(no subject)
Dean'd lost count of how many years he spent in that place, only measuring the countless days by cutting or being cut. That was all that really mattered down there, after all. But dean... he'd always dreamed of the day he'd get out. always. At first it was a dream of escape, but then things changed after he felt the pain of his time on the rack and his years of loathing and self-hate transferred onto someone else with a few slices of a straightrazor the cut through flesh and bone like a knife through butter. and then. then it became a dream of going topside, sharing his new-found gift with the world. It would be trade off - limited reality for the feel of real flesh and real blood under his hands. He'd bring the hunters trouble like they'd never known. And so he cut, he was cut, and above all, he waited. Then, hell fell into chaos the day they came. He heard the buzz, the panicked shouts, and above all the orders on both sides not to let him get lost to the other side. He didnt care who they were, or what they were, even if he probably should. all he cared about was the fact that they caused enough disarray for him to claw his way out in the opening they'd made. Topside was... disconcerting. The limited reality not holding his form, and the sudden weight and bodilessness of being up here was... odd. okay, he needed a body. And upon looking around at where they'd opened the door, where he assumed they were looking to take him... and realised what was under his not-feet. himself, oddly enough. And yet... he wasn't really concerned enough to worry about it as much as he should. He was just excited to finally, finally be topside. he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck before focussing himself and appearing in a town close by. he smelt a soul that while hed never smelt it before, he'd recognise it anywhere. sam. He left him a calling card - A gutted young lady with the ipod dock inside that he'd douchedup the impala with. She was a classic. and the thing looked much better on the inside of a young lady than a strong classic woman. His game began with Sam, letting him chase him across states, and always leaving something behind in his latest victim that would let Sam know exactly who he was dealing with. he wanted to keep Sams interest and keep him close for the big reveal. Wanted Sam to be sure so he didnt make the first thing he did being to send him straight back to hell. He also made sure to use a hiding hexbag so as not to make the game too easy on Sam's side of things. He also felt power from Sam. power that made his hair want to raise on the back of his neck. But finally he tired of cat and extremely destructive mouse. Three weeks later, he decided it was time. He sent a young demon fresher topside than him (basically: expendable) to Sam's latest motel room to deliver the message that his brother will see him now. He didn't expect the young demon to survive that encounter at all, and nor did he care. after all, being his master's favourites had probably.... spoiled him in some ways. In the way that a spoiled child expects the world to owe them something, so did Dean. He knew it, too. but the world did owe him something. And he would be paying that debt in blood. And sam... he shouldnt miss him, but he does. so he was going to get his brother on board, whether Sam liked it or not. (also helps he knew sam wasnt strong enough to pull him, and especially not from this shell. He waited for Sam in an abandoned warehouse at the edge of town, marked by not only the demon's words... but the young woman on the floor outside. Not that he'd done that. ....not really, at least. As much fun as it had been with a few well-placed words to help.
Sam was exhausted. Driven. He'd put the pieces together. Knew who was stalking him. Who was always one step ahead. He'd had to change old habits, learn new ones just to stay alive. Armed, powered with the blood of the demon messenger, Sam walked slowly into the warehouse. He was going to save Dean our send him back where he couldn't hurt people. He had to.
The lights flick on as soon as Sam comes in, Dean sat on the railings of the metal walkways that make up the second floor. It would be an unlikely thing he would fall without being pushed anyway, and even if he was, such a little fall wouldnt kill him. So what does he care? "Sammy!" He greets him cheerfully, even clapping his hands together a little. "Long time no see, little brother."
"Dean." His jaw is tight. he was past the guilt. At least that's what he kept telling himself when he found another body. "This ends tonight. No more. No more killings."
Mr. McManlyPenis: "That's what you think." He jumps down, landing lightly as if he'd just jumped from a small ledge rather than a metal walkway a storey up. "I crawled out of there, and it was just that much of a pain in the ass that I don't think I'm gonna quit after a week or three's fun." He moves a few steps closer. "But I did invite you here with a proposition to make."
