Author's Note:

This is set after Supernatural 10x04, so contains spoilers. Constantine is a mix of Hellblazer!John and MattRyan!John. No real spoilers as far as I'm aware.

.

.

ONE

.

"You sure this is the place?" Dean whispered.

Sam nodded. He stole across the open plan office, one hand full of knife, the other busy with a flashlight. "Look," he hissed.

Dean realised Sam was watching a dark shape through the frosted window of a door. He kept his back to the wall and slid round the room to be one side of it. He gestured to it with his head.

Sam plastered himself against the wall on the opposite side. They looked at each other.

Sam ripped the door open.

The man inside jumped in surprise. He staggered around to see Dean come through the door. The Winchester raised his long, inscribed knife. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded.

The stranger, no more than fifty years old and dressed in a rather cheap business suit, waved his hands in surrender. "Wait! Don't hurt me!" he cried.

Sam swished his knife behind his back hastily. He looked around the office. "Sir - are you alone? What are you doing in here?"

"I work here!" the man spluttered. He eyed the knife still obvious in Dean's hand. "Please don't kill me!"

Dean's eyes narrowed. "What's your name?"

The man jumped. "M-me? My name?"

"Your name!" Dean shouted. "What's your name?"

"Uh - Bill," he stammered. "Bill Torrence. I'm just an accountant, I swear—"

"You swear," Dean interrupted, rather sarcastically. He noticed Sam checking the room, taking stock. Dean appraised the man. "Well we tracked you down, pal. Nice handiwork, by the way."

"Wh - what?" Bill asked nervously.

"Those two women in the dumpster? Tell me, when did they die? Before or after you ripped their skin off?"

"Skin? What are you talking about?" Bill cried.

"Where are the other two women?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Bill shouted. "What women?"

"There were four1 in the car! The two in the dumpster account for half of the people you snatched. Now I hope for your sake that you have the other two women holed up somewhere - alive," Dean stressed.

"You're crazy!"

"Uh-huh," Dean said with a matter-of-fact nod. He advanced on Bill. "Game's over. You're coming with us, Bill. And I swear, if you turn out to be a werewolf2 and not a vampire, I'll be upset."

"Wh-what?" Bill asked, his face going white.

"Dean," Sam said quickly. "He was in the safe."

Bill looked at the desk next to him, at the way Sam was eyeing the open door on the small steel box set into the floor. "No I wasn't," he said quietly.

"What were you looking for?" Sam asked. He crouched and checked the contents; rolls of money, some paperwork, and a red ledger.

"N - nothing," Bill said. "It was open when I came in—"

"You didn't want the money, or the papers," Sam mused. He got to his feet. "So tell us what you thought was in there."

Bill looked from one Winchester to the other. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Those four women all worked here - did you take them to find out what was in here?" Sam asked.

"The two in the dumpster - they were pretty cut up," Dean said. "You tortured them to get in here, to get into the safe? What would a vampire want with the contents of a safe?"

"Werewolf," Sam said.

"Fifty bucks still says vampire," Dean replied.

"Vampire? Werewolf? You two are cracked!" Bill whimpered.

Dean grabbed for his shirt front. Bill stepped back - and Dean went flying backwards into the far wall.

Sam brandished his charmed knife. "I wouldn't," he warned.

Bill's shoulders relaxed, and all fear and anxiety slipped off him like rain from a window. He sighed, shaking his head with a rueful smile. "Now look what you made me do, Dean," he said. He put his hands on his hips and looked up at Sam. "You two," he said, shaking a finger at Sam. "You two are a pain in every demon's ass, do you know that?"

Sam kept his knife ready. "Who are you?"

Dean pushed himself to his feet. Bill turned to watch him, ignoring Sam completely. "As if I'd tell you two idiots."

"Ok," Dean said, as if to himself. "Let's wrap this up, Sam. Take him home and get him to spill."

"I'm not telling you anything," Bill snorted.

"That wasn't the kind of 'spilling' I meant," Dean said.

