The Wheels On The Bus Chapter 21

Jack often prides himself in the fact that he can stay calm and collected and generally optimistic under most circumstances (although a part of him is aware that it might just be childish naivety - he is technically a toddler after all), but at the moment, he is two seconds away from punting Belphegor through a wall. 

The demon, already cocooned in a fort of pillows, waves a hand through the fort’s tiny space that acts as a window. “I need more blankets.”

“I’ll get one to choke you with them,” Adam says.

Belphegor withdraws his hand to stick his head (partially) out, “Do you want me to talk to some funky demons or not?”

“You don’t need - “ In frustration, Adam kicks the side of the fort. It doesn’t topple, what with the amount of pillows it’s been built with. Some just get knocked out of place.

Jack considers praying to some higher authority, but the last one he’d met had killed him, so he just sits down and frowns at Belphegor. 

Belphegor pulls his head back in, sniffs and raises his chin - nearly breaking into a laughing fit but managing to keep himself from doing so - and crosses his arms in a display of childishness. “I’ve done everything for this team and this is how you repay me?”

“You’ve been insufferable to this team along the way, that’s why,” Adam says. “Just talk to the damn demons.”

“But I need to be in a good state of mind to do so,” Belphegor says, “I’ve had a killer headache for the past few days and it hasn’t stopped.”

“Usually when you’re being a jackass, it’s a sign you’re okay,” Jack mutters. He remembers he has his bingo card with him, tucked into one of the pockets of his jacket, and he starts rifling through them to try to figure out which one.

“You’ve got such a potty mouth these days, Kline,” Belphegor says, pretending to look hurt.

“Who do you think he learned that from?” Adam asks.

“You’re proud of being a bad influence, Milligan?”

Adam starts grabbing pillows away from the fort, and Belphegor immediately swats his hands away with a “Heyheyheyheyheyheyhey hey! Hands off!”

Jack finds his bingo card, folded neatly into his chest pocket. He takes it out, looks for the box that says Belphegor Makes Things Difficult By Being A Dick and crosses it off with the pen he’s kept with him.

Adam and Belphegor have stopped bickering as they notice him putting the card and the pen away, catching on as to what prompted him to mark off a box.

“Oh, you little brat.” Belphegor says.

“Should I not have taken the opportunity?” Jack asks.

“You absolutely should have,” Adam says. Belphegor grabs a fallen pillow and hits him with it. Adam falls on his side laughing.

“I feel betrayed,” Belphegor says. “To think - after everything we’ve been through - “

“Just talk to the demons,” Jack says, flatly, although there’s a hint of a smile in the corner of his lips. Belphegor huffs, rolling his eyes, but he ends up cracking a grin before he settles in his pillow fort and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

“You don’t really need to breathe,” Adam says.

“It helps,” Belphegor mutters, flipping him off blindly. 

After a few minutes of silence, the demon starts to frown. Jack can see his hands shaking a little. For all that they joke, it really does take a lot out of him, keeping the entirety of Hell at bay and still staying sane through it all. And knowing Belphegor, he probably made them build the blanket fort so that if there’s any sudden burst in power from him - if something goes wrong - the pillows would take the brunt of it and give Adam and Jack enough time to do something or get away.

He’s got a funny way of thinking, working through situations in a roundabout way. Jack’s still trying to catch up with his thought processes but he thinks he’s doing good on being able to read his self-appointed doppelganger.

Blessedly, nothing happens even when Belphegor’s clearly straining his concentration. Adam and Jack continue to watch him, staying on alert, just in case.

Finally, after about an hour or so of tense silence, Belphegor opens his eyes, bright but weary. He takes two seconds too long to get them open, and even longer for him to even focus on who’s in front of him.

“Bel?” Jack asks.

“They want a favor,” Belphegor says. 

Adam tenses. 

“What kind are we talking about?”

Belphegor pauses, although if it’s because of hesitation or exhaustion, Jack can’t tell. After a pause, he says, “The freedom sort.”

Adam and Jack share a quick, panicked look.

“They’re tired of being locked up in Hell,” Belphegor says. “The Shedim want their freedom.”

