one of 'em.

[justasaleswoman]

"Oh really?" she says, and lets herself sound . . . skeptical.

"What are you offering?"

What does anyone offer her?

[hopeitsworthit]

He can't help holding his arms out, twisted grin spreading across his face.

"Me."

And who could pass up on this?

[justasaleswoman]

"Well, well, well," she says slowly. "You'd sacrifice your life for someone else's."

She pauses, because she's just getting to the good part, and oh but she'd hate to rush this punchline.

Her smile is bright. "Like father, like son."

[hopeitsworthit]

It hits his gut like a stone, heavy and painful, and he has to clench his jaw to keep from throwing up.

Bitch. Goddamn bitch. Her and that yellow-eyed fucker.

Mind on the job, dipshit. Focus. Reel her in.

[justasaleswoman]

His reaction does not go unnoticed, minor as it is (and she'll admit that she's a little impressed).

She looks up at him, eyebrows raised.

"You did know about your dad's deal, right?" she asks, though she knows he didn't.

Suspected, maybe, but didn't know.

"His life for yours?"

She comes closer, stops by the door to the car.

"Oh, I didn't make the deal myself," she says, letting regret slink across her voice, "but boy, I wish I had."

[hopeitsworthit]

Oh, he just bets she did.

It almost hurts to crack open the passenger door, hand held out to usher her inside.

Like she was a lady or somethin'.

"After you."

Come on. Come on.

[justasaleswoman]

"Such a gentleman," she says, hand on the car door.

But she looks down, just before she steps into the car and notices painted white symbols, the edge of something, beneath it.

Not much of it shows, but then, not much of it has to for her to know what it is is.

"A Devil's Trap?" she says, and all show of affability is gone.

"You have got to be kidding me."