Bill glared at him. He cleared his throat. "You can't hurt me."

"No really, we can," Sam said firmly.

Dean smiled. "You black eyed freaks really do get complacent."

"Black?" the man laughed. "Oh Dean. You underestimate me. This is awesome."

"You know what? We'll just torture the location of the two women out of you and then send you back to Hell," Dean snapped.

"Uh… no, you won't." He blinked - and his eyes flashed up yellow. Sam and Dean's faces dropped. The man grinned. "Azazel wasn't the only Big Man on Campus. So yeah, you brought a knife to a gunfight."

"Have you checked with the king?" Dean asked. "Last time I looked, me and him were drinking buddies. Touching either of us two is a big no-no."

"Crowley can suck it," the man growled. "He's no king to me. You two ruined him, you Winchesters. You turned him into a love-sick puppy, except he doesn't know what he loves any more." He glared at Sam. "For that alone, I'm going to enjoy cutting you down to size."

Dean began to smile as he shoved the knife into his jacket and pulled a gun from the back of his jeans. "Speaking of." He fired twice.

The man buckled and shouted in rage as he landed on the carpet. Sam found his own gun as Dean shuffled round the desk to look down.

"Feel that?" he snarled. "Special bullets, just for demons."

The man writhed on the floor, his hands trying to get purchase on the carpet. "You - you - bastard!" he raged.

The side of Dean's face hitched up in a half-smile. "Oh wait - I forgot one." He fired straight at the man's head.

Sam jumped. He let his gun hand drop as he edged around the desk. The demon was trying to reach a hand up. His strength left him and he collapsed back onto the floor.

Sam looked up at his brother. "Right, so we know that works on demons that aren't knights of Hell," he said awkwardly. He watched Dean's gun drop to his side.

Dean sniffed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Let's get him back to the Batcave, Sam - find out where those two women are and what he was looking for. It'll take him a while to do any real damage now he's got that bullet in his brainpan."

Sam swallowed. "You could have warned me. —That you were going to shoot him."

"Come on, Sam - he's a yellow-eyed demon. What did you think I was going to do? Buy him a beer?" He pushed the gun into his pocket and then bent down. "Gimme a hand with him."

Sam pocketed his gun and ran his hands back through his hair, shaking his head. He crouched and lifted the man under the arms. "We need his name," he grunted as they picked him up and went for the door.

"Oh he'll give us his name," Dean gruffed.

"What if he wasn't looking for anything special?" Sam heaved him out of the door, Dean bringing up the rear, blood smearing on his hands from the wounds to the man's knees.

"Then we just kill him," Dean grunted as Sam continued to back up. They hefted the demon out of the front door and into the car park. "Not the way I thought my weekend would go," Dean said to himself. "But hey, always good to have an asshat to torture."

"You mean interrogate," Sam said, as they paused by the boot of the Impala.

"That's what I said." He dropped the man's knees to go through his pockets for his car keys.

Sam just watched, at a loss to do much else, as Dean opened up the trunk and lifted the man's knees again. They folded him into the boot and stood back. Dean grinned as he shut the lid. He wiped his hands and walked off around the car to the driver's door.

Sam looked back at the boot. Then he hurried to the passenger door as Dean started up the engine.

.

ooOoo

.

The dim light, the odd smell of damp and sour water, the uncomfortable chill - he lifted his head and opened sore eyes. The floor was concrete, painted up with his most hated devil's trap, he noticed. His hands chained to the metal chair began to sting just a little. He hissed as he realised the entire chair was reacting to his demonic presence. He looked up and found another devil's trap above him on the ceiling, even criss-crossing the lights and extractor fan.

A scraping sound made him try to look behind him. He twisted as best he could, but the chains around his wrists and ankles made it nearly impossible.

Boots echoed on the floor and then Sam and Dean came into view. Sam was carrying a notepad and a pencil. Dean had his arms folded, a wide, malicious grin on his face, as he noticed two bloodied bullets on the floor.