-

They end up telling the Winchesters what the Shedim want and having another meeting as to what to do. It’s a lot more tense than their usual conversations about the apocalypse, which is understandable since everyone’s already busy as it is - Sam’s considering letting everyone back in town since Hell’s already under control and if visitors from other towns notice that the area’s been shut off for longer than usual, heads will start turning; Dean has to answer question after question from the new members of their network over the phone; and Rowena is trying not to blow a gasket over some covens (understandably) having a hard time trusting her words while she’s trying to recruit them for the cause.

After several hours of arguing back and forth, it’s Rowena who puts her foot down on the matter. Risky or not, it’s the end of the world. If it’s their only shot, they have to take it, and then deal with the demons after. She even draws up a whole contract for the deal, making Adam and Jack carry a half-asleep Belphegor into the room so she can discuss the terms with him, and by extension, the demons.

Jack, while they’re talking, crosses off Demon Deal on his bingo card. When he pockets his card, Adam is looking at him. 

“Demon deal?” Adam says, guessing as he hadn’t seen the card itself.

“Yeah,” Jack says.

Adam winces, but nods. “Me too. I’m crossing it off later.”

“Oh,” Jack says, turning back to the table, where Belphegor is patiently waiting for the demons in his head (hah - was he a matryoshka, then, demons within a demon?) to answer. “We just have expectations for them, huh.”

“Yeah,” Adam says. “Not sure if that’s a good thing.”

It takes another hour for Rowena and Belphegor to negotiate something, and then another half hour while they finalize the details with Sam, Dean and Cas, with Rowena letting Sam give the wording several read-throughs, considering he was pre-law. Once they have something they’re satisfied with, Belphegor is woken up from yet another nap so they can relay the information to the Shedim. 

Essentially, the contract is that  they are to assist the following parties: DEAN WINCHESTER, SAMUEL WILLIAM WINCHESTER, ROWENA MACLEOD, JACK KLINE, ADAM MILLIGAN, CASTIEL and BELPHEGOR (with Cas’ and Belphegor’s names written in Enochian so the Shedim couldn’t lawyer their way out of the contract) in dealing with threat(s) to the continued existence of the known universe. In exchange, they are allowed to roam free in the Earth and are no longer bound to their ranks or obligation of service to Hell, provided they do not breach their contract. 

Everyone signs it in blood (which Belphegor is glad for because he’s not keen on kissing anyone), and Belphegor signs on behalf of the Shedim. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, boys,” Rowena says, rolling up the parchment she’d written the contract on. “Besides, they seem to just hate Hell.”

“All of them do,” Dean says. “It’s always the reason why they’re topside and possessing people.”

“Let’s take advantage of it then,” she says, and then turns to Belphegor. “Tell them to get to work.”

Belphegor gives her a thumbs up and  closes his eyes in concentration. After a moment, he opens them again, the rigid set to his shoulders sagging as he seems to give up on holding himself together. 

“Yeah, they’re on it,” he says, and then promptly passes the fuck out. 

Adam and Jack dive to catch him before he lists off the chair and hits the floor. 

“Infirmary,” Sam says, wrenching the door open before he’s even finished speaking.

None of them  really know how to care for a sick demon, but Adam and Jack carry him to the infirmary anyway, one taking his torso and the other his legs. 

Their volunteer doctors try to take his body’s vitals, even when Dean tells them it’s not necessary, and according to them, he’s showing signs of physical exhaustion. Apart from that, they’re not sure what to do, with him being a demon and all.

“I got this,” Jack says, taking a seat beside his bed. “I can heal him, a little. It’s not going to last, but I can give him some relief.”

“Someone’s probably got to check how Hell’s doing, though,” Adam says, worriedly.

Thankfully, the ghosts are still stationary outside, so that’s one thing going right. They let Belphegor stay the infirmary, asleep, while Jack spends the rest of the day trying to ease his headache and his sleep. Everyone else, meanwhile, goes back to work.

Unsurprisingly, word about the resident demon being under the weather spreads around fast, and although most of the civilians immediately wonder out loud how the fuck that even happens, some of them are kind enough to send their well-wishes. Come the afternoon, there’s already a bunch of handwritten notes from some of the younger kids, filled with misspelled GET WELL SOONs scrawled in crayon and pencil. There’s a few sodas from what Jack learns from a nurse is a vending machine some of the teenagers broke open.

At around nine in the evening, some of the kitchen volunteers stop by to bring Jack a platter of cookies while he tends to Belphegor.

