Dean walks around to the passenger seat of Sokka,s jeep and starts flicking through the stacks of books.
Some of them are crap. They get thrown to the ground. Some of them have useful information, and get tossed into the back seat for keeps.
And while he's going through them, he talks.
"Demons. There's demons at most crossroads. They'll make deals.
"It's not pretty. I -- Sam was --
"Ten years is th'usual deal. Not always. I got one. M'dad, he didn't get ... didn't get anythin'.
"Here." A book with an illustration on the front of a vast spectral hound, red-eyed and slavering and filthy, death in its eyes. "That's what'll come for you. Not fun. Trust me, not fun."
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Some of them are crap. They get thrown to the ground. Some of them have useful information, and get tossed into the back seat for keeps.
And while he's going through them, he talks.
"Demons. There's demons at most crossroads. They'll make deals.
"It's not pretty. I -- Sam was --
"Ten years is th'usual deal. Not always. I got one. M'dad, he didn't get ... didn't get anythin'.
"Here." A book with an illustration on the front of a vast spectral hound, red-eyed and slavering and filthy, death in its eyes. "That's what'll come for you. Not fun. Trust me, not fun."