He can feel the power spindled in his head, the fire in his blood. "I don't make deals. Come with me, Dean. Please. This isn't you."
Dean tuts at sam. "Don't lie to me~ word on the grapevine was you tried. No-one would deal was the problem. besides, this isn't that kind of deal." He pauses, before offering. "run with me, sammy. Kind of like the old days." But better. So much better.
"I tried to get you out, Dean. I did." He tenses. "Run with you. You mean kill people. No. You know me better than that."
There's a sound, somewhere between a bitter laugh and a growl. "Thought I did. Then again. The Sammy I knew wouldn't have done exactly the opposite of what I asked him as my dying wish." there's a shrug. "but this isn't tit for tat. and this isnt as much of a choice as I'm making it sound. It's simply the easier way or the hard way."
"I had to, Dean. I had to get you back or kill Lilith." His shoulders set. "No. Whatever you want, no."
"Who are you lying to, Sam? Me or yourself? You're doing it because you like it. So don't go geing frigging self-righteous on my ass about a couple of bodies here and there." but then the harshness drops, and he sighs. "I want you, sammy. Despite it all, I miss you, kiddo. Which is weird, considering I shouldnt really give a damn. But I guess blood is thicker than fire and brimstone, huh?"
“I kill demons, Dean. I can't help you kill people." That line was getting blurry, more every day. "I miss you, Dean. But.. I have to kill her. Lilith."
Game on. "And how much easier will that be with a demon by your side? And I don't mean a low-rate, two-bit whore, either." he half-snarls. Hatred of ruby... has gone to times ten of what it was, as has his hate of... pretty much anything. But, well, that's what you get in hell. and he really didn't like her in the first place.
Damn. He was right. he needed help. Insider help. It was also a good way to keep an eye on him. "No more random killing. You can't."
An eyebrow curves, mouth lifts into something between a smirk and a sneer. "and you think you can tell me what the hell to do why? That's what we like to call 'overconfidence'."
"That's the difference between me staying and me doing everything in my power to stop you." There were minions he could still pull apart before things got too ugly. He hoped.
"And I've already told you, you don't have a choice. Well, beyond being by my side, and... well, I'm sure you can guess the other option. I want you. plus you got yourself all buzzed up." It's probably sounding like he's already made up his mind. Which, he has really. Sam's power, he can use it. his and Sam's power feeding off each other? They'd be a force unstoppable. The weird thing of sharing of sharing a body with Sam? not so weird like this. after all, he's already riding his own dead body; how messed up is that?
"No. The answer is no. You can't take me like this, Dean. If you try it we'll both go down." He'd been so lonely. It had been so hard on his own. Tracking his own brother across the country, slaughtering people.
...It would be so easy.
"No. Dean, this isn't happening."
His head tilts slightly, amusement on his lips, eyes blacking over. "I already told you - you don't really get a choice."
Sam's pulse spiked, calling the power and shoving it hard at him. Pushing Dean out of his body. He couldn't kill him, but he could weaken him.
He felt the tug, the power washing over him and trying to gain purchase, but not much more than that. After all, he was right. Being alistair's student (or 'pet' as some of the lower deomns liked to call it before they ate their own insides) had it's uses. He'd moved up ranks quickly once he gave in, talent becoming known and feared among the souls on the racks. Of course, he'd not been there long enough to get a new colour of eyes - apart from the crossroads demons, the eyes were more a sign of age than rank for the simple reason the younger ones never tended to reach the high ranks for an upgrade because they didn't live long enough - but if he'd stayed, he would have been well on his way, in all honesty. And while he wasn't high, he was high enough that he would have given Meg more than a run for her money. "dude, quit it. You're just going to give yourself a headache, and that'll be embarassing for both of us."