"Morning," he said brightly. "Having trouble ejecting that bullet in your head?"

"Screw you," the demon coughed.

Dean looked at his brother. "I don't think he's comfortable, Sam. We should do something about that."

Sam cleared his throat. "Listen. Tell us where the other two women are. Tell us what you were after from that safe and why… and we'll just send you home."

The demon swished something around his mouth. Then he simply spat at Sam.

Dean's head tilted. His arms dropped. He stepped forward and his fist went into the man's face. He cried out in pain, the chair bouncing up with the force of the blow. "Not cool," Dean warned. "Come on, man. Play the game. Give us what we want."

The yellow eyes glittered as they smiled back at Dean. Blood ran down the man's chin. "Oh Dean," he sighed. "I've missed proper violence. People just don't understand how to do it right. But you do, don't you? You like it. You miss it when your brother gives you that look that makes you leash it for the time being. But you miss it. You know you do."

Dean stood back. His eyes bored holes into the demon's. Then he looked at Sam. "Your turn."

Sam nodded, not caring if Dean saw how grateful he was. He turned to the demon. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio—"

The demon jerked and swore, but his eyes shone up at Sam. "Not going to cut it, boy."

"—Infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica," Sam continued. He raised his voice as the man squirmed and spat at him. "Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te! Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare!"

The demon began to laugh. "That tickles!" he cried. "I told you, that's not going to do a damn thing. Not to someone on my paygrade."

Dean stepped up to him and the back of his fist went across his face. The man blurted out a cry of pain. Dean grabbed his hair and yanked his head back to look at him. "You're trapped in that meatsuit, numb-nuts. That means you can hurt just like we can."

The demon laughed. "But I like it," he grinned. He turned his head to spit blood away from Dean. "Please, carry on."

Dean stepped back one, thinking.

Sam cleared his throat. "So you thought it would be in a safe. It's not money, and I don't think you'd be looking to shoot up. What was it? What would you kidnap four workers to find?"

"That safe wasn't big," Dean mused, as he glared at the demon.

"True," Sam nodded. "What's your name?"

The man grinned. "Barney."

Dean stepped forward and his fist went into his face. His head bounced off the chair but he laughed. Dean turned and looked at Sam.

He frowned. "What's your name?"

"Alfred," the demon chuckled.

Again, Dean's hand flashed into his evil grin. He spat blood, shaking his head.

"What's your name?" Sam demanded.

The demon swallowed, taking his time. "Wait…" he managed. "Ok, wait."

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.

The man coughed and then smiled. "Lilith."

Dean walked around behind him, his hand going into his back pocket. The man tensed, waiting for some kind of blow.

But Dean grabbed his hair and yanked his head right back. He lifted something over the man's head and began to tip. Water dribbled down onto his face. The man writhed and screamed, but Dean kept a good hold.

He paused, tipping the hip flask of water upright again. "I thought you enjoyed pain."

The man panted in air, the holy steam around him clearing. "That's - that's cheating," he coughed.

"Winchester," Dean said clearly. He tipped again; a thin trickle began to splash down.

The man shouted and cursed, struggled and pulled. "Gaah! Alright! Alright! Just stop that!"

Dean lifted the flask. He let go of the man to screw the cap back on and shove it into his back pocket.

The demon sucked in grateful air, adjusting his slouch more upright. "Ok. It was just a book."

Dean pulled the flask out of his pocket again with a sigh. Sam folded his arms. "A book?" he scoffed.

The man looked up at him with large, yellow eyes made of hate. "A book. That's all I know. It's supposed to be useful."

"To who?" Sam demanded.

"Get a clue, genius!" the man hurled. "Why would we all be after it?"

"But it wasn't there," Dean said from behind him. "You snatched four women who worked in that office. You tortured two of them, but I'm thinking they didn't tell you where it was."

"None of you know where it is," Sam mused.

The man pursed his lips and sniffed to himself.

Dean looked over at Sam. He gestured behind the chair with his head and Dean turned without a word. He walked away.

