~*****~

Dean sat across from Sam and I in a small diner both while we waited for our food. The waitress stepped by to refill our coffee, and once again gave him googly eyes. He smirked and gave her a flirty wink before sipping at his coffee, to which I kicked his shin roughly before staring down at his mugshot from St. Louis. "So much for low profile. You've got a warrant in St. Louis, and now you're officially in the Fed's database." I stated as I sipped at my coffee. I glanced at Dean's smug look, and I started chuckling.

He flung his arms out across the back seat of the leather booth, grinning like an idiot. "Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something."

"I wonder if there's a reward for your arrest?" I hum softly as I lean against the table with an agitated look. "Nothing's come up for Sam."

"Well, what do they got on you?" Dean questioned.

"An ongoing investigation on my disappearance. Thanks a lot, they know I'm alive now." I drone. "According to this, I've got no living relatives. Why the hell are they still looking for me?" I groan heavily.

"Closure, I guess? Maybe they've been working your case for years and they just want to solve it." Sam comments.

"Ah, shut up." I snap.

"What'dya got on the case there?" Dean asked after laughing a little at Sam's pout.

"Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed." I explain as I lay out the papers.

"Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?" Dean asked.

"Two days earlier." Sam stated softly.

"Did he actually say Black Dog?" Dean inquired.

I nodded swiftly. "Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get passed the doorman, take the elevator up, and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later, he takes the swan dive." I state softly.

"Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?" Dean asks as he lowered his voice while someone walked by.

"Well, maybe." Sam replied.

"What's the lore on it?" Dean asked.

"It's all pretty vague, I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways... whatever they are, they're big- Nasty." I explained.

"Yeah, I bet he could hump the crap outta your leg, look at that one, huh?" Dean chuckled as he turned the page over to show a picture of a large, skinny, black dog. We both gave him a look. "What? They could." He defended himself.

"Only you'd think about that." I sighed softly. Dean's face dropped as Sam and I got up to leave. "You comin' sweet heart?" I chuckle.

~*****~

Dean wandered around the apartment suit, Sam checked around the kitchen, and I was currently speaking to Mr. Johnson. "So, you and Sean Boyden were business partners for almost ten years, right?" I asked softly.

"That's right. Now one more time, this is for..." David questioned as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"A tribute to Mr. Boyden. Architectural Digest." I answered smoothly. David's face fell into surprise as a small chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Is... there something funny about that?"

"No, it... it's just, a tribute. Yeah. See, Sean always got the tributes. He kills himself, leaves me and his family behind.... Well, he gets another tribute." David shrugged almost bitterly. He seemed a bit... angry.

"Right. Any idea why he'd do such a thing?" Sam asked.

"I- I have no clue, I mean, he lived a charmed life." David informed us.

"How so?" I ask.

"He was a flat-out genius. I mean, I'm capable, but next to him, I..." He trailed off with a soft sigh. "And it wasn't always that way, either."

"No?" Dean pressed.

"You wanna know the truth? There was a time where he couldn't even design a pup tent. Hell, ten years ago he's working as a bartender at this place called Lloyds. A complete dive." David revealed, his eyes flickering between the three of us.

"Right. So what changed?" Sam asked in confusion.

"You got me. But overnight, he gets this huge commission, and he starts designing the most ingenious buildings anyone has ever seen. It was like, the level of Van Gogh, and Mozart..." David cut himself off abruptly.

"What?" Dean questioned.

"It's funny. True geniuses, they seem to die young, don't they? To have that kind of talent? Why... why just throw it away?" David said, shaking his head slightly.

~*****~

Sam and I sat in the Impala as Dean questioned the animal protection agency to find information on the black dog. I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel impatiently as I tugged at the loose locks from my bun. Dean finally exited the building and waltzed towards the Impala, and slid into the passenger seat. "So?" Sam asked before Dean had a chance to close the door.

"Secretary's name is Carly. She's twenty three, she, uh, kayaks, and they're real." Dean smirked as I reached over and tugged his ear. "Ow! Okay, okay! Sheesh, I was only- Ow!" I tugged his ear again to stop him and gave him my no nonsense look. "Anyway. Every complain called in this week about anything big, black, or dog-like. There's nineteen calls in all." Dean answered as he rubbed at his red ear. He held up a piece of paper which Sam took. He grabbed the sticky note off of the paper in confusion. "And, uh, I don't know what this thing is." Dean tried shamelessly.

I took if from Sam and looked it over before glaring over the small sticky note. "Carly's MySpace address?"

"Yeah, MySpace, what the hell is that?" Dean questioned again, and at that moment, I knew he was serious. The poor thing, so technologically challenged. Sam and I started chuckling at him. "Seriously, is that like some sort of porn site?"

Sam and I started laughing heavily and slamming our hands against our thighs. "D-Dean, I swear to god, you're adorable!" I cried as I reached over and pinched his cheek. I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Yeah, yeah." He grumbled. "Is it really a porn site though?" Dean asked again. Sam and I once again started laughing and I started driving.