Sam's hand slipped out of his pocket, throwing an open flask across his brother's - no, no the demon's - face. Holy water. His voice rose in the exorcism chant, grabbing at him again with his power. He can do this. Get him out.
The water hit him with a burning sizzle and a snarl. before Sam can finish the chant to send him back to hell, he jumps ship, letting his former body hit the floor, and fighting against the power of Sam and the chant to shove his way down Sam's throat. At least it'll shut the hell up with the chanting.
Nononono. The chant cuts off with a choke as Sam reels backwards, choking on thick, oily smoke. He flails, fighting wildly against the invasion, but he can't gain enough purchase to keep Dean from invading him. He collapsed, hand at his throat, trying to breathe.
He fights for it. and he fights for it, refusing to get kicked out. the power... hell, it made things difficult to get a purchase on him, that's for sure. as Sam panics against the invasion, it lashes against him. But what he is and where it comes from is much the same, and he discovered the trick was to... basically take a hit. Brace himself so he wasn't pushed hard enough to get pushed out. but not so hard that the power just recoiled and came for another hit. just enough not-fighting made it kind of act like a shock absorber, taking the brunt of the impact and absorbing the shock waves from it. It's how he would imagine eating a more powerful soul in hell would feel like, when it's done the half-merging thing. up in Sam's head, he's kind of the epitome of smugness when he appears to be winning. you had two major faults: one, pissing me off, and two, pissing me off without a devil's trap in place. rookie mistake, dude.
Sam's thoughts are pure grief as he continues to struggle. "And you always underestimated me." A bone-handled knife drawn from beneath his shirt. Ruby's knife. "Don't, Dean. Don't make me kill you." Again. Don't make me kill you again.
Nope. not happening. He focuses his efforts onto Sam's hand holding the knife. trying to loosen the fingers, open the hand, drop the knife. and if he manages that, he'll send a small leash of power to knock it way across the room.
Sam pours all of his will into hanging on to that knife. But when it comes down to it, as the blade turns towards his chest, he can't do it. Can't kill Dean any more than he could kill his father when he was possessed by Azazel. Because he's weak. Never as strong as they were.
He just chuckles, letting it rumble through Sam's head. That's what I thought. come on, Sam. weve got so much to do, so much to see. so much fun to have. You'll see.
The knife drops back into its sheath. At least he's not alone. They can kill Lilith. Stop her. Together. "I'm sorry."
That sentence puzzles him, so much so that sam's head actually tilts a little and an eyebrow raises slightly. what the hell for?
Sam retreats into himself, upset and dazed from the fight. "For dying. For not being who you needed."
He takes these few moments to adjust to the new body, getting used to gangly limbs and more of himself limb-wise than he knows what to do with. "No wonder you always end up on your ass..." he mutters out loud, but quietly as if the extra person in his head might not hear. Firstly, I decide who I need. and you've pretty much always been on that list. secondly, if you're about to go into one of those 'I'm sorry you went to hell' funks; can it. couldnt see it at the time, but it's one of the best things to happen to me.
"I end up on my ass because I'm trying to keep you from getting killed," he mutters. Sam disagrees. This isn't the best thing to happen to Dean. But he's alive. He's back. They're together. That's what matters, right?
yeah, yeah. Whatever. he answers rather blasely. In some ways it was, in ways Sam will only begin to understand with cold metal in curled fingers, making ever such pretty patterns. Lets go for a ride and see what you can really do, shall we~?
Sam was exhausted. Driven. He'd put the pieces together. Knew who was stalking him. Who was always one step ahead. He'd had to change old habits, learn new ones just to stay alive. Armed, powered with the blood of the demon messenger, Sam walked slowly into the warehouse. He was going to save Dean our send him back where he couldn't hurt people. He had to.
The lights flick on as soon as Sam comes in, Dean sat on the railings of the metal walkways that make up the second floor. It would be an unlikely thing he would fall without being pushed anyway, and even if he was, such a little fall wouldnt kill him. So what does he care? "Sammy!" He greets him cheerfully, even clapping his hands together a little. "Long time no see, little brother."