The demon tried to twist and see, but he was chained fast. Instead he chuckled3 to himself as he heard the long scrape of some kind of furniture behind him.

.

ooOoo

.

Sam closed the bookshelf doors to the room and looked at his brother. He was rubbing the knuckles of his right hand in thought.

"What do you think?" Sam asked him quietly. "He's not going to tell us where the other two hostages are. Do we really need to know what this book is?"

"If every demon wants it, maybe it's important," Dean said. "What if we find it first? Do you think you can work out what it is?"

"I could try," Sam shrugged. "Do you think it's harmful to them, or to someone they're at war with?"

"Do you think it could do him some damage? Could we use it to torture him a little, find out where these women are?"

"Where do we even start looking?" Sam asked. "I mean, if they've got demons all over the country looking for it, how do we find out what it is so we can track it down? Do we go looking for this book, or just find the women ourselves?"

Dean let his eyes wander around the corridor. "They could be anywhere. The cops said the woman's car was abandoned. Who knows how far she'd driven before he jumped them?" He huffed to himself. "I hate to say it, but I reckon they're just tied up somewhere. If he wasn't sure the book was in the safe, wouldn't he keep someone to torture later on?"

"Assuming he hasn't just killed them already," Sam sighed.

Dean began to walk away, down the corridor, and Sam followed. "We need to find those women," Dean said, "but we also need to get to this demon book. Maybe it can help us torture the son of a bitch to find out where these women are. So… we should get the book first." He paused. "Do you know anyone who might be able to guess at this?"

"I would have asked Bobby," Sam sighed.

"Or Garth," Dean said quietly.

"Hey, uh… do you reckon Crowley knows?"

Dean stopped dead in the corridor. "No I do not. And I don't want him anywhere near any of this."

"Um. Ok," Sam said awkwardly.

Dean frowned at him. "The moment he gets wind of any of this is the moment we lose control."

"We?"

Dean glared. "Of the situation. We've run out of bargaining chips where he's concerned." He paused. "We steer clear. Ok?"

"Ok with me," Sam said darkly. "Totally ok with me."

They walked on until they came out to the main room. Sam went to his chair down the side of one of the the long tables, pushing books and research materials out the way. He picked up his phone and started looking through contacts. Dean went to a bookcase on the wall and pulled out a wooden box. He carried it to the table opposite Sam and took off the lid, looking in.

"What's that?" Sam asked.

"Phones. Every one we've ditched or found along the way." He reached in and picked one out, flipping it open and pressing the power button. "You never know what's on the voicemail, or who's in the contact list."

"So we're cold-calling now?" Sam smiled.

Dean picked out another phone and tossed it to him. Sam caught it and pulled it open. Dean scrolled through his contacts and smiled. "These were all Bobby's. Someone here has to know something. We go through each one till we get some answers."

"And if we don't?" Sam asked.

Dean didn't look up. Instead he put the phone to his ear and turned away from the desk.

Sam looked at the phone in his hands. He went to the contacts list and started at the top.

.

ooOoo

.

"Oh, hey. Yeah, it's Sam - yeah, Winchester," he said. "Yeah I know. So… how's Pahrump, Max?" He paused, listening. He looked across the room at Dean, finding him similarly engaged in conversation. Then Dean snapped the phone closed and tossed it to the table, running his hand through his hair in resignation. "Yeah, I'll bet," Sam said down the phone. "So I'm really calling about a book. Yeah. No, it's nothing something Bobby had - I've already checked. Got a friend who went through all his stuff for us, yeah." He paused. "Right, so… have you heard anything about demons looking for a book right about now? —Well we got one, but he's not being very helpful. No - yellow. Yeah, I know, right? An actual yellow-eyed-demon in the basement." He sniffed. "We have no idea. We tried an exorcism but he literally laughed it off." He listened for a full minute. "Ok… uh-huh. Got it. But you don't have the… Sure. Ok. Oh really? And how did you—. Ah. Right." He snapped his fingers at Dean. "I'm gonna put you on speaker, Max. Dean's here, he'll want to hear this."

