gayeld (gayeld) wrote,
gayeld
gayeld

Vanishing Acts

*scratching head* I seem to have lost my Beta (one is working on her zines and the other, appropriately enough for this fic, seems to have vanished,) so this is unBetaed and all error reports will be gladly welcomed. Especially if they're of the punctuation variety, because I really suck at that.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not Maeson’s. Eric’s. Bummer.

 

Spoilers: Let’s just say Season One and go with that.

 

Author’s notes: For my niece, Maeson, who turned to me near the end of Salvation and said “Where’d the demon go?” Good question.  Here’s an answer.

 

 

Vanishing Acts

by Gayle

 

 

Azazael stood in the shadows, reveling in the panic and chaos across the street, watching as ‘little’ Sammy Winchester, his chosen favorite, struggled against his brother’s hold.

 

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” he whispered gleefully. “So anxious to meet with me. Don’t worry, my boy, it won’t be too much longer. I’ve got plans for you, Sammy boy. Big, big plans.”

 

He stood a few moments longer, watching as Dean Winchester clung to his brother, dragging young Samuel to the waiting car. Then in space of blink he was gone, leaving nothing but an unnatural cold behind.

 

* * *

 

The night was clear, no hint of smoke in the air when Azazael stepped out of the shadows again. The small cottage that stood in front of him now, dark and quiet, as its inhabitants slept peacefully.

 

Another blink in time and he was standing in a nursery, looking down at the small boy happily chewing his hand. Not quite time for this one, still three weeks to go until his half a year was up, but this one was special.

 

If the current generation failed him, as so many had in the past, this was the one he held out the most hope for in the future. After all, his family had served in one way or another for generations.

 

“Good night, young prince,” he cooed, brushing a hand across the boy’s forehead. “Let’s hope that when your time comes Hell already reigns on Earth.”

 

* * *

 

“Father, we have him!”

 

“But not the Colt.” He’s gratified to see the girl flinch away from him.

 

“No, Father. We searched him and the truck, he didn’t bring it—” A gasp of pain cuts off her words.

 

“Apparently, you didn’t provide him with sufficient incentive to bring the real Colt with him did you?”

 

The boy’s snicker of amusement terminates as he joins his sister, pinned next to her like a common bug.

 

“Do you find it amusing that young Samuel brought the Colt to greet me tonight?”

 

“N-no, Father, of course not.” Tom strains against his invisible bonds. “We only wish to serve you.”

 

“Yes, of course you do,” Azazael sneered, a wave of his hand later and they’re both rising unsteadily from the floor. “It’s lucky for both of you that I’m more than equal to the young Winchester boys.”

 

At this, John finally moves, his noise of protest muffled by the gag in his mouth as he struggles against the ropes binding him.

 

“Don’t worry, John, both your boys are in one piece. For now.” He bends in front of John, gently working the gag out of his mouth. “After all, I have big plans for our young Sammy. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to him. And Dean, well, I need dear, sentimental, Dean to bring me the Colt, now don’t I?”

 

“Dean will never give you the Colt!” John spit out at him. “Never!”

 

“John, John, John, don’t know your boys very well, do you?” Azazael pats the side of the face, stopping with a hard slap that knocks John’s head against the back of the chair. “Dean loves his daddy. He’d give me just about anything to get you back. The Colt, his life, his soul, even that pretty car of his. In fact, if I had to lay a bet, I’d say the only thing Dean wouldn’t trade for you would be Sammy.”

 

He circles the chair, crouching down on the other side. “It must gall you, just a little bit, the way Dean puts Sammy before everything, even you. I know, I know, you trained him to put little Sammy first. Always first, even before himself. He’d die for Sammy. But you know that. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it John?” Azazael laughs as John turns away, as if not looking at him can take the truth from his words. “But still, after Sammy ran away, left the family behind for the good life at Stanford, Dean still puts him first. Before himself. Before dear, old, Daddy.”

 

“Shut up! You don’t know anything about my boys!”

 

“Oh John, I understand your children better than you do. Sammy, so full of righteous anger, just like his daddy. So ready to throw his life away for vengeance. So ready to drag his loved ones down with him.” Azazael stands, steps in front of John and leans in close. “And Dean, so like Mary—”

 

“Don’t you say her name!”

 

“Just like his dead mother. Ready to make any deal, any bargain, no matter how bad, to save his family. What are you going to do, John, when he burns on the ceiling, just like his mother?”

 

John’s screams of anger are lost, intermingling with pained cries of his current meat suit as he drops it on the floor.

 

Azazael whirls through the air in front of John, waits until his eyes widen in understanding and terror, before forcing himself down the man’s throat and taking control of his body.

 

It’s going to be a very good day.

 

Tags: fan fic, supernatural
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