"Dean." His jaw is tight. he was past the guilt. At least that's what he kept telling himself when he found another body. "This ends tonight. No more. No more killings."
Mr. McManlyPenis: "That's what you think." He jumps down, landing lightly as if he'd just jumped from a small ledge rather than a metal walkway a storey up. "I crawled out of there, and it was just that much of a pain in the ass that I don't think I'm gonna quit after a week or three's fun." He moves a few steps closer. "But I did invite you here with a proposition to make."
He can feel the power spindled in his head, the fire in his blood. "I don't make deals. Come with me, Dean. Please. This isn't you."
Dean tuts at sam. "Don't lie to me~ word on the grapevine was you tried. No-one would deal was the problem. besides, this isn't that kind of deal." He pauses, before offering. "run with me, sammy. Kind of like the old days." But better. So much better.
"I tried to get you out, Dean. I did." He tenses. "Run with you. You mean kill people. No. You know me better than that."
There's a sound, somewhere between a bitter laugh and a growl. "Thought I did. Then again. The Sammy I knew wouldn't have done exactly the opposite of what I asked him as my dying wish." there's a shrug. "but this isn't tit for tat. and this isnt as much of a choice as I'm making it sound. It's simply the easier way or the hard way."
"I had to, Dean. I had to get you back or kill Lilith." His shoulders set. "No. Whatever you want, no."
"Who are you lying to, Sam? Me or yourself? You're doing it because you like it. So don't go geing frigging self-righteous on my ass about a couple of bodies here and there." but then the harshness drops, and he sighs. "I want you, sammy. Despite it all, I miss you, kiddo. Which is weird, considering I shouldnt really give a damn. But I guess blood is thicker than fire and brimstone, huh?"
“I kill demons, Dean. I can't help you kill people." That line was getting blurry, more every day. "I miss you, Dean. But.. I have to kill her. Lilith."
Game on. "And how much easier will that be with a demon by your side? And I don't mean a low-rate, two-bit whore, either." he half-snarls. Hatred of ruby... has gone to times ten of what it was, as has his hate of... pretty much anything. But, well, that's what you get in hell. and he really didn't like her in the first place.
Damn. He was right. he needed help. Insider help. It was also a good way to keep an eye on him. "No more random killing. You can't."
An eyebrow curves, mouth lifts into something between a smirk and a sneer. "and you think you can tell me what the hell to do why? That's what we like to call 'overconfidence'."
"That's the difference between me staying and me doing everything in my power to stop you." There were minions he could still pull apart before things got too ugly. He hoped.
"And I've already told you, you don't have a choice. Well, beyond being by my side, and... well, I'm sure you can guess the other option. I want you. plus you got yourself all buzzed up." It's probably sounding like he's already made up his mind. Which, he has really. Sam's power, he can use it. his and Sam's power feeding off each other? They'd be a force unstoppable. The weird thing of sharing of sharing a body with Sam? not so weird like this. after all, he's already riding his own dead body; how messed up is that?
"No. The answer is no. You can't take me like this, Dean. If you try it we'll both go down." He'd been so lonely. It had been so hard on his own. Tracking his own brother across the country, slaughtering people.
...It would be so easy.
"No. Dean, this isn't happening."
His head tilts slightly, amusement on his lips, eyes blacking over. "I already told you - you don't really get a choice."
Sam's pulse spiked, calling the power and shoving it hard at him. Pushing Dean out of his body. He couldn't kill him, but he could weaken him.