Dean sat down and waited as Sam put the phone on the table, pressing the requisite key.

"—He there now? Can you hear me?" came a woman's voice.

"Hey Max. This is Dean," he said. "Have we met?"

"When you were about… ooh, nineteen," she chuckled. "You and your dad did a job in Flagstaff. A haunting? Married couple trying to burn their old house down with the new occupants in it?"

"Oh - yeah! That," he grinned. "Wow. Has it been that long?"

"Tell me about it. First of all, you need some ancient curse to get rid of a yellow-eyed-demon. A normal exorcism won't cut it."

"So we heard," Dean nodded.

"Good news is, it's probably in a book. Let me back up." Max paused. "Sam here was asking if demons are into books. Well I had a bit of a conversation with a black-eyed bastard just three days ago. Turns out he was searching some library for a book - really old. He was in the ancient stuff section. Me and a friend bagged and tagged him, gave him some quality time with some Latin and some holy water. In the end he said 'Soyga'. That was it."

"Wait - the book of Soyga?" Sam said.

"You know it?" Max asked.

"Yeah - that could get rid of a yellow-eyed-demon for us. He'd tell us where his hostages are."

"Shit - are you on a time limit?" Max asked.

"Yeah. We need to find two women he's got holed up somewhere."

"Right," she said. "You know, I couldn't give a rat's ass for some dusty old book. I'd rather have a good weapon," Max grumped.

"Woman after my own heart," Dean smiled.

"How you faring, Dean?" she asked. "Word around the campfire was you went off the res for a while there."

Dean cleared his throat. "Just for a while. I'm all good, though. Sam saw to that."

Sam kept his eyes on the phone. "So did he say where this book of Soyga was?"

"He might have said the only place they hadn't looked was the one place they couldn't look."

"A church?" Dean guessed.

"Nah - the ancient library. You're luck - it's open until tomorrow night. It closes right on midnight," she said.

"Which ancient library?" Dean asked.

"Oh come on, Dean. The ancient library. The one place they will only be able to get into until tomorrow night. Get there first, boys. And make sure you leave the library before midnight."

"Uhm… ok," Sam shrugged. "Thanks, Max. You've cleared this whole thing up for us."

"No sweat, Sam. Just one day, you two come over to Pahrump and help me throw a weekend bender for all us hunters still alive and kicking."

"You bet," Dean grinned. "So where is this library?"

Max laughed. "You're cute. Everyone knows where it is."

"Then why doesn't everyone go and get the book there?" Sam asked innocently.

"You'll see," she said, a grin evident by her tone. "It's in Little Rock. I'll text you the address. You'll want it in your satnav."

"Our sat-what?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Max. Really. We owe you one."

"Then get down here to Pahrump and make good on it - I'll be waiting. You boys take care."

"Thanks, Max," Dean said.

"Thanks," Sam added quickly.

The line went dead and Sam closed the phone. He looked at Dean. "You think she meant—?"

"I don't want to think about it until this case is done," Dean said. "But yeah, I think she did." He sat back in his chair. "A hunter's kegger. For a whole weekend. Now that's a perk of the job."

Sam smiled. The phone buzzed and he picked it up. "Got the address."

Dean stood up. "Then we're going to Little Rock."

"That's like… It's going to take us like…" He pressed at something on the screen of his phone. "Eight and a half hours of driving."

"That's our best bet for finding the book, Sam. We need to get there and back as quick as we can if we're going to find these women."

"Alright. Are we leaving the demon in the basement here by himself?"

Dean paused. "Well I ain't taking him on a joyride to Arkansas."

Sam got up. "Then we'll make him wait in discomfort. I'll set the traps and get my stuff."

"Meet you at the car."

.

Thanks for trying this out, folks. I said I wasn't going to do another crossover, but then I got this dare are... Here we are. Ten more chapters to go...