Chapitre 23: Chapter nineteen
Chapter 19
Dean spun Pestilence’s ring on Bobby’s desk, aimlessly. Him, Sam and Castiel had just returned from getting Pestilence’s ring, but weren't too happy about it. Alex had decided to stay with Bobby and the guys for a while, having nothing else to do.
“Well, it’s nice to score a home run for once, ain’t it?” Bobby said as Dean tossed the ring a few inches away from him onto the desk. “What?” Bobby asked, noticing the three men’s unhappy expressions.
“The last thing Pestilence said. ‘It’s too late’” Sam said simply.
“Did he get specific?”
“No.” Sam shook his head.
“We’re just a little freaked out that he left a bomb somewhere. So please tell us you have actual good news.” Dean explained.
“Chicago’s about to be wiped off the map,” Alex sighed from where she sat on Bobby’s bed/couch.
“Storm of the millennium,” Bobby continued. “Set’s off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die.”
“I don’t understand your definition of good news.” Castiel commented from where he stood leaning against a shelf.
“Well, Death, the horseman, he’s gonna be there. And if we can stop him before he kickstarts this storm, get his ring back-” Bobby explained.
“Yeah, you make it sound so easy.” Dean said sarcastically.
“Hell, I’m just trying to put a spin on it.”
“Bobby, how’d you two put this all together anyway?” Sam asked.
“We had...you know...help…” Bobby shrugged a little.
Alex chuckled a bit, “Yeah. Help…”
“Don’t be so modest.” They all turned to see Crowley pouring himself a drink in the kitchen. “I barely helped at all..” He walked towards the library, “Hello boys. Pleasure, etcetera.” He leaned against the door frame.
He smelled the drink he poured, then put it down. “Go ahead, tell them. There’s no shame in it.”
“Bobby? Tell us what?” Sam and Dean turned back to the man in the wheelchair.
“World’s gonna end, seemed stupid to get all precious over one little...soul…” Bobby grumbled.
“You sold your soul?!” Dean asked.
“Oh, more like pawned it. I fully intend to give it back.” Crowley corrected.
“Then give it back!” Dean ordered.
“I will.”
“Now!”
“Did you kiss him?” Sam interrupted.
“Sam!”
“Just wondering…” Everyone turned to Bobby and Alex had to keep herself from laughing.
“No!” Bobby defended himself.
Crowley cleared his throat to get their attention and they turned to see him holding up his phone with a picture of him and Bobby kissing on the screen.
“Why’d you take a picture?” Bobby asked angrily.
“Why’d you have to use tongue?” Crowley retorted, smirking.
“Alright you know what I’m sick of this.” Dean stood up and turned to Crowley. “Give him his soul back, now.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I won’t, alright! It’s insurence.”
“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, angry and confused.
“You kill demons. Gigantor over their has a temper issue about it. But you won’t kill me. As long as I have that soul in the deposit box.” Crowley explained roughly.
“You son of a bitch.” Bobby growled.
“I’ll return it. After all this is over and I can safely walk away. Do we all understand each other?!” Crowley raised his voice.
~
Alex helped Castiel and Bobby pack up a truck later that night, they had learned from Crowley that Niveus Pharmaceuticals was planning on giving out croatoan virus as a ‘cure’ for swine flu.
Castiel sighed and stopped packing. “What’s your problem?” Bobby asked, him and Alex stopping too.
“This is what they mean by ‘the eleventh hour’ right?” Castiel asked.
“Yeah, basically.” Alex placed another duffel bag into the truck.
“Well, it’s the eleventh hour and I am completely useless.” Castiel complained. “All I have is this, what am I even supposed to do with it?!” He held up a shotgun.
Alex chuckled, pitying the angel somewhat,
“Point it and shoot.” Bobby said obviously.
“What I used to be-”
“Are you really gonna bitch, to me?” Bobby asked, rolling over to Castiel. “Quit pining to the varsity years and load the damn truck.” He threw one of the last bags into the angels arms.
“Alright, well, good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse.” Dean said when they had all finished packing.
“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “Good luck killing Death.”
“Yeah,” Dean sighed.
Sam chuckled, “Remember when we used to just hunt windigos? How simple things were?”
“Not really.”
“Well uhm,” Sam pulled out the demon blade, “You might need this.”
“Keep it.” Crowley suddenly appeared, holding a small rusty scythe. “Dean’s covered.” He handed the scythe to Dean, “Kills, golly, demons and angels and reapers and rumor has it, the thing itself.”
“How did you get that?” Castiel asked.
“Hello, King of the Crossroads. So, shall we? Bobby, you just gonna sit there?”
“No, I’m gonna riverdance.” Bobby retorted dryly.
“I suppose, if you want to impress the ladies…” Crowley muttered. “Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted that crossroads deal. Fact, you get more if you phrase it properly. So, I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub-a clause on your behalf. What can I say? I’m an altruist.”
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone