Superstitions {Dean Winchester 2}

Chapter 24

Crossroad Blues

"What's this guy's name again?" Sam asked as we walked up the stairs of the apartment complex.

"George Darrow." Dean answered, hand on my waist. "Apparently quite the regular at Lloyd's. His house probably ain't up next on MTV Cribs, is it?"

"Yeah. So, whatever kind of deal he made..." 

"It wasn't for cash." Dean filled in. "Oh, who knows? Maybe his place is full of babes in Princess Leia bikinis?"

I rolled my eyes, jabbing my elbow into his ribs. 

"I'm just saying, this guy's got one epic bill come due." Dean says. "Hope at least he asked for something fun."

"What fun is worth an eternity in hell? What kind of fun can you not figure out a way to have without selling your soul?" I asked.

Dean shrugged. "I guess you've got a point."

"You guess?" I asked. 

We round a corner, stopping at the door to apartment 4C. Dean reached into his pocket, going to pull out a lock pick.

"Look at that." Sam pointed to the line of black dust lining the bottom on the door. 

We knelt down as Dean reached out to brush his fingers over it. "What is that, pepper?" He asked, bringing his hand up to see if the dust had a scent.

"Who has a line of pepper at their door?" I asked. 

"Maybe that confused on the whole salt keeps ghosts away thing." 

Suddenly the door open. We shot up. A dark skinned man stood there. "Who the hell are you?"

"George Darrow?" Dean asked. 

"I'm not buying anything." George almost shut the door.

"Whoa, looks like you went for the wrong  shaker there." Dean gestured to the dust on the floor, making George open the door again. "Usually when you wanna keep something evil out, you go for the salt." 

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Talking about this." Dean pulled the small photo we'd found in the tin out. "Tell me. You seen that hellhound yet?"

"Look, we wanna help. Please. Just five minutes." Sam says. 

___

George's apartment was filled with different supernatural symbols and items to keep away evil, large canvas's with paintings drying on them, and alcohol bottles. Blues music played through the radio.

"So what is that stuff out front?" Sam asked.

"Goofer dust." George says. "You three think you know something about something but not Goofer dust." He tossed a bag of the dust to Dean, who caught it.

"Well, we  know a little about a lot of things. Just enough to make us dangerous." Dean replied. 

Okay, see, now that was hot. 

Focus, Saige. Focus.

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"Hoodoo." George answered. "My grandma taught me. Keeps out demons."

"Demons we know." Dean says. 

"Well, then, keep it. Maybe it'll do you some good." George walked across the room and sat down in a recliner chair. "Four minutes left."

"Mr. Darrow, we know you're in trouble." Sam began.

"Yeah, that you got yourself into." Dean added.

I smack his arm. "Dean."