“It’s the least we could do,” one of them, a girl who must be around 17 or 18,  says, a little anxiously.

“Thanks,” Jack says.

“Any preferences? In terms of snacks, I mean,” another says. A boy, taller than his companion.

“Uh, I haven’t had nougat in a while. Would be nice to have a bar,” Jack says. “And I do owe him sparkling water from a bet we had.”

“Oh,” the boy says. “He really is a demon, huh.”

Jack laughs.

“I’ll get that nougat,” the first one says, ducking out the room. She leaves the door slightly ajar from her anxious hurrying, obviously a little shy around strangers, even if they’ve saved her life. After a few seconds, Jack sees someone peeking in. 

Ah. Of course they’d have curious people trying to see how a demon even looks like sick. 

“What’s wrong with him?” the boy still with him asks. 

“He can hear all of Hell,” Jack says. “And feel it. It’s basically like having a lot of minds shoved into your own head, or at least that’s how I think it feels like.”

“Oh,” the boy says. “Why?”

“Side effect from when he took control of Hell,” Jack says.

“So it’s true, then,” the boy says. “That’s why all the ghosts outside are just - “ He waves a hand. “Like that.”

“Yeah.”

On the bed, Belphegor is breathing evenly, expression peaceful as Jack has a hand to one of his temples, steadily providing him with relief in his sleep.

“Is he gonna be alright?”

Jack pauses. “I don’t know, this has never happened before.”

There’s a small scuffle by the door as the first kitchen volunteer returns. Jack and the boy turn to it, watching her trying to get past a group of kids who have now pushed the door halfway open so they can listen in on the conversation.

“What are you all doing here? You should be in bed!” she says, voice quiet, but stern. The kids only groan in response, one telling her so should she, since her shift is over, but they don’t leave. The girl snorts, pushing past the group, and tosses a bar of chocolate at Jack with a, “Here.”

Jack catches it with his free hand.

For some reason, a memory pops into his head. One of him spending time with a bunch of other teenagers who’d broken into Sam and Dean’s stuff, and trying to befriend them by showing off. 

He blinks it away once he remembers how that had ended. 

“Thanks,” he says. 

She sets a can of sparkling water by Belphegor’s bedside. “And for the demon.”

“That shit tastes like tv static,” the boy says. 

“That’s why it’s not a drink for humans, genius,” she says, moving back to her place beside her friend. “Probably tastes just like cola to - uh...what was his name again?”

“Belphegor,” Jack says.

“Shit,” the girl mutters under her breath. “I keep - he looks really human. Sometimes my brain doesn’t connect that with demon.” 

“Doesn’t it make sense, though? They’d blend in better with us looking human,” her friend says.

“Yeah, but he’s…” She pauses. “Have you seen him in the cafeteria?”

“A little shit?” Jack offers.

The girl laughs. “Ordinary. If you took any teenager in here and lined them up side by side with him, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

Jack glances down at his friend. He does act a lot more human than expected, and not just because he’s a weaker demon. 

“Don’t tell him I said this, because he likes to think he’s not transparent at times,” Jack says. “But I think he likes being human-ordinary.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “He came up here because he hates hell.”

“That can happen?” the boy asks.

“It happens a lot, apparently,” Jack says.

“Huh,” the boy says. “Funny that.”

“Hey - “

They all turn to the door again as a little voice pipes up, although its owner is immediately elbowed and shushed by several of his friends. At seeing Jack turn though, all of them stop, looking at him wide-eyed, with something akin to awe.

“Hey,” the kid who’d spoken tries again. “If he’s a demon, how come he looks like you?”

“Is it true you’re half angel?” someone else asks. “S’what my momma told me.”

“I...am,” Jack says. He mentally sends a thank you to the kid’s mom for explaining his genetics like that. It certainly sounds a little softer than Spawn of Satan. “And it’s a long story,” he says, motioning to Belphegor. 

“Can you tell us?’ the first kid asks.

“We got all night,” the second one says, “We don’t really do much here anyway, we can just sleep all day.”

Jack considers it. He remembers that group of teenagers back then, guilt and shame and horror washing over him for a moment. 

But - 

But there’s no harm in telling a few stories, right? As long as he’s careful. 

“Okay,” he says, motioning for them to come in. He smiles when all their little eyes light up, and they all start to pile in. “But we’ll need to be quiet.”