"The star is an Expandable Enochian Devil's Trap. Just throw it at a demon and it would automatically capture it and bind it completely, not even the strongest of demons would get out. Barring, of course, the Princes and the Knights and the Devil, you know, cosmic grade assholes."
Irwin set the artifact shaped to the Star Of David and made of pure silver onto the table. He gazed around the table and saw that most, if not all, were looking at him like some bizarre sea creature.
"Where did you get all these?" Dean tapped the glass on the potion bottle, swirling the red liquid inside.
"My basement and all you need to know is that no human lives are used to produce this–innocent or otherwise." Irwin said his memorized disclaimer.
"Good to know. So, it's like a damn Pokeball?" Asked Bobby, grabbing the Devil's Trap and scrutinizing it to understand its mechanism. "There are micro-expressions in the grooves, runes of some sort. What?"
Bobby realized that everyone was looking at him weirdly. "Pokeball?" Dean asked incredulously.
"I don't just drink in my free time, jackass." The old man grumbled.
A disheveled Sam entered the room, a smile appearing on his face once he caught sight of the gold cure near Irwin.
"She's ready."
Irwin nodded, leaving the set of potions and artifacts on the table and heading towards Madison's bathroom. While Irwin was regaling the new guys about his organization and the benefits held within, he had tasked Sam with persuading Madison to take the werewolf cure.
The cure would be effective, of course, but the pain during the operation would be doubled given the fact that it would basically purge every cell in her body, ridding itself of any dormant or active supernatural genes. Just explaining to all four hunters was hard enough–the combination of science and magic was incredibly hard to pinpoint–much less a civilian who had known the world of the supernatural for less than a week.
Once Irwin entered the room and Sam locked the door, the former gazed at the distraught and haggard face of Madison Monroe. He had instructed her to wear camisole and shorts to prevent whatever liquid from sticking to her clothes and returning to whence it came.
She sat on the tub, clammy hands holding the ceramic edges tight and taut.
Her doe-like eyes rested upon Irwin, hope slowly being replaced by dread and nihilism. Not mere days ago, she had allowed Sam to kill her and prevent any more deaths yet, here she was, about to undergo a procedure that, if succeeded, would make her the very first werewolf to be a human once more.
"Don't worry, Madison. I won't take out your kidneys," Irwin joked, bringing a small smile on an otherwise terrified expression.
Sam groaned softly, kneeling down to look her in the eyes. "Don't worry. The cure will work."
"I-is there a chance that it will kill me?" She asked, scrutinizing the syringe quickly as it filled up with the golden liquid.
Irwin shrugged. "Frankly, you're the first person to take this."
While the description of the five hundred credit serum had written that it would cure the user of their lycanthropy, Irwin knew that everything inside of the store was made by someone in history. Sure, this cure was an upgraded version of the ones created by the British Men of Letters and have been purged of anything that would make it defective, he didn't know if that also removed any side-effects of the cure–be it temporary or permanent and even if said side effects were immediate or would appear down the line.
Sam stretched a rubber glove and tied it an inch above her elbow, flicking her joints to let the veins show themselves.
"Alright. I'm gonna inject you and you're gonna feel some pain. Like an ant bite." Irwin smiled. "But then you're gonna get better and, unfortunately, it's gonna hurt some more. Much bigger than an ant bite, more like an elephant stomp."
"Richard."
"What? I'm just setting up expectations." Irwin's response to Sam's one-word admonishment brought a smile to Madison's face.
She nodded in recognition of the danger that lay ahead, closing her eyes before uttering: "Inject me."
Irwin did so, pushing in the liquid into her veins and letting its golden glow illuminate her forearm. Dozens of lines traced across the length of her arm and reached her shoulders in the next second.
Before the glowing veins extended to her torso, Madison's whole body contorted and convulsed in pain. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as her very flesh rebelled against the cure, the werewolf curse intent on demolishing whatever it was that consisted of the golden liquid.
"Where's the Sire's blood?" Sam scurried to the sink and brought back a jar of blood.
Irwin took out another syringe, filling it up with werewolf blood, and injected it once more into her veins. Much like the cure, the blood trailed along her veins, only this time, her screams rang louder and harsher.
Sam rushed in and tried to hug her, to give her a bit of a reprieve, but Irwin stopped him in his tracks. The cure was clearly working, as evident by the flesh and muscles fusing at the combination of the golden cure and werewolf blood.
Her convulsing continued on for a few more minutes as both liquid traveled from the torso to her head and legs, covering her in swollen, pus–filled blisters and her sweat. Mostly her sweat, though, so Irwin turned on her shower head and let the cold water hit her body, immediately getting a violent reaction.
"Hey, you think Mcdonalds is open this early?" Irwin asked, knowing that it'll likely take a few more minutes before Madison vomits or sweats out the virus like Annalize did.
"Huh? What the fuck are you saying, man? She's dying." Sam was visibly irritated and expectantly angry, greatly resisting the urge to punch Irwin in the face.
"Not like we can do anything about it. Give it a few and call me if she vomits out her kidney or lungs." Irwin was operating on a great deal of incertitude regarding the cure and, instead of worrying about it, he thought it best to let the professionals do the worrying.
He clapped Sam on the back and left the room, throwing her ungodly screams at the back of his mind as he returned to the room where Dean was currently playing with the Angel Sword like an errant knight.
He clapped his hands. "So, who's up for a burger run?"
●●●●●
Irwin eventually returned to the bathroom where Madison now lay upon Sam's lap. Blood, feces, and vomit painted the gray tiles of the room. It reminded Irwin of a Jackson Pollock painting, albeit one that provided an extra olfactory sensation than the last one.
Pallid, gaunt, and looking like she has a heart-condition and had just come out of a particularly good haunted house, Madison rested her head on Sam's shoulder as her chest heaved ever so slowly. Her sweat glistened under the ceiling light, glowing with a certain off-beat yellow hue which Irwin deduced to be the remnants of the golden cure.
"So… how's she?" Sam asked, combing her wet hair back.
"You tell me." Irwin grabbed the silver knife he had borrowed from Dean and, with a moment's hesitation, pressed the blade into her skin.
He could see Sam tighten his hold on her body and, for a moment, so did Irwin, but to both of their surprise, Madison nor her skin had a violent reaction to the metal. Delight spread across Sam's eyes as he breathed out in relief, all the tension suddenly removed from his body as he slumped back into the wall.
"Whoo!" Irwin hollered in joy, knowing that Sam Winchester now owed him a big favor. "Goddamn!"
"What's happening?" Sam's butch brother, Dean, came in soon after, protective instincts honed in on his brother's shouts before his worried expression morphed to surprise and begrudging respect. "Son of a bitch. You did it."
"I did." To Irwin's surprise, Dean clapped him on the shoulder and joined in on the hollering.
It didn't surprise Irwin that Dean was happy that Madison had been cured and would, therefore, live. After all, underneath the crappy personality, hard-ass exterior, and daddy issues, the hunter was a gumball full of optimism that was humbled by the series of tragedy and abuse that formed his childhood.
"Shut it, ya idjits!" Bobby cleaved his way in, past the two, and kneeled next to Madison to check her vitals. "She's good. No reaction to silver. Alright, boy, wash her once, dry her, and let her rest in her bedroom."
"Alright, give them room." Ellen grabbed Irwin and Dean by the shoulder to free the room of their presence with Bobby exiting soon after. A swell of happiness was in the man's face before tucking in his emotional support trucker hat and looking at Irwin with a renewed light.
Bobby cleared his throat, "So, this Protectorate of yours… How's it work exactly?"