Chapter Text
Dean didn’t pay any attention to the demon that had slipped into the shop; really only briefly acknowledging the presence of a customer before focusing back on the scales sat on the counter.
They’d had weirder pop in every now and again, looking for some rare ingredient for some even rarer spell they wouldn’t talk about. Like he gave a crap about what or who they were cursing, Dean just didn’t want to lose a customer ‘cause they blew themselves up using the wrong freakin’ kind of unicorn hair.
It’s bad for business y’know.
At least demons gave a little excitement on the few occasions they did need something, some of the greatest hagglers out there, really made you work for the payment. Though slippery little bastards when they think they can get away with it.
He swore roughly under his breath as the Afanc scale sliced into his finger, right through the leviathan-hide (the shed, sea serpent kind, god forbid them ever managing to getting anything more than teeth of God’s first children) gloves. Thankfully it hadn’t gone deep enough to draw red; it’d be a waste of a scale if his blood got absorbed be the thing. The poison was also a dick to nullify if it spread through the body.
With a frustrated sigh, the 25 year old placed the last scale into the crystal container, ready to be put on display on the ancient oak shelves behind his place at the counter.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”
Lifting his head, Dean appraised the snarky being before him. Short, stout, old and hairy, not the usual meatsuit their kind preferred. Not nearly as “pretty” as most others he’d seen. In Dean’s opinion, they went a bit far with the whole “7 sins” thing… Overly proud wasn’t an attractive look on anyone.
He let out a low, impressed whistle as his eyebrows rose.
“Looks like we got some royalty in here. What happened to ya usual goffer’s? Managed to get themselves ganked?” Dean started, removing the suffocating gloves and placing the boxes of murky-blue scales on the display shelves.
“Prefer to do my own shopping; don’t want the poor fools to get any ideas. Though that was impressive, most don’t recognise the king of the crossroads by sight alone… how’d you do it?”
The British accent added a further note of snarky sarcasm to the sentence. But the question was awarded a conspiratorial grin. As he leaned forward, Dean tapped lightly at the skin underneath his left eye. The silver iris and pupil, looking dead and blind as it had for the past three years, shimmered for a second before settling again.
“Payment from Ma’at for a pretty big order a while back, lets me see the true form of whatever I look at. Pretty handy for a job like this.” He quickly straightened back up and crossed his arms. “But that ain’t what you’re here for. So what can I do for ya?”
The demon hummed appreciatively, “I do love a bit of professionalism. I had heard that this was the best place to get the more… obscure. But to be doing business with the gods themselves? It’s admirable.” A piece of paper appeared in hand, “I need a couple things for a spell of mine.”
Dean read down the list he had been given, brow furrowing at the amount of volatile ingredients. He hoped this demon knew what he was doing else there’ll be one less section of Hell with this mix.
- Soma – 6 leaves
- Manticore nails – 3
- Unicorn horn – 1 (powdered)
- Ghost tears – 2 drops
- Angel fe-
“Angel feathers?” Dean asked incredulously, his eyes bearing down into the Crossroad King’s. “What the hell kind of spell are you doing that needs friggin’ angel feathers?”
The other simply tutted in mock disappointment, “Didn’t you know, a lady never reveals her secrets. Trust me, it isn’t any of your concern.”
A harsh sigh escaped the shop-keep; Dean rubbed his forehead in the vain hope it would dissipate the growing headache. He wished these people, supernatural or otherwise, would actually do the smart thing and get a proper consultation. This is something he’s trained in, and yet almost every customer seems to think they know better than him.
“Look you Prick, at least tell me the age and origin of the damn spell. The older ones need a proper specialist to have a look. We had a case a while back where the witch thought she needed Hell-hound fur, when she actually needed Cŵn Annwn fur. But thanks to the translation from the Celtic spell, she ended up minus half her body and raised any dead within a mile from the spell site!”
Dean felt his anger rise at the patronising look he was getting. If it didn’t mean pissing off one of Hell’s royalty, Dean would have socked the guy. Hell, he was still considering it.
“I think I have that sorted, considering it is my mother’s spell. I have all the specialists I need, I just need the ingredients. Now, if you could.”
“Fine. Fine.” Dean waved dismissively, if the demon thought he had it sorted, then who was he to keep him from blowing himself up. Payment was payment after all. “It’s gonna be pretty pricey, but something tells me you knew that.”
Making sure the wards and seals were in place, Dean made his way to the main storage with the list and a basket to carry the order. Most was in stock, and it only took a quick trip to the green house to get the rest. The basket gripped in his right hand getting heavier with each addition.
“Why the fuck does it need to be this heavy?” Dean murmured to himself as he moved his way back into the shop-front.
The demon wasn’t where Dean had left him, instead the Royal was browsing the multitude of herbs, bones and other odds and ends that were safe to keep out for the more tame customers.
“You have a good selection here. I didn’t know you could even get this many Demon bones.” Dean would’ve had to have been an idiot to miss the sharp suspicious glare he was given. “I don’t have to worry, do I?”
Newbies, Dean thought with an audible snort.
“Any Demon bones we have were either freely given as payment, or were already too dead to get permission from. So unless you’re willing to give me your bones, I won’t be touching them.”
With practiced hands, the freckled man packed away the order and mentally calculated the worth of it all together. He added one last protection rune to the cheap wooden box and looked back to his customer.
“So what are you willing to give in payment?” He asked simply. Best not give a Demon an idea of the true worth, or they won’t go anywhere over it for a decent profit.
“I’m the King of the Crossroads, so how about I make a deal. In exchange for those ingredients, I’ll grant you any one wish… within reason of course.”
Dean raised an eyebrow at the offer. He had taken favours like this in the past from Demons much lower on the totem pole, but despite the power the Crossroads King, it wasn’t enough for the payment. And the Demon knew it.
Suppressing a smirk, Dean countered, “As much as a wish would be nice, I’ll be needing something a bit more substantial and tradable within the near future.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the wooden countertop. “Let’s say fifty damned souls, all of which have to have experienced Hell for at least seventy years but have yet to fully turn into demon, and six new-born hellhounds, recently weaned and at least three need to be in full health.”
“Twenty-five souls and the six hellhounds.”
“Who do you take me for? Forty-five souls, with the seventy years in Hell, and eight hounds, three in full health, all recently weaned. Take one of the offers I’ve given, or there will be no deal. You’re already getting these cheaper than anywhere else.”
“Very well. Done.”
Dean smirked as the Demon flinched. The binding spell burning itself onto the Demon’s soul, making itself known to the visible world through a branding, looking similar to a pentagram to an untrained eye, on the right hand of the customer.
“Just to let you know, that spell circle will stay until payment, which must be within the next six months, else your very being will be forfeit as payment instead. What we choose to do with you if are unable to pay will be up to us and you will have no power to stop us from taking anything until you pay off what you owe. So thank you for shopping at Winchester’s shop for all things Witch and Wiccan, and we hope to see you again soon!”