~*****~

Dean gave me a flirty smile as I trailed up the cobbled pathway after him when he stopped for me. We've been to so many houses today, and they were mostly stupid little dogs that had been barking obsessively. "I swear to god, if this is another annoying ankle biter, I'm going to kick it." I snapped as I knocked on the door. A young woman had answered.

"Afternoon, ma'am." Dean greeted and pulled out his fake ID. "Uh, animal control."

"Oh, someone already came yesterday." The woman informed us with a polite smile.

"We're the follow up. We're looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?" I asked. A strange look crossed her face and after a moments pause, she suddenly invited us in.

"The doctor, well, she- I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago." She explained as she lead us into the kitchen.

"Okay. And you are....?" Sam trailed off for us to fill in the blanks.

"I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid." She greeted with another polite smile.

"So, where'd the doctor go?" Dean inquired as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm not sure. She just packed and went, she didn't say where. The stray dog- did you find it?" The maid questioned in concern.

"Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?" Sam asked.

"Well, no. I never even heard it." The maid revealed. "I was almost starting to think the doctor was imagining things, but she's not like that, so...."

"Hey, you know I read she was, uh, chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job." I commented softly. That was confusing.

"Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?" The maid smiled in pride for her boss.

"Huh..." I sighed gently. "An overnight success. Ten years ago." I repeated.

"Yeah, we know a guy like that. Oh, look at this." I commented as I strode over to a picture on the counter. "Lloyd's bar."

~*****~

The Impala slowed to a stop at the crossroads, ultimately, at Llyod's Bar at one of the corners. We stepped out of the Impala as the dusty roads billowed softly against my ankles. I rubbed my arms gently at the feel of the intersection.

"Hey." Dean called as he stopped by my side.

"Yeah." Sam asked.

"That's weird." Dean muttered as he motioned outwards. 

"What?"

"Think someone planted these?" Dean questioned as he wandered forwards to stand before a patch of yellow flowers in the middle of the fields of weeds.

"Middle of all these weeds?" Sam inquired. I knelt down to them and ran my fingers of the soft, yellow petals.

"These are, uh, what do you call 'em..." Dean trailed off as he started clicking his fingers in thought.

"They're yarrow flowers, babe." I stated as I stood up.

"They're used for certain rituals, aren't they?" Dean asked as his eyebrows furrowed.

"Summoning rituals." I mumbled. I stomach tightened as I gazed around. "So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Llyod's."

"Where there just happens to be a crossroads. You think?" Sam questioned.

Dean shrugged slightly. "Let's find out." He stepped over to the center of the road and looked around for measure. "This seem about dead center to you?" Dean asked me.

"As close as you can get." I hummed as I went to the Impala. "Let me grab the shovel."

Dean started digging, and a few moments, he hit something solid. "Yahtzee." He muttered as he stooped down to scrape away the remaining dirt. He pulled out an old crusted box, and flipped the lid open.

It was filled with some small bones and a jar of black dust. I grabbed it and inspected it for a moment before frowning. "I'd give you everything in my wallet to say thats graveyard dirt. And that bone; it's a black cat bone."

"That's some serious spell work. I mean, that's Deep South Hoodoo stuff." Dean said with a small huff.

"Used to summon a demon." Sam murmured.

"Not just summon one, Sam. Crossroads are where pacts are made." I explained sourly.

"These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good." Dean continued.

"They're seeing dogs, all right." I stated angrily. "But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls. And there's no known way to kill them."

"Whoever this demon is, it's back and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running, she ain't running fast enough." Dean sighed softly.

Dean dusted off his pants before holding his hand out to me. I handed the box over and got up. We strode over to the Impala and set the box onto the trunk. "So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you've heard his music." I stated snidely. Sam shrugged, but I had no doubt he had listened to them.

"You don't know Robert Johnson's songs?" Dean cut in, looking at Sam in disbelief. "Sam, there's- There's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, Crossroad Blues? Me and the Devil Blues? Hellhound on My Trail?" Sam frowned at his brother. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "The story goes, he died choking on his own blood, he was hallucinating, and muttering about big, evil dogs."

"And now it's happening all over again." I stated as I leaned against the Impala.

"Yeah."

"We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here." I added while straightening my leather jacket.

"Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal." Dean snapped harshly.

"So, what, we just leave them to die?" I snapped back.

"Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?"

"Dean." Sam scolded.

"All right, fine." Dean grumbled angrily. He paused for a moment before grabbing a small phot from the box, and turning it around to show us a black and white picture of a man. "Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So, this guy probably summoned this thing, lets go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive." Dean smirked as he started towards the bar.

"Somethings wrong..." I muttered softly.

"I've noticed." Sam agreed. "It's like he doesn't care."

"I know...." I trailed off. "Not everyone sells their soul for personal gain. And its like he doesn't even realize that." I bit at my lip softly at the thought. Selling your soul - how low do you have to sink to think it's the right thing to do. It's a gray topic to discuss, and there's been times since John's death that I don't think about selling my own soul to bring him back. I couldn't bear to see the boys suffering so much.