He felt the tug, the power washing over him and trying to gain purchase, but not much more than that. After all, he was right. Being alistair's student (or 'pet' as some of the lower deomns liked to call it before they ate their own insides) had it's uses. He'd moved up ranks quickly once he gave in, talent becoming known and feared among the souls on the racks. Of course, he'd not been there long enough to get a new colour of eyes - apart from the crossroads demons, the eyes were more a sign of age than rank for the simple reason the younger ones never tended to reach the high ranks for an upgrade because they didn't live long enough - but if he'd stayed, he would have been well on his way, in all honesty. And while he wasn't high, he was high enough that he would have given Meg more than a run for her money. "dude, quit it. You're just going to give yourself a headache, and that'll be embarassing for both of us."
Sam's hand slipped out of his pocket, throwing an open flask across his brother's - no, no the demon's - face. Holy water. His voice rose in the exorcism chant, grabbing at him again with his power. He can do this. Get him out.
The water hit him with a burning sizzle and a snarl. before Sam can finish the chant to send him back to hell, he jumps ship, letting his former body hit the floor, and fighting against the power of Sam and the chant to shove his way down Sam's throat. At least it'll shut the hell up with the chanting.
Nononono. The chant cuts off with a choke as Sam reels backwards, choking on thick, oily smoke. He flails, fighting wildly against the invasion, but he can't gain enough purchase to keep Dean from invading him. He collapsed, hand at his throat, trying to breathe.
He fights for it. and he fights for it, refusing to get kicked out. the power... hell, it made things difficult to get a purchase on him, that's for sure. as Sam panics against the invasion, it lashes against him. But what he is and where it comes from is much the same, and he discovered the trick was to... basically take a hit. Brace himself so he wasn't pushed hard enough to get pushed out. but not so hard that the power just recoiled and came for another hit. just enough not-fighting made it kind of act like a shock absorber, taking the brunt of the impact and absorbing the shock waves from it. It's how he would imagine eating a more powerful soul in hell would feel like, when it's done the half-merging thing. up in Sam's head, he's kind of the epitome of smugness when he appears to be winning. you had two major faults: one, pissing me off, and two, pissing me off without a devil's trap in place. rookie mistake, dude.
Sam's thoughts are pure grief as he continues to struggle. "And you always underestimated me." A bone-handled knife drawn from beneath his shirt. Ruby's knife. "Don't, Dean. Don't make me kill you." Again. Don't make me kill you again.
Nope. not happening. He focuses his efforts onto Sam's hand holding the knife. trying to loosen the fingers, open the hand, drop the knife. and if he manages that, he'll send a small leash of power to knock it way across the room.
Sam pours all of his will into hanging on to that knife. But when it comes down to it, as the blade turns towards his chest, he can't do it. Can't kill Dean any more than he could kill his father when he was possessed by Azazel. Because he's weak. Never as strong as they were.
He just chuckles, letting it rumble through Sam's head. That's what I thought. come on, Sam. weve got so much to do, so much to see. so much fun to have. You'll see.
The knife drops back into its sheath. At least he's not alone. They can kill Lilith. Stop her. Together. "I'm sorry."
That sentence puzzles him, so much so that sam's head actually tilts a little and an eyebrow raises slightly. what the hell for?
Sam retreats into himself, upset and dazed from the fight. "For dying. For not being who you needed."
He takes these few moments to adjust to the new body, getting used to gangly limbs and more of himself limb-wise than he knows what to do with. "No wonder you always end up on your ass..." he mutters out loud, but quietly as if the extra person in his head might not hear. Firstly, I decide who I need. and you've pretty much always been on that list. secondly, if you're about to go into one of those 'I'm sorry you went to hell' funks; can it. couldnt see it at the time, but it's one of the best things to happen to me.
"I end up on my ass because I'm trying to keep you from getting killed," he mutters. Sam disagrees. This isn't the best thing to happen to Dean. But he's alive. He's back. They're together. That's what matters, right?
yeah, yeah. Whatever. he answers rather blasely. In some ways it was, in ways Sam will only begin to understand with cold metal in curled fingers, making ever such pretty patterns. Lets go for a ride and see what you can really do